by Adams, Cat
palace to the courthouse where the chief
justice would be waiting. The route for
the procession—by the bridal party, on
foot, nice and slow. My head hurt just
thinking about all the ways that could go
wrong.
Afterward, there would be a private
luau on the grounds of the royal
compound, for which security would be
a piece of cake by comparison. I’d
already RSVP’d “no” because of the
whole
sunshine
thing,
but
Baker
informed me they’d changed the plans
slightly to accommodate me by placing
the wedding party under a canopy and
keeping the entertainment and the
cooking pit in the open. Baker and her
superiors had decided not to discuss the
change of plans in public, giving us an
element of surprise.
The second ceremony, taking place
two days later in Rusland, would be a
traditional Orthodox Christian wedding
ceremony. This would be a much more
formal and elaborate affair, much like
the royal wedding of the British prince a
couple of years prior. The Siren Secret
Service was cooperating with their
Ruslandic counterparts on the details.
I glanced up at the wall clock. “I
know there’s more, and I’ll need to go
over it with you later, but we’re almost
out of time. What’s on tap for today?”
Baker scowled, but couldn’t really
argue. “Adriana flew the queen and the
other two bridesmaids over from
Serenity last night. They are guests at the
Serenial Embassy. They’re scheduled to
have breakfast until 8:30 with the
ambassador and his wife. At 8:33,
they’ll get in the limo and come here.
They should arrive between 8:59 and
9:04 depending on traffic.” She glanced
down, checking her notes.
“At approximately 9:58, you will
arrive at the shop of designer Amelie
Annette Bertrand. The shop has been
closed to everyone except the princess
and our people have made a thorough
security sweep of the shop and the area
around it. We will have guards posted at
every
exit
and
patrolling
the
neighborhood. At 11:45, the car will
pick you up at the shop and take the
group to Simone’s, where a private
room has been reserved for lunch. The
facilities have already been secured. At
1:15, the car will take you and the others
to designer Angel Herrera’s showroom.
Security measures will be identical to
those at the Bertrand shop.”
I could tell from her narrative that
security for the day was going to be
tight. Good. I still didn’t know exactly
where I fit in the scheme of things, how
well the team would react to having me
included. But there was only one way to
find out.
“Do you mind if I have Dawna make
me a copy of the itinerary while I go arm
up?”
“Not necessary.” She reached into the
laptop case and handed me a sheet of
paper and a thumb drive. “I was afraid
we wouldn’t have time to cover
everything, so I took the liberty of
putting it all on a flash drive for you.”
“Thanks. Hopefully we’ll get a chance
to talk later today.”
She shook her head. “Not in person, at
least not today. I have an errand to run,
then I am flying back to Serenity.”
Well, crap. That sucked. While I
could probably talk to any of the secret
service agents, I liked and trusted Baker.
“Is there anybody specific I should talk
to?”
Ever prepared, she reached into the
case and pulled out a business card.
“Saren Albright will be the agent in
charge on this detail. Here’s her card.
I’ll let her know that you may be
consulting with her later.”
“Thank you.”
“Just doing my job.”
10
It took me all of fifteen minutes to
decide that I didn’t like the other
bridesmaids. Olga and Natasha were
Ruslandic royalty. I was betting their
addition to the wedding party was
political rather than emotional, because
neither showed any kind of sincere
affection for the bride-to-be.
Natasha was the daughter of a
prominent conservative clergyman with
major political power. She had been
briefly married to King Dahlmar’s son
before his death. Olga was the daughter
of Dahlmar’s younger brother. Both
women were lovely, with dark hair and
smooth fair skin, although Olga had a sly
way about her that reminded me of the
petty little bitches who’d tormented me
back in high school.
She and Natasha spoke mostly to each
other, and in Ruslandic, knowing nobody
else could understand, which was just
plain rude. When I decided to tell them
so, mind to mind, I hit a solid barrier
and guessed that both of them were
wearing anti-siren charms. That was
very interesting, since those types of
charms are difficult to make and even
more difficult to obtain. It was pretty
much an insult for them to wear them
under these circumstances. On the other
hand, it should have made them immune
to the anti-siren sentiments that most
women feel, yet both radiated a low
level of hostility. Either the charms
weren’t working or there was some sort
of problem. Maybe I should—
Don’t.
