Ben’s finger tapped the side of his coffee mug as he discretely eyed Celestra from the opposite side of the campsite. The divination witch was in the process of wiping flecks of scrambled egg off her husband’s face with her thumb, making Galev laugh.

  “She’s pretty.”

  Spidena’s voice sounded beside Ben as she plunked herself down beside him on the log by their morning campfire.

  “Mm,” Ben retorted before taking a sip of his coffee that had already turned cold.

  He spared a solemn glance at Spidena, though the sight of her with her cropped hair gave him pause before speaking.

  What remained of her mass of loose black curls hung just above the nape of her neck, while the front strands had been left long enough to reach just past her chin, but that morning she had managed to tie the front back into a small ponytail. A few loose strands had already sprung free, and framed her face…

  This new look somehow managed to make her seem less witch-y, and more like a cute village girl.

  Ben cleared his throat and dropped his eyes to the ground when he registered Spidena staring at him expectantly.

  “Paulav agreed to leave the duck in the caravan during the wedding, but he did say if he met any other minions, or magic animals, at the reception he would introduce them,” Spidena announced in a business-like tone while grasping her ankles and tucking them in closer to the log.

  “Mm,” Ben repeated as he stared blindly at his coffee.

  “This friend of yours in the military, was she in the Hounds too?”

  Ben’s teeth clenched then unclenched. “Not exactly.”

  Spidena must have heard his reluctance to say more on the topic, and so she ventured onto a new vein of conversation. “Do you have anything nice to wear for the wedding?”

  Blinking rapidly, Ben finally looked up at Spidena, bewildered. “What I’m wearing is fine.”

  Spidena’s mouth pursed and her brows dropped as she leveled him with a flat look. “I know you have never attended a wedding, but even you should know that you are expected to bathe and dress up.”

  Ben grimaced. “Maybe I don’t need to attend the wedding. I’ll just hang back with Conquestorov.”

  Spidena gave an irritable huff. “Stop being a sour child. I’m sure Paualv has some nice shirts you could belt. Hells, even Galev’s regular clothes would be an improvement. You could ask him to borrow them.”

  “Galev and I also are different sizes.”

  “True. He is taller… And I think his arms are thicker too…”

  Rolling his eyes, Ben stood. “I’m guessing you’d want me to learn ‘proper table manners’ before the wedding, too?”

  “I have realistic expectations. I’ll be happy getting you in a fresh set of clothes,” Spidena snorted.

  “And why should I care about making you happy?” The words could’ve been brittle, or sharp, or at the very least dripping with delicious sarcasm. But Ben was silently shocked to hear that they instead sounded… suggestive. As though they were inviting an answer he was in no way prepared to hear.

  Spidena’s mouth opened. Then closed. He watched her swallow. Then she lifted her wide nose in the air as though to say something sassy back, but the breath that filled her lungs wound up being fuel to launch her back to her feet.

  She almost looked like she was about to stalk off, but she instead lowered her finger in Ben’s face.

  “I don’t play games like this one. Don’t flirt with me unless you mean it. Got it?”

  Ben’s mind went blank.

  What was there even to say to that? “Right.”

  He hadn’t meant to speak so quickly. He had actually wanted to think about it a bit more…

  He couldn’t tell the emotion that flickered behind Spidena’s eyes, but whatever it was she straightened and gave a nod of approval. “Good. Now, go talk to Galev about some clothes. There is a communal pump at this campsite that everyone else is using to freshen up. And if you need a good reason to do it, just think how you might find your tall, capable blond woman there.”

  Ben straightened in alarm.

  She’d heard him when he had told Paulav and Conquestorov that was his preferred type when they had been traveling in the caravan.

  A wretched feeling balled itself up in his gut, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything as Spidena turned on her heel and stalked away.

  Sighing, he dropped his head, only there was a prickling on the left side of his face that made him look up to see Celestra watching him pointedly.

  Ben’s gaze darted away.

  Celestra hadn’t told them what she’d seen when she’d looked into the future for them.

  Once Filif had shown up and distracted them the previous night the matter had been promptly forgotten. But come the morning, whenever Ben caught her staring at him, it made nagging dread sprout in the back of his mind.

  Filif trundled by then, nibbling on what appeared to be a patty of moss.

  “I don’t even know why Celestra is scared of you. She isn’t a nymph…” he voiced aloud, distractedly.

  Filif turned a mystifying smile at Ben, giggled darkly, then continued on his way.

