Chapter Fifteen FURTHER PREPARATIONS Alison
Chapter Fifteen
FURTHER PREPARATIONS
Alison
Later in the week, Alison had her dress fitting at Lydiach’s shop.
She was still feeling a bit embarrassed about her first visit. Now that Rinka had been in town for a while, the wedding planning was much more under control, and she no longer felt the overwhelming sense of too many choices she’d felt during the first consultation.
“Now, Alison. If you’re unhappy with the design, there’s still enough time to make another, though it will be tight. We can change the sleeves or the lace; I can bring up the hem. Don’t be afraid to ask for what you like.”
Alison didn’t know much about what she liked, but she did know she liked the dress.
Rinka explained it to her as Lydiach placed pins in a few places, marking where to make adjustments.
“You wanted something organic, so we went with this floral lace. See how it follows the lines of the dress like it’s growing from the ground beneath your feet?
And we did sheer layers of the chiffon you liked draped into the train.
Nothing too long or showy, just enough to blend it all together. And the sleeves—”
Alison let out a sob as Lydiach placed a matching chiffon veil on her head and a delicate wool shawl on her shoulders.
“Oh, are you alright?” asked Lydiach.
“Did I go too fast?” asked Rinka. “Sorry, I got a bit excited—”
“No, no,” said Alison as Lydiach flew over a handkerchief. She lifted the veil, watching her reflection smile through her tears in the looking glass. “It’s just so beautiful. I feel beautiful. It’s exactly right.”
“Oh, good!” said Lydiach. “Those are the tears we like to see.”
Rinka nodded. “I felt that way the first time I put on one of Lydiach’s dresses. She’s a miracle worker.”
“Nonsense,” said Lydiach. “I just highlight what’s already there.”
“This will be you soon enough,” said Alison to Rinka as she changed back into her plain blue dress. It looked strange on her now, like the wedding dress had revealed who she really was, and these clothes belonged to a stranger.
“I heard about that. Congratulations!” said Lydiach on the other side of the screen. “A royal wedding. When’s the big day?”
“A long way off,” said Rinka. “There’s going to be another interview with the same magazine to announce it in a few weeks. It’ll take most of the year to plan. Idris wants to have it here in Wilderise, but we’ll see what the king says. Queen Yuling may even attend.”
Rinka had told Alison the truth about Queen Yuling’s separation from the king.
They had sent her a copy of their magazine debut and had just recently received a lovely letter of congratulations from her delivered all the way to Weldan House from Formosa.
Alison imagined it must have been hard for her to be so distant from her children, and she was glad to hear that she might come to the wedding even though that might be difficult for her, too.
“A royal wedding in Wilderise! I hope you’ll think of me, not for the wedding dress, per se, but if you needed any other gowns—”
“Lydiach, I would not have anyone else dress me. Let’s get Alison married first, then we can all come look at designs. Idris tells me that the traditional Formosan gowns are lovely and would suit my red hair, at least for one of the events… ”
Alison was glad it was Rinka and not her that would be dealing with all the pageantry of a royal wedding. Her simple village affair was more than enough.
“Don’t lose any more weight before the wedding,” said Lydiach as they were on their way out. Alison had been neglecting her diet a bit lately. She forgot to eat sometimes when she was focused on her poetry.
“Let’s pop in and see Charlotte and Mrs. Knox next door,” said Rinka. “They’ll fill you out nicely with those biscuits of theirs.”
They thanked Lydiach and headed over to the bakery. They had originally planned on getting some of the delicious chocolate biscuits with the swirly tops to go with their tea, but Charlotte had just finished making some new truffle varieties and wanted their opinion before putting them on sale.
“This one has a hazelnut in the middle. I can’t decide if I like it better with the nut for the crunch, or if I like this one where we ground them into a cream.”
“Crunch, definitely,” said Alison as Mrs. Knox poured the tea and joined them at the table.
“Charlotte, bring them out some of the heart-shaped biscuits too.”
“Coming right up.”
“Did you hear those constables are back in town?” asked Mrs. Knox.
“DCI Tirrin and DC Lord Wexenas?” asked Alison.
Mrs. Knox raised her eyebrows. “Did you meet them last year? During the ink theft debacle?”
