15. Chapter 15
Julia
And here we go again.
I stand slightly behind as Seraphina and Silverine argue over the color of the candles that are supposed to grace the honor table.
In my peripheral vision, I notice Courtney making notes on her laptop, occasionally glancing up at the bickering dragons with wide, attentive eyes before returning to whatever task has her brow furrowed in concentration.
Despite what Adrian told me about her past, I can’t bring myself to think of her as a suspect. She’s been working with me since the start. Why would she do any of that just to steal from me now? It doesn’t make sense.
The tone increases between Seraphina and her grandmother, bringing my attention back to the two dragons. The argument seems trivial, but I'm not surprised. Weddings are stressful and tensions often come to a high a few days before, leading to pointless flare-ups like this one.
The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow, after all, and the thief still has to accept our offer.
"White candles are much more elegant." Silverine Draak's voice remains calm as she gestures toward the two crystal candelabras arranged on the antique mahogany table between us. “And Draaks’ weddings always have white candles.”
I remain silent in the elegant Rose Salon of Windfall Manor, caught between two dragon women locked in a power struggle disguised as an argument over candle colors.
The morning sunlight streams through tall windows, illuminating dust motes that dance in the air and catching on Silverine's pale-purple scales.
And my thoughts keep circling back to Adrian. To what we shared. To the way he made me feel, like I was the one woman in the world.
I want to feel like that again. If I'm honest, I want to feel like that every day for the rest of my life.
Ugh. Focus.
"I like the blue candles because they complement the linens and the porcelain." Seraphina's tail taps against the marble floor in a steady, fast rhythm. Her normally perfect posture is rigid with tension beneath her designer blazer and her wings are held high and tight against her back .
I've seen enough nervous brides in my career. I know when one is about to snap and Seraphina Draak is as brittle as kindling. She’s about to burst into flames—literally.
I take a deep breath, inhaling the mingled scents of fresh roses in crystal vases and the distinct ashen smell that permeates all spaces inhabited by dragons. Two days until the wedding, and we're arguing about candle colors. This is fine. Everything is completely under control.
"Perhaps we could consider a compromise," I suggest, keeping my voice professional and my smile neutral. "We could alternate white and blue candles among the tables or use white candles with blue ribbons tied around them. That would incorporate nicely with the wedding color scheme."
Silverine dismisses my suggestions with a cool glance and a slight wave of her clawed hand. "That would look tacky at best, but thank you for your… creative suggestion."
The way she says "creative" makes it sound like I suggested replacing the wedding cake with a pile of dirt. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from sighing out loud.
“I don’t even know why we’re going through the motions here, to be honest.” Silverine inhales a long, deep breath, her nostrils flaring. “The tiara is still missing and there will be no wedding without it.”
“Grandmother!” Seraphina turn to Silverine, her eyes flashing bright and two thin columns of faint smoke rising from her nostrils. “I am marrying Percy Ashbane, with or without the tiara.”
“Not if you want to be matriarch of this clan, you’re not,” Silverine retorts, her back stiff. “No Draak matriarch has been married without for over nine generations. It’s tradition. ”
Before the situation can escalate further, Silverine's phone chimes with an incoming call. She checks the screen, her violet eyes narrowing slightly.
"I must take this. The clan accountant requires my input." With regal movements, she glides from the room, her heels clicking against the marble floor, the scent of expensive perfume lingering in her wake.
As soon as the door closes, Seraphina lets out a sharp, smoky sigh.
A thin wisp of actual smoke escapes her nostrils, dissipating quickly in the air.
Her shoulders drop slightly, and for a moment, the perfect bride facade slips.
She gives me an unexpected conspiratorial look that transforms her face from intimidating to almost… friendly.
"My grandmother believes if we change one tradition, the entire Draak lineage will crumble to dust," Seraphina says, moving toward the window where the light catches her pearlescent scales.
She pours herself a glass of water from a crystal pitcher, her movements more relaxed now that we're alone.
"You'd think after four centuries of existence, we'd be made of sterner stuff. "
The casual comment nearly makes me drop the candle sample I'm holding. In all our interactions, I've never heard Seraphina speak this way. With humor and do I detect a hint of rebellion?
“You know Adrian is doing everything he can to recover the tiara.”
Seraphina swallows, then nods. “I know. But I also know we may never get it back.”
“Will you really cancel your wedding? You love Percy and he loves you.”
“You don’t understand. It’s not just the tiara, it’s the image associated with it.” Seraphina smiles, but it’s a sad smile. “I can’t marry without it and I can’t become matriarch either. But whatever happens, Percy and I will never give up. We’ll always stay together.”
But you won’t be married . I don’t say it out loud, because Seraphina doesn’t need to hear it. She knows. She dreamed of this wedding for so long, she deserves it. She deserves to be happy.
A sudden pinch of anger at the thief rises in my chest. All that pain and suffering, just for money.
"So, I heard you attended a pack gathering with Sheriff Wolfsbane." Seraphina changes the subject with surprising casualness. Her tone is curious rather than judgmental, another unexpected shift.
I set the candle down carefully, buying time as I formulate a response. The news of my appearance at the pack house has spread even faster than I anticipated.
Small towns and gossip go hand in hand.
"News travels fast in Saltford Bay," I observe, straightening a stack of menu cards. "Yes, I did. It was… intimidating but manageable."
"What was it like? The pack house?" Seraphina asks, genuine interest lighting her violet eyes.
"Grand. Rustic, but impressive. All wooden beams and wrought iron, with this massive stone fireplace that must be at least three centuries old.
" I find myself describing the experience, the pack members with their watchful eyes, the curious stares, the territorial displays.
"I’m not sure they knew what to expect when they saw a human walking in with their future alpha. "
Instead of the expected scoff or dismissal, Seraphina nods with understanding .
