Well Played (Well Met #2)(55)

“No.” Emily shook her head. “I mean yes. No, I’m not freaked out, and yes, I’m okay to drive.”

“Then let’s go. I’ll follow you over to April’s place.” I tugged on her arm. I was doing a lot of arm tugging and directing today, and this constant vigilance had me on edge too. I’d been so focused on keeping Emily away from Simon that I’d hardly been in character at all today. I loved being Beatrice, and I’d been cheated out of a day to be her. Oh, well. We still had two more weekends of Faire. It wasn’t over yet.

Back at April’s house I was a little more in my comfort zone. Emily and I had practiced her wedding hairstyle a couple times already, and it was easy enough. A simple updo, with tendrils of her natural curls escaping around her temples, and a delicate crown of pale pink silk flowers on top of it all. I took my time until her hair was perfect, while April supervised.

“Wow, that looks great. You need to do mine next.” She refilled Emily’s champagne flute.

“No.” Emily tried to move it out of the way, but April steadied her hand and kept pouring.

“Yes. Don’t worry, I’m not going to let you get hammered. You just need to relax a little.”

“I’m plenty relaxed.”

“Uh-huh. You’re about to snap that champagne flute in half.”

“April’s right.” I waved her out of the chair she was in. “Go. Sit over there, drink your booze and chill for a minute while I do April’s hair.” I hadn’t realized that I would be doing April’s hair too, but her requesting it was an offer of friendship that I realized in that moment I’d been craving. So I settled her at the dressing table and our eyes met in the mirror. “Same updo?”

“Same updo.” She nodded and looked up at me in the mirror, her eyes a little uncertain. “You have time, right? I probably should’ve asked instead of just assuming . . .”

“Ah, hush up.” I gathered April’s hair in my hands. It was a little longer than Emily’s, but the curls were the same. “This won’t take any time at all.”

Once April’s hair was done, I attacked my own. I had no natural curl to speak of, so I wielded my curling iron like a weapon until my hair had twice the body it normally did and cascaded in loose blonde curls down below my shoulders. Then I pinned it up and threaded a few pale pink flowers into it here and there. April had some loose flowers in her hair too—green to match her dress. Only the bride got a bona fide flower crown at this Faire wedding.

There was something incongruous about arriving to Faire in a gray stretch limo as the last patrons were leaving for the day. The tires crunched over the gravel in the parking lot and several heads turned, trying to peer through the tinted windows.

“You ready?” April leaned across the seat and laid a hand over her sister’s wrist. Emily had been looking out the window the whole ride over, not saying a word. She’d been a big ball of stress all day, but now she turned to us with sparkling eyes and an easy smile. Her nerves were gone. Yes. She was ready.

She let out a deep breath as the limo driver opened the door. “Let’s do this.”





Sixteen




We’d had a wedding rehearsal, of course. One evening last week we’d met up at the Faire site to run through where everything was going to happen and where we’d need to stand. But going through the motions and marking our places didn’t give an accurate picture of what it was going to be like. How dream-like it was going to be, the three of us in our fluttery white and pastel dresses with flowers in our hair, heading down the main lane of Faire to marry Emily to Simon. Modern dresses with period details in this pastoral setting (yes, Mitch had been right about that word) made it hard to determine exactly what century we were in.

A couple dozen yards away from the chess field, Emily’s father was waiting for us, standing in the middle of the lane in a dark gray suit with his hands folded in front of him. I’d met him earlier this week at the rehearsal dinner but hadn’t talked to him much. He seemed quiet, almost stern, but now his expression melted when he saw us.

“Hey there, Sprite.” He stepped forward and bent to kiss Emily’s cheek. “You look beautiful.”

She blinked back tears as she practically glowed up at him. “Thank you, Daddy.”

April cleared her throat, and Mr. Parker looked shamefaced for a moment as he glanced over at April and me. “Of course, you girls look great too.”

“Yes, we do,” April agreed cheerfully. “Now let’s get Emily married.”

“Good idea.” He offered the bride his arm. “Are you ready for this? I like Simon fine, but you never know. Maybe he’s a jerk. You’re sure about this guy, right?”

Emily’s eyes widened in horror. “Of course I’m sure, Dad! What the hell kind of question is that?”

He smirked. “Just making sure.” He caught my eye and ushered me forward. “You first, I think.”

“Yep. It’s all me.” From where we stood I could hear the music coming from the chess field, a string quartet made up of some of Willow Creek High’s music students. It was time.

I set off down the lane by myself, and when the chess field was in sight I slowed to a languid stroll more suited for walking down a wedding aisle. It was easy to smile and look the part of a joyful bridesmaid, because that was exactly how I felt inside. The field that hosted our human combat chess match every weekend of Faire had been transformed. The giant chess board was still visible in its grass-and-white squares that covered the field. But those squares were covered with rows of wooden folding chairs with an aisle running down the middle. At one end of the field was a white wicker archway, and as I got closer I could see Simon and Mitch up there, waiting with the officiant.