Dragon Soul
Page 79
“Oh, he does not look anything like that,” Aisling scolded her demon, then gave me a brilliant smile. “Rowan looks dashing, absolutely dashing, and I know he’ll be just fine as soon as the headache meds kick in. Jim, leave the food alone! You’ve already eaten both Bee’s and Aoife’s ‘don’t faint while you walk down the aisle’ snackies, and you don’t need Sophea’s as well. Honest to Pete, I can’t take you anywhere…”
They drifted out the door just as May leaned her head in. “How are you holding up? Oh, your hair looks nice. I like the little leaves twined through it.”
“They’re not leaves, actually,” I said, wincing when the stylist, with a mutter to herself, adjusted one of the metal decorations that curled through my hair. “They’re tiny little dragons.”
“Very nice,” May said. “Almost makes me wish we’d done a proper wedding, not just the civil ceremony that Gabriel’s mom demanded we have. Almost.”
She grinned when I made a face at her. “This isn’t my idea of bliss, but it’s kind of nice having a group celebration with Rowan’s sisters.”
“Gotcha. Oh, you have a visitor.” She pulled back a moment, then poked her head back in. “You up for it?”
“I don’t know,” I said, slightly startled. “Who’s the visitor?”
“It’s me!” Mrs. P pushed past May, rushing to me to give me a hug. “Or should I say, it’s us. The other priestesses are in the hall, getting good seats. What a lovely idea you had to get married in a Russian palace. It’s very grand.”
“It is, but it wasn’t my idea at all. For that we can thank the head wedding planner, and by head I mean just that—Gary might not have much to him, but I’ll admit he whipped together a hell of a wedding. How are you? Where’s your Bo?”
“I’m blissfully happy, and my Bo has just run to town to fetch a tuxedo.”
I thanked the stylist when she murmured the hair was as good as it was going to get, and she toddled off to help the next bride. Carefully, so as not to wrinkle my flowered 1950s style dress with sleeveless bodice, bell-shaped skirt, and crinoline underpinnings, I turned to face Mrs. P. “I’m sure he doesn’t need a tux for the wedding. We’re not really being that formal. Aoife’s dress is more of a short dinner dress than a wedding dress. Bee’s the only one who went in for the full princess-style wedding dress and veil. From what Rowan said, not even the men are wearing tuxes. They have some sort of dragon outfit planned, although he wouldn’t tell me just what.”
“The tuxedo is for your man, actually, in case they can’t get the stain out of his tunic,” she said blithely, wandering over to fuss with the small bouquet of flowers I would be carrying.
“Stain?” I asked, aghast. “What sort of stain? Alcohol? Dirt?”
“It’s nothing, really. I gather dragonweave, that material the men’s tunics are made of, is just a bit hard to clean when it comes to blood, that’s all. The tux is really just a worst-case scenario, so don’t worry at all. I’m sure they’ll get the tunic cleaned in time. And that handsome Gabriel had already fixed the broken noses.”
I closed my eyes for a moment or two, wondering if I should throw tradition to the wind and go check on Rowan. I hadn’t seen him since the night before, when he had kissed me and taken himself off to the stag party. “I knew they shouldn’t have let those other wyverns plan it. Clearly it got out of hand.”
“I gather,” Mrs. P said, pulling one of the carnations out of my bouquet and tucking it into her chignon, “that there were some words about the past, and the relative merits of a larger sept versus one of the newer, smaller ones, and things got a bit heated. But I’m sure it’s all better now, and you can hardly see Rowan’s black eyes. And that Constantine fellow’s sling is actually made of the same material as his tunic, so you barely notice it.” She paused in thought. “Although Kostya’s missing front tooth is a bit noticeable. Still, if you don’t look right at his mouth, it’s fine.”
“Oh goddess,” I said, dropping my forehead to my hands. “What an auspicious start.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, moving over to pat me on the shoulder. “It’ll all be lovely. The priestesses are thrilled to death to be here—that was very nice of you to invite us all.”
“Well, I’m very glad you’re here. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you at all since you and your Bo left Duat. You look radiant.”
“I am,” she said simply, and helped herself to the bottle of champagne that sat untouched before me.
“Would you mind answering a question?” I asked, relieved that I finally had a chance to learn the answer to a question that no one seemed to be able to answer.
“Not if it has anything to do with my time as hoochie-coo dancer. I’m saving all that for my memoirs, which Bo is going to help me write. He’s literary, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know, but I don’t see any reason why a guard to the lord of the Underworld shouldn’t be literary. My question goes back to that last day of the cruise.”
“Mmm, I do love champagne,” she said, sipping a second glass. “What about that day?”
“You said something about you were told to swap your Ka with Bael’s when you took the ring. Rowan and I tried to figure out what you meant by that, but we could never find a satisfactory answer.”
She gave a delicate shrug. “It means just what it says—I was told to swap my Ka.”
“Yes, but by whom? And how did you know where the Ka would be? I mean, most of us take it with us, or so I gather.”
“You are not allowing for the fact that Bael is a demon lord—he would not keep anything of value or power upon him lest his enemies gain hold of it and use it against him. His Ka, as was the ring, was kept in a strongbox.”
“Right,” I said slowly, giving her a long, hard look. “And how did you know that?”
