Donkeyskin - ON HOLD

Of Weddings

*Of Weddings*

Alexandre waited just outside a side door to the throne room with Gabriel, Tristan and a gaggle of other noblemen who had been chosen as his groomsmen because of their or their families' status at court. He wore a dark grey suit with a cream waistcoat, a lighter grey tie, and a lapel pin of white and pink flowers. Strangely, these colors reminded him of Elodie. The grey was a similar shade to her eyes, the cream was only a hair paler than her skin, and the pink was the color that flattered her the most.

Tristan and Gabriel stood silent, eyeing the other groomsmen with a bit of grumpiness. Finally, Gabriel muttered, "If my wedding's going to be like this, then I should just push my intended off a cliff now, and be done with it." He stalked off as the opening strains of the wedding march sounded and practically shoved the groomsmen out.

Tristan, Alex's best man, leaned over and whispered, "I swear, if it wasn't your wedding today, I'd turn and run, and just keep running until I could fling myself off a cliff. You owe me, Alex."

Alex snorted. "Someday, Tristan," he teased. "You'll find someone you love as much as I love Elodie, and then it'll be you standing by the altar."

Tristan shook his head solemnly. "Never," he said, then followed Gabriel out the door. After a few seconds, Alex walked out.

The throne room was filled to the brim, not just with nobles, but with city people. Alex thought he recognized one girl who stood near the back. Hadn't he seen her with Elodie more than once? His attention was soon torn away when he took his place by the throne, Tristan beside him.

"You really like this girl?" Tristan asked, not for the first time. Alex nodded, and that was the end of it, because the doors opened and Elodie's bridesmaids made their way up the aisle. Earlier, someone had sprinkled the isle with rose petals, and the ladies' skirts dispersed them. As they took their places, Alex named them to himself. The one with the fair hair was Fleur, a dancer. Then came Belle, and he smiled at her. She smiled back, mouthing "Congratulations." The redhead was Manon, who had just had a baby. The brunette who was Elodie's maid of honor would be Ninon, though Alex had yet to meet her.

The music changed, and Elodie emerged from the doorway, floating on the arm of her mentor. M. Beaufort held her hand, gazing upon her as if she were his own daughter. But Alex barely noticed him. The space around Elodie was transformed by a kind of transcendence, a halo of peace and grace. She herself seemed to glow with a silvery beauty, a delicacy that gave her the looked of a wide-eyed porcelain doll that would break with the slightest touch. Yet there was a strength about her, and in her face, Alex could read her past, the pain, the grief, the blame, the fear, the sadness, the anger. The strength.

***

As Elodie walked–no, floated–down the aisle, she felt the weight of thousands of eyes upon her, and it nearly stopped her dead in her tracks. But M. Beaufort squeezed her hand and whispered, "Eyes on me, princess." She obeyed, for it was second nature, now, after a year of letting him direct her in dance. But as she turned her gaze upon him, she caught sight of Alex, waiting at the end of the aisle, and the look in his eyes took her breath away. He was mesmerized. She met his gaze, and something in both of their bearings must have changed, because the throne room was bathed in a sudden hush.

The only sound now was the music, and, underneath, the muffled noise her heeled shoes made on the carpet. M. Beaufort must have caught on to whatever it was that had happened, and he whispered again in her ear, "I'm so proud of you, Elodie. Look where you are now, and where you were five years ago."

So Elodie looked, and she understood. "You saved me, twice," she told him. "First, when you came to court, then again when you found me in the mountains."