Adriana’s birdlike voice in my head
was calm and patient.
They’re being obnoxious.
She didn’t bother trying to deny it. If
my mother can ignore it, so can you.
I looked over at Queen Lopaka. Her
expression was serene. She turned to
meet my gaze and smiled. She spoke out
loud, to my surprise. “We are most
fortunate that both of Adriana’s possible
choices for a wedding dress had already
been delivered. It would be much harder
to find a suitable bridal gown than
attendant dresses on short notice. The
previous dresses were pale gold, quite
lovely, but all wrong for your
complexion, Celia. I think perhaps we
should consider jewel tones this time.
What do you think, Adriana?”
“I agree that gold won’t work.
Perhaps Amelie will have some
suggestions.”
“But I liked the gold,” Olga whined.
I kept a smile pasted on my face and
gritted my teeth. If Adriana could put up
with having those two in her wedding
party and the queen
could be pleasant to
them, then I could and would shut up and
smile, even if it was through gritted
teeth.
I was so relieved when the limo
stopped and I could at least put a little
more physical distance between me and
the other bridesmaids.
Since Natasha and Olga were busy
ignoring us in favor of chatting with each
other, I didn’t feel guilty speaking mind-
to-mind to Adriana. I’m surprised there
aren’t any sirens in the wedding party.
I
framed
the
thought
carefully,
concentrating hard on Adriana.
Rusland is a land-locked country.
Most sirens would not be comfortable
there. My best friend was willing to try,
but she stepped aside so that you could
join the party. It’s probably for the
best, as it would have been very hard
on her.
Okay, that made sense. But it sucked.
A girl wants her best buddies at her side
for her wedding, not a group of near
strangers.
My friends will be with me for a
party prior to the wedding, and at the
reception following the ceremonies on
Serenity. Although I will admit I find
Olga and Natasha tiresome, I would
put up with much more to please
Dahlmar and make a good first
impression on his people.
Fair enough.
* * *
Dawna has taught me a lot about
shopping. One: clothes don’t have to be
expensive to look expensive. And two:
expensive clothes can look just as tacky
as cheap ones. I recognized Dawna’s
lessons at the first shop we visited.
Amelie
Annette
Bertrand
was
probably the hottest women’s clothing
designer around. She could ask whatever
price she wanted and people would pay
it. She made sure that she was in the
store herself to show Queen Lopaka and
Adriana her wares. She was beautiful
and charming. Olga was particularly
impressed.
I wasn’t.
Maybe I just had plebian tastes. But it
seemed really tacky to me for a
bridesmaid in a royal wedding to wear a
dress that would make a Vegas showgirl
blush. Bertrand’s dresses were all too
something for me: too low cut, too short,
too glittery, too tight, too loud. Whether
Adriana and her mother heard my
thoughts, or simply wanted to see what
else was available, we left Amelie
standing heartbroken at the door of her
shop as we drove off to our scheduled
luncheon.
Simone’s was a very nice little Italian
restaurant that smelled of fresh baked
bread and garlic. The tablecloths and
napkins in our private room were heavy,
cream-colored linen; the silverware,
actual silver. They’d had plenty of
advance notice, so the chef had outdone
himself coming up with a special
liquified meal that I could eat.
Somehow, Olga and Natasha got seated
at opposite ends of the table and were
forced to either sit mum or interact with
the others in the party. I wound up next
to Natasha and found that, minus Olga’s
influence, Natasha was a fairly nice girl
with a wicked sense of humor. Of course
that only lasted through the dessert
course. Once we were back in the limo,
the dynamic duo returned to their old
tricks.
Sighing, I counted to ten again, and
settled in for what promised to be a very
difficult afternoon as we drove to the
next designer’s shop.
Angel Herrera had a very tiny, very
exclusive bridal salon where we were
served champagne, wedding cake, and
strawberries. The bridal consultant
absolutely refused to rush and presented
us with a selection of impressive gowns.