“I was told, as I said.” She helped herself to a petit four, a silver pen that was intended to be used to sign the register, and my lipstick, tucking the last two items away into her small clutch. “Mmm, lemon.”
“Who told you?” I repeated, ignoring the petty theft.
They drifted out the door just as May leaned her head in. “How are you holding up? Oh, your hair looks nice. I like the little leaves twined through it.”
“They’re not leaves, actually,” I said, wincing when the stylist, with a mutter to herself, adjusted one of the metal decorations that curled through my hair. “They’re tiny little dragons.”
“Very nice,” May said. “Almost makes me wish we’d done a proper wedding, not just the civil ceremony that Gabriel’s mom demanded we have. Almost.”
She grinned when I made a face at her. “This isn’t my idea of bliss, but it’s kind of nice having a group celebration with Rowan’s sisters.”
“Gotcha. Oh, you have a visitor.” She pulled back a moment, then poked her head back in. “You up for it?”
“I don’t know,” I said, slightly startled. “Who’s the visitor?”
“It’s me!” Mrs. P pushed past May, rushing to me to give me a hug. “Or should I say, it’s us. The other priestesses are in the hall, getting good seats. What a lovely idea you had to get married in a Russian palace. It’s very grand.”
“It is, but it wasn’t my idea at all. For that we can thank the head wedding planner, and by head I mean just that—Gary might not have much to him, but I’ll admit he whipped together a hell of a wedding. How are you? Where’s your Bo?”
“I’m blissfully happy, and my Bo has just run to town to fetch a tuxedo.”
I thanked the stylist when she murmured the hair was as good as it was going to get, and she toddled off to help the next bride. Carefully, so as not to wrinkle my flowered 1950s style dress with sleeveless bodice, bell-shaped skirt, and crinoline underpinnings, I turned to face Mrs. P. “I’m sure he doesn’t need a tux for the wedding. We’re not really being that formal. Aoife’s dress is more of a short dinner dress than a wedding dress. Bee’s the only one who went in for the full princess-style wedding dress and veil. From what Rowan said, not even the men are wearing tuxes. They have some sort of dragon outfit planned, although he wouldn’t tell me just what.”
“The tuxedo is for your man, actually, in case they can’t get the stain out of his tunic,” she said blithely, wandering over to fuss with the small bouquet of flowers I would be carrying.
“Stain?” I asked, aghast. “What sort of stain? Alcohol? Dirt?”
“It’s nothing, really. I gather dragonweave, that material the men’s tunics are made of, is just a bit hard to clean when it comes to blood, that’s all. The tux is really just a worst-case scenario, so don’t worry at all. I’m sure they’ll get the tunic cleaned in time. And that handsome Gabriel had already fixed the broken noses.”
I closed my eyes for a moment or two, wondering if I should throw tradition to the wind and go check on Rowan. I hadn’t seen him since the night before, when he had kissed me and taken himself off to the stag party. “I knew they shouldn’t have let those other wyverns plan it. Clearly it got out of hand.”
“I gather,” Mrs. P said, pulling one of the carnations out of my bouquet and tucking it into her chignon, “that there were some words about the past, and the relative merits of a larger sept versus one of the newer, smaller ones, and things got a bit heated. But I’m sure it’s all better now, and you can hardly see Rowan’s black eyes. And that Constantine fellow’s sling is actually made of the same material as his tunic, so you barely notice it.” She paused in thought. “Although Kostya’s missing front tooth is a bit noticeable. Still, if you don’t look right at his mouth, it’s fine.”
“Oh goddess,” I said, dropping my forehead to my hands. “What an auspicious start.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, moving over to pat me on the shoulder. “It’ll all be lovely. The priestesses are thrilled to death to be here—that was very nice of you to invite us all.”
“Well, I’m very glad you’re here. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you at all since you and your Bo left Duat. You look radiant.”
“I am,” she said simply, and helped herself to the bottle of champagne that sat untouched before me.
“Would you mind answering a question?” I asked, relieved that I finally had a chance to learn the answer to a question that no one seemed to be able to answer.
“Not if it has anything to do with my time as hoochie-coo dancer. I’m saving all that for my memoirs, which Bo is going to help me write. He’s literary, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know, but I don’t see any reason why a guard to the lord of the Underworld shouldn’t be literary. My question goes back to that last day of the cruise.”
“Mmm, I do love champagne,” she said, sipping a second glass. “What about that day?”
“You said something about you were told to swap your Ka with Bael’s when you took the ring. Rowan and I tried to figure out what you meant by that, but we could never find a satisfactory answer.”
She gave a delicate shrug. “It means just what it says—I was told to swap my Ka.”
“Yes, but by whom? And how did you know where the Ka would be? I mean, most of us take it with us, or so I gather.”
“You are not allowing for the fact that Bael is a demon lord—he would not keep anything of value or power upon him lest his enemies gain hold of it and use it against him. His Ka, as was the ring, was kept in a strongbox.”
“Right,” I said slowly, giving her a long, hard look. “And how did you know that?”
“I was told, as I said.” She helped herself to a petit four, a silver pen that was intended to be used to sign the register, and my lipstick, tucking the last two items away into her small clutch. “Mmm, lemon.”
“Who told you?” I repeated, ignoring the petty theft.
