Elaris and her kin marched toward the altar, their movements fluid and synchronized.
They stopped before the Priestess and us, bowing their heads in a display of profound elven respect.
Before she straightened, Elaris caught my eye. She flashed a quick, playful wink that vanished as soon as she looked away, resuming her regal mask.
I looked at the line of elves behind her—all fifty-one of them, including her carrying my children—and felt my throat tighten.
I gulped hard. Of all the moments to make a grand entrance, why did they have to pick the climax of my wedding?
"Apologies for the intrusion, humans!" Elaris addressed the crowd, her voice carrying across the yard. "I am Elaris, the Elven Patriarch, and as you can see, I have brought my sister's with me." She swept a hand toward the girls. "A total of 52 elves, myself included, are carrying Asher Reynolds' seed."
The air seemed to leave the yard all at once with a collective of Gasps.
