Camellia grinned and grasped Florian’s arm. In her other hand, she held a bouquet of flowers, spray-painted gold. She wore her ballgown of gold and white; he wore a tunic of deep grey and silver. Finery at its finest, which was the tradition for Groazan weddings.

Beside Camellia, Florian’s heart beat fast as they exited the Presereme museum into a night lit by lanterns. Their friends lined the stairway that led to the grass – no family, just friends.

Meladee, an ever-resourceful mage, smiled wide and threw a cloth ball into the air. It exploded and glitter showered down.

Florian and Camellia stared wide-eyed for a moment. Then, they huddled and ducked together. Sparkles of gold fluttered around them, littering the stairs and finding their way into Camellia’s hair.

“Meladee,” Rooks said, leader of the Iruedian space navy. Her complaint was quiet as she tried to brush the sparkles from her dress of navy.

Eva, a Lurrien android, mimicked the motion and tried to rid her gold skin and yellow dress of the glitter. Camellia didn’t know how Eva found the stuff, since it blended so well. Sten stood at her side and rubbed glitter between his fingers.

Florian said nothing. He began the trip down the stairs. He tugged Camellia gently to his side, and she started down step by step.

They passed Benham.

With vigor, Benham brushed his long hair. “Dammit, Meladee. We’ll never get this stuff out.”

Meladee just clapped, along with the rest of the guests. Inez and Eder, a pair of brother-sister mages, waited at the bottom of the stairs on the green.

Florian stopped before them. “Did you help her make that?”

Inez shook her head. “Nope.”

The lines on either side of the stairs broke up, and everyone headed for the lawn.

Meladee and Eva approached. While Eva continued to brush herself and grumble, Meladee nudged Camellia on the