  Ben stared after him, unsure how to feel on the reaction.

  Sighing, he rubbed his face, then glanced over at the black pump on the other end of the camp clearing. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to try and look decent for the wedding.

  He reminded himself that maybe he could find a nice girl to get out all of his pent up feelings so that he and Spidena could stop having weird tension thrumming between them…

  Rising up to his feet, Ben’s mind gradually turned over to the fact that after the wedding, Spidena and himself would be traveling on their own again, and it would be two weeks or less until they reached Kintel and were finally free of each other. So even if for some silly reason he couldn’t shake the dumb feelings that had emerged, then at the very least they would be finished with each other soon. Then he could start preparing and focusing on saving his friend with whatever item she had set aside for him in Kintel.

  ***

  Ben tugged at the buttoned collar at his throat uncomfortably.

  As it turned out, Galev’s white shirt fit Ben quite well—even if it was a bit long—as Ben’s shoulders happened to be as wide as the artificer’s. Which also meant that Ben could also wear Galev’s spare outfit.

  The dark brown pants that Galev had provided were rolled at the bottoms, and Ben still had his black boots on, which, according to Celestra, clashed horribly. Particularly as the dress jacket he wore was a burnt orange. But trodding along in shoes that were a size too big for him was Ben’s limit to his efforts to clean up his appearance, and so he had simply thanked Galev for the clothing loan, and waited at the wide clearing they had reached by the luncheon hour.

  In the clearing where the wedding was to start, were rows of wooden planks resting atop cut tree stumps, and guests wearing all sorts of eccentric and colorful clothes started to gather. An aisle had been created in the middle of these benches, and at the end stood a rustic stone altar. Two stripped logs leaned against both ends of the altar with a swatch of white cloth draped across, and garlands of delicate white forget-me-nots were strung up artfully to hang. But Ben didn’t really care much about studying the decor.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Not when the guests were that much more interesting.

  There were at least four nymphs, and two suspiciously short men with long white bears they tucked into leather belts, with bulbous pink noses.

  Ben noted the silvery shine around those beings, and the lack of shine around about a third of the attendees.

  Truthfully, being gathered in a place where seebs, witches, dodders, and magic beings had gathered to peacefully take part in a celebration felt… Surreal.

  Ben had only seen groups of seebs cower from witches. He’d seen witches avoid magic beings. And as a dodder in the army… Well… He’d be regarded with scorn and fear. Sometimes with pity.

  But here… Everyone looked happy. No one cringed away from each other. They shook hands, and cajoled together without a care in the world.

  How was this able to happen? How had so many friendships formed and lasted through the decades of suffering and imposed conflicts when the monarchy had pitted them all against each other?

  Galev gently nudged Ben’s ribs, snapping him out of his thoughts.

  “What?” he asked idly, while turning to look at the man who wore a dark blue suit and silvery cravat that matched his wife’s puffy, pleated silvery skirt while she wore a fluttery navy blue top to match her husband.

  Galev jerked his chin off to the right of the road in the direction where Paulav had gone to finish parking the caravan, and Spidena had gone to change clothes—she had waited until they had reached the venue, claiming that she didn’t want to get her one nice dress dirty.

  Ben’s eyes glanced over more guests that trickled in. A man wearing a purple velvet top hat escorted a woman in a frilly butter colored dress. An old, wrinkled man with a large hooked nose dotted with a prominent mole hobbled by, his shadowed skin making the fact that his eyes were yellow all the more alarming.

  The man’s gaze swiveled toward Ben with unnatural smoothness, making him cringe away.

  Galev then gently grasped the top of Ben’s head, and turned it in a specific direction.

  And time promptly slowed.

  Spidena was walking toward where they stood waiting. She was wearing a dress the color of a fine red wine that laced up at the front, revealing a snowy white chemise underneath. Though it had to be more of a slip than a full chemise as the sleeves were short, and the skirts voluminous. Her short black hair was glossy in the bright glow of the midday sunshine. She smiled at something Paulav said to her as they strode along, with Filif in the middle of them. Even the sprite had tucked a dazy into a button hole of his tan toned jacket.

  But if it wasn’t Spidena Ben barely noticed anything else.

  The woman practically glowed in a way that had nothing to do with magic.

  He was vaguely aware of Galev’s hand falling away from his head.

  When Spidena reached where they stood, Ben was alarmed when she spoke, as he discovered that for a brief moment in time, he hadn’t been able to hear anything happening around him.