The accidental theft had happened just down the street at Mezec’s shop when Strelka had been trying to secure inks for Weyland.
Alison herself had been a prime suspect in the crime, having only just arrived in town.
“They questioned me,” she said. The questioning had been a farce, but they had done it, nonetheless. “What’s happened now?”
“I heard it from Mr. Rainey that they’re after that thatcher from Fossholm, Mr. Craig. They say he scammed someone in Fossholm out of their coin, and he’s on the run,” said Charlotte as she brought over the heart-shaped biscuits.
“These are really pretty,” said Rinka, admiring the frosting on a biscuit a moment before stuffing the entire thing into her mouth. “Taste good too,” she said before tearing into the next one.
“Did you say Mr. Craig?” asked Alison. “He tried to rip me off in the spring when my roof was leaking. Keir had to talk him down.”
“You should tell the detectives that,” said Mrs. Knox. “They’re staying at the inn.”
“Did you hear that Mezec is bringing one of the korrigans to your wedding?” asked Charlotte.
Alison sat back, sipped her tea, and nibbled on the wonderful biscuits Mrs. Knox and Charlotte had made while she listened to all of the gossip, grateful for a day of girly chat.
Afterwards, they headed down to the forge to see Weyland. She had three purposes to her visit: to collect Keir’s ring, to drop of her updated manuscript so Weyland could finish the illustrations, and to ask him for the small favor of officiating her wedding.
Weyland was happy to give her the ring—it was just what she asked for—and thrilled to work on the manuscript again.
“This is a new one,” he said, holding up the last poem Alison had added. It was a bit of a different style from the others.
The world is never more silent
Than it is in winter.
The dizzying traffic of everyday
Slowed to almost nothing.
A flit of wings. A snap of branch.
Time stands still.
Only thoughts remain.
Dreaming of spring,
Arms outstretched,
Yearning for rebirth.
But the ice grows in the cracks,
Filling them. Holding them.
Trapped at first, but slowly finding peace.
Acceptance.
Lost in the frozen moment,
Listening.
A pair of footsteps, soft,
Are moving closer.
A light shines through glittering branches.
They drip and bend,
But do not break.
“This is my favorite of all of them,” said Weyland when he finished reading. “I hope I can capture it.”
Alison was certain that he would. But as enthusiastic as Weyland was about the poetry book, he was much more skeptical about officiating the wedding.
“Do I really seem like the right sort for that?” he asked. “You can have the anvil. I’ll even take it to the town hall for you.”
“You wouldn’t have to do much. I’m writing my vows, so you’d just need to read the standard ones for Keir…”
Alison looked into her friend’s face as he grew even more red than usual. On the one hand, he didn’t want to tell her no. But on the other hand, he really, really wanted to tell her no.
“Never mind, Weyland. You’ve done enough for us. I do think the anvil would be fun to have though.”
That meant she’d need to find Gwenla to ask her. It was mid-afternoon; maybe she’d run into her collecting Finnli from the schoolhouse on the way back.
She parted ways with Rinka, who was due in Fossholm for some sort of meeting regarding their college construction plans. But before she could find Gwenla, she ran into someone else: DC Lord Wexenas.
“Hello, detective. I hear you’re looking for Mr. Craig.”
DC Lord Wexenas looked around him as if he hadn’t noticed Alison coming despite his keen elvish senses. “Ah, I remember you. Ink theft, wasn’t it? Are you in cahoots with Craig?”
“What?” Alison regarded the young elf. He’d pulled his golden hair back into a more sensible bun, and he had a small scar on his forehead, but he otherwise seemed as much of a fool as he had been last spring.
“The ink wasn’t even stolen, remember? And no, I haven’t seen Mr. Craig since he tried to overcharge me for my roof repair. ”
“Just what someone harboring a fugitive might say—”
“Forgive my colleague here,” said DCI Tirrin. The old dwarf constable seemed even more exasperated than the last time Alison had seen him. “He’s been stuck behind a desk most of the year. What did you say about Mr. Craig overcharging?”
Alison filled the detectives in on what she knew of Mr. Craig, ignoring DC Lord Wexenas’s obvious skepticism and her own questions about what he’d done to earn so much desk work.
“As a local, do you have any ideas about where he’d hide?” asked DCI Tirrin.