To my surprise, when I saw myself in
the mirror, wearing the dress they’d
chosen for me, I felt pretty good about
the way I looked. A lot of bridesmaids’
dresses are hideous—after all, you can’t
have someone upstaging the bride on her
big day. Adriana, being a siren, had
nothing to worry about on that front, and
didn’t want to punish her bridesmaids by
forcing them to wear unattractive outfits,
and Herrera and her people had taken
those instructions to heart.
My proposed maid-of-honor dress
was royal purple, a color that looks
really good on me. It was cut low
enough to make the most of my figure
and the slit up the side was high enough
to give a glimpse of the ivy tattoo I’d
gotten years ago, to honor my deceased
sister, Ivy. The dress was much more
conservative than the ones at the other
shop, but I was still a little worried
about showing all that skin. There’s a
big conservative contingent in Rusland.
What would they think of the foreign
bride’s attendants looking so downright
sexy?
Then I saw Adriana’s reflection,
smiling at me, and figured if she was
happy, that was all that mattered. That,
and the fact that I looked really good in
that dress.
I figured we were good to go. Right
up until the bridal consultant told me,
“I’ve
found
the
perfect
beauty
enhancement spell for you.”
“Excuse me?” I tried to make it sound
as if I wasn’t insulted, and failed
miserably.
“ Wel l , obviously, for any wedding
you want to look your best, and for a
royal wedding, televised around the
world, you’ll definitely need to hide
those scars and your fangs.” She gave a
delicate little shudder as she said the
word.
Lopaka’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
Without another word, she rose, which
sent everyone else scrambling to their
feet. You do not sit when the queen is
standing. “We are finished here. Thank
you for your time.”
Holy crap.
My cousin gave a brief nod of
agreement and the other bridesmaids
hustled into the dressing rooms to strip
as if they’d been given a telepathic
message. They probably had. The queen,
after all, was the best telepath in the
world. Even if Natasha and Olga had
basic anti-siren charms, Lopaka’s mental
voice could easily overcome them. And
it was highly unlikely that Adriana’s
bridesmaids had been given charms
made from Lopaka’s hair—I was betting
that the queen was very, very careful
about who got near her hairbrush.
&n
bsp; The consultant flushed, and her face
set in grim lines, but I could see the
panic in her eyes. Not only was she
about to see what was likely a six-figure
sale, once shoes and accessories were
figured in, walk out the door, the design
house’s reputation would be ruined—
everyone would know that her faux pas
cost her a royal wedding. Worse, we
still wouldn’t have dresses. I could only
imagine how hard people had worked to
set up the appointments with the two
salons we’d visited that day and how
difficult it would be to make room in
Adriana’s and Lopaka’s schedules for
any additional shopping, especially
considering that the wedding was only
weeks away and the dresses needed to
be purchased, fitted, and finished as
soon as possible. All because of a little
insult to me. I looked at my aunt and
concentrated. I appreciate the thought,
but …
Lopaka didn’t even look at me. Her
eyes were only on the consultant and
flashed with anger. But nothing. Celia, I
appreciate your humility, but you
underestimate your position. Right
now, you are the most famous siren on
the planet. Your heroics have been
splashed across the media worldwide
and have given us much prestige. You
have set right some of our worst sins
and the public consider us honorable at
last. To allow this insult to stand would
be to allow our entire nation and
culture to be insulted. And that I will
not tolerate.
That took me aback. I hadn’t thought
of it that way.
Seriously, I’m not all that humble.
Yeah, I know that technically I’m a siren
princess. My grandfather had been
Lopaka’s beloved brother, but we hadn’t
known that until after the vampire bit me
and my siren powers started wreaking
havoc. I’d grown up poor, with a pretty
dysfunctional family. And right at this
moment, my mom was in jail, my
grandmother wasn’t talking to me, and
my sister was (still) dead—and I hadn’t
seen her ghost in a while, either. So I
just don’t think of myself as a princess.
As I told one of my friends when I found
out, “That’s just so … Disney. ”
Now, the queen had made up her
mind, and while I was family, I was also
a subject. I ducked into the nearest
dressing room, got out of that lovely
purple dress, and pulled on my street
clothes, half listening as the clerk tried
to talk her way out of the pit she’d dug
for herself.