  “Well, that’s an improvement,” Spidena announced, her dark green eyes surveying Ben’s attire with a hint of amusement.

  Paulav shared a knowing look with Galev, who twitched his eyebrows upward with a grin at the merchant.

  “Shall we find our seats?” Celestra called out from Galev’s other side, though even she had a hint of a smile on her face when she moved her sights from Ben to Paulav.

  Paulav fidgeted with the cuffs of his pine colored dress shirt that he had topped with a fine cream linen coat with gleaming brass buttons. “I think I will, um… Erm… Wait for Obbie to arrive.”

  Everyone froze as they remembered the other important event that was taking place that day.

  Ben shot a nervous look at Spidena.

  What if the haughty fey man decided not to come after all?

  Spidena turned to Paulav and smiled kindly. “If I were to guess? Knowing Obbie? He’s going to be fashionably late.”

  Paulav pinkened. “O-oh, well that is… That’s… As long as he arrives safely, and—”

  “Witch, stop talking like you could possibly fathom a being as spectacular as myself.”

  Everyone whirled around to find Obbie strutting over to them from across the road wearing a gold jacket, a fine black silk shirt, black pants, and tall black leather boots.

  Paulav audibly gulped.

  Obbie tossed his head in the air as his violet eyes swept over the group before him before resting on Spidena.

  “Witch, you could almost pass as a highly paid prostitute. Though the new haircut actually makes you look moderately less wanton. Well done. Man Chop…?” Obbie’s lips quirked upward in a mocking smile. “I don’t need to say anything other than I’m not surprised.”

  Celestra’s brows descended and her eyes narrowed at the fairy.

  Obbie’s gaze flit to hers. “You are stunning. Pity you married…” Obbie stared at Galev and fell silent.

  His eyes darted to Galev’s muscled arms, his strong jaw…

  “I take it back. You both would be deemed acceptable to visit the fey realm.”

  Galev gave a bemused look at Obbie who then at long last looked at Paulav, who straightened instinctively, and gingerly touched his short hair as though self-conscious of it.

  Ben’s hand gripped into a fist. He really didn’t want Obbie to be mean today of all days when Paulav was already brimming with nerves about seeing his ex-boyfriend…

  The fairy sighed airily, then waved his hand. “Well? Aren’t you going to tell me how magnificent I look? Or offer to escort me to my seat?”

  Everyone looked at Paulav, wondering how in the world he would respond to Obbie’s arrogance.

  The merchant beamed.

  He almost looked as though he might be tearing up—supposedly in relief that the fairy had actually shown up.

  Then he stepped over to Obbie’s side, his gaze filled with unguarded warmth that appeared to catch Obbie off guard.

  Paulav missed the fairy’s stunned reaction however, as he inclined himself slightly, then wordlessly offered his hand to the fairy. “Shall we?”

  Ben may have been imagining it, but he thought it almost looked like Obbie blushed for a second. But then the fairy wriggled his shoulders and proceeded to wrap his slim arm around Paulav’s thick forearm, and with his other hand gripped his bicep. “Might as well.”

  By this time, the wedding guests were starting to take notice of Obbie’s arrival, and whispers were starting to gather in small pockets of the attendees.

  Paulav showed no sign of hearing them as he guided his date over to the benches, leaving Celestra and Galev to smile happily at each other and follow.

  Filif skipped after them, leaving Ben and Spidena alone.

  Ben inched closer to her, his heart beating like a taught drum before the war trumpets.

  “Like a prostitute…” Spidena muttered as she glared after Obbie. “He’s such a–”

  When Spidena turned to face Ben; her mutterings died upon locking eyes with him.

  Ben cleared his throat and then offered Spidena his own hand. “Come on… We can… We should sit at the back.”

  He second guessed himself the instant he did it.

  His palm was slick with sweat.

  Spidena raised an eyebrow at his hand.

  Then, she sent his heart careening out of its cavern and into his throat when she reached up, and unbuttoned the very top of his shirt that had been bothering him, though it did little to loosen the new sensation that choked him.

  She proceeded to loop her arm around his bicep and faced the benches. “Come on. You probably don’t know this, but it’s rude to go down the aisle at the same time as the brides.”

  Ben swallowed, wishing he could make an equally flippant retort, but he found that with his heart’s recent relocation such a feat was impossible.

  And so he simply let Spidena half drag him to their seats at the back of the crowd, struggling to assemble a coherent thought.