"I know what it's like to enter a world that wasn't made for you." Her voice carries a hint of weariness that I haven't heard before. “I had other dreams before all this, you know?”
She makes a gesture that encompasses the entire room with one elegant claw.
"But my role as future matriarch is more important than any of them. It doesn’t matter now, not really."
"What did you want to do?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"I almost opened an art gallery with an old college friend of mine," she says, a smile playing at her lips. "Not just any gallery. One that featured works by nonhuman artists who struggle to break into human-dominated art markets."
As she speaks, her gestures become more animated, her eyes brightening.
"There are so many talented artists whose work never gets seen because the traditional galleries can't, or won't, accommodate their needs.
Did you know that selkie painters use canvases that need special humidity controls?
Or that troll sculptors work with living stone that needs particular lighting to be properly appreciated?
The world needs to see their art, and we wanted to help them spread it, far and wide. "
I listen with growing surprise as passion transforms Seraphina's usually controlled demeanor. This is the most genuine I've ever seen her.
"What happened to that dream?" I ask softly.
"Duty," she says, her formal mask slipping back into place like a curtain falling. "Duty happened. In dragon families, duty comes first. Always has, always will. "
"I admire that dedication to your family, even when it means setting aside your own dreams," I find myself admitting. Surprisingly, I mean it. I'm seeing a completely new side to the Bridezilla I first encountered.
"Building something from nothing, without a powerful name to open doors for you. That takes real strength." Seraphina’s smile turns dreamy, then she shakes her head. “I admire your courage, Julia. I wish I had some more of my own, sometimes.”
The moment hangs between us, delicate and unexpected. My phone buzzes with an email notification, breaking the spell. I check it quickly, then look up with excitement.
Thank goodness for small mercies.
"Good news," I announce. "The flower supplier just confirmed they can get us some Vanda coerulea after all!"
Seraphina's face lights up. "This is amazing news!"
I quickly scan the details. "It’s not enough for all the centerpieces as originally planned, but it’ll be sufficient for your bouquet and the hair braid you wanted for the ceremony."
Now all we need is for the thief to accept our bait.
Silverine chooses this moment to return, the door swinging open before her as if by command. She immediately catches the tail end of our conversation.
"Insufficient quantities of the Vanda Coerulea ?" Her disapproval crystallizes the air around us. "This is completely unacceptable. You must keep looking for suppliers."
Seraphina, still standing near the window where sunlight catches her scales in iridescent patterns, straightens her shoulders .
"It's enough, Grandmother." Her voice is quiet but firm. "The orchids in my bouquet and hair will be beautiful, and as long as I wear some on my person, the tradition will stand. We can use the lavender orchids for the tables, as Julia suggested. It’s my decision, in the end, and I say it’s enough. "
I observe this quiet rebellion with fascination, noticing how Silverine's eyes widen slightly at being overruled, however gently. A loaded silence fills the room as grandmother and granddaughter regard each other across the elegant space.
"To the next item for your approval today," I say, breaking the awkward standoff. "Courtney, do you have the name cards Silverine chose for the special honor table?"
Courtney, who's been typing furiously on her laptop, looks up with a startled expression. She glances around the table, patting the stack of folders beside her, then checks her tote bag with increasing panic.
"I… um…" She rifles through her papers, color rising in her cheeks. "The gold-edged place cards for the honor table should be right here…"
She dumps the contents of her folder onto the table, sorting through everything with trembling fingers. Finding nothing, she looks up at me with wide, horrified eyes.
"I think I left them in my room!" she says, looking utterly flustered. "I remember setting them aside to bring the sample linens and… oh no. I'm so sorry!"
Silverine's eyes narrow with disapproval, her mouth tightening into a thin line that could slice through steel. I quickly step in before she can unleash what would undoubtedly be a blistering critique. My poor assistant is terrified of our dragon clients enough as it is .
"Go grab them, please. Quickly, and then set up the table for Silverine and Seraphina to approve," I tell Courtney. "This is the last thing we need for the rehearsal dinner."
She nods and hurries out, the door swinging closed behind her with a soft click.
"Your assistant seems unusually scattered today," Silverine observes coolly. "This is the third mishap this morning."
"She's been working very hard," I defend automatically, though I've noticed the same thing. Courtney has been making small mistakes all day, which isn't like her at all. The theft of the tiara must be getting to her as it is to all of us.
Yet another reason why I don’t believe she could be the thief. The thief doesn’t get flustered by dragon matriarchs and doesn’t make mistakes.
“Let me show you the menus, and then we can approve the cards.”
Seraphina nods, then bends to retrieve a box on the chair next to her. She pauses, her hand emerging with a small ornate box instead. She opens it, revealing neatly stacked gold-edged place cards, the very ones Courtney just left to retrieve.
"Were these the ones?" Seraphina asks, her eyebrow arched questioningly as she holds up the box.
I nod slowly, a frown forming. "Yes, exactly those."
"Typical," Silverine mutters. "Perhaps you should consider hiring an assistant who can remember what's directly in front of her."
She moves to examine the cards, effectively dismissing the topic. To my surprise, a small smile forms on Silverine's lips as she studies my compromise solution .
"This is… acceptable," she concedes. "Just bold enough to highlight my aunt’s status in the Council without being gaudy."
Coming from Silverine, this is practically a standing ovation. I return her smile with a professional one of my own.
Before I can respond, the manor's fire alarm system erupts in ear-splitting shrieks. The sudden noise is deafening, the harsh, pulsing sound reverberating off the ornate walls of the Rose Salon. Silverine startles, her wings partially emerging in instinctive response.
"What in the name of the Ancient Fires?" Silverine exclaims over the noise.