A local. No one had called Alison that before. And it wasn’t even coming from the delusional Lord Wexenas.
“There aren’t many good hiding places in winter. The stables near the inn, maybe, or the dwarven mine up the mountain, if he could convince them to have him.”
“Thank you,” said DCI Tirrin. “By the way, are you the one marrying Dr. Ainsley?”
“You mean this is the future marchioness?” asked DC Lord Wexenas, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.
“I am,” said Alison. She drew herself up into her most future-Marchioness-of-Caernock stance. It may not have been impressive in height, but she hoped it seemed exceptionally smug.
“Oh, forgive me, my lady,” said Lord Wexenas. “I knew not of whom I was speaking with.”
“That much was obvious,” said Alison.
Lord Wexenas was really getting fired up now. “My lady, we’ll do everything in our power to keep you safe from brigands and scoundrels and—”
“Yes, yes, I think she understands,” said DCI Tirrin. “Good day, ma’am. And blessings upon your marriage.”
Alison thanked the constables and set off once more to find Gwenla, dodging the ‘lectric installers who had made it to the streetlamps on the Herot’s Hollow High Street.
Gwenla wasn’t in any of the shops or at the schoolhouse, or at the inn or the post office. Alison finally found her outside her cottage tending the garden.
“See here?” asked Gwenla, pointing to thin green stems rising out of the earth in clumps. “Know what they are?”
“Daffodils,” said Alison. “Is it really time again?” They had been blooming when Alison first arrived.
“They’ve got a ways to go before they flower, but spring will be here soon enough. I spotted some snowdrops in the churchyard. It’ll be lovely by the time the wedding comes.”
“I actually wanted to speak with you about that,” said Alison. “We’ve decided not to be married in the church, or rather not to be married by the vicar—”
“What’s old Lewis gone and done now? That miserable old git.
Did he say something rude to you? Were you thinking of going with the vicar in Fossholm instead?
It’s a nice church as well, not as old as this one, but nice.
Of course, we’ll need to move the catering for the banquet.
And the cake delivery. Did you speak with Rinka already? ”
Alison hadn’t realized Gwenla had been so intimately involved in the wedding planning, although she wasn’t exactly surprised. “No, we’re not thinking Fossholm. Keir says we can have an anvil wedding at the town hall.”
“An anvil wedding! Don’t tell me Weyland—now, you know I love him—”
“Weyland was…reluctant, but he did say he’d bring the anvil.”
Gwenla laughed. “I didn’t think you’d want the anvil without the blacksmith, but it is quite fun to hear it plink when the hammer strikes it. It reminds me of a dwarf wedding, though it’s been a long time since I’ve been to one of those. So who’s going to do the honors? Idris?”
Alison held her breath. “We were thinking you might do it.”
“Me?” Gwenla was shocked. She put down her spade and dusted the dirt from her gloves onto her apron. “You do realize who you’re asking. I’m not a vicar, or a judge, or a noble, or even a blacksmith.”
“But you’re a landowner, which means you can legally marry us here in Wilderise.”
Gwenla lifted her head, considering that. “Well, Lady Willana did leave me the property. A shame she’s not still with us. She would’ve been the perfect officiant.”
“Maybe you could think of what she’d say,” said Alison. She knew the dwarf often thought of Lady Willana’s perspective.
“She would have loved to see me try. She knew I’m not much of a speaker, but she liked to listen to me anyway.”
Alison didn’t agree that Gwenla wasn’t much of a speaker. She’d heard a number of her speeches, and she thought she was terrific: a bit frank, maybe, but genuine and relatable.
“So you’ll consider it at least?”
“Oh, alright,” said Gwenla. “If it’s what you both want, how can I say no? I just hope you won’t be disappointed with me if I say the wrong thing. I might go and pronounce you married to the wrong man.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” said Alison, laughing. “Thank you, Gwenla. You know, you helped me a lot back when things were difficult with Keir in the beginning. Without you, we might not be here.” She gave the dwarf a hug over her protests about the dirt on her apron.
“I’m just so glad you came. I didn’t think I’d have much of a life after Lady Willana left. It turns out, there was a lot more left for me to do.”
“And there still is,” said Alison.
Gwenla smiled. “Starting with learning what happens at a human wedding.”