The next morning began with disaster.
Not magical disaster.
Not political disaster.
Not ancient-abyss-awakening-the-end-of-the-world disaster.
Wedding disaster.
Which, according to the wedding planners, was somehow worse.
Aliena discovered this when she walked into the eastern planning hall and found three attendants crying.
One seamstress looked moments away from fainting.
Two decorators were arguing over table arrangements.
And the head wedding planner had the expression of a woman who had stared directly into madness.
Aliena stopped in the doorway.
"...Should I come back later?"
The room immediately erupted.
"My Lady!"
"Thank goodness!"
"We need a decision!"
"The flowers!"
"The ribbons!"
"The seating arrangements!"
"The centerpieces!"
"The candles!"
Aliena immediately regretted entering.
Somewhere in the distance—
she could practically hear Sebastian laughing at her suffering.
Which was unfair.
Because he was not here.
