"—and I still think the entire tradition is ridiculous," Eris was saying, her tone caught somewhere between exasperation and grudging acceptance. "Hunting magical beasts to prove we're compatible? What's next, fighting each other to the death to see who gets to plan the wedding menu?"
Soren opened his mouth to respond, likely with something that would escalate her irritation into actual violence, when a voice cut through the air like a knife through silk.
"Your Majesty!"
The voice was bright, musical, carefully pitched to carry just the right amount of breathless excitement and demure respect. It was also unmistakably familiar, and Soren felt his spine stiffen even before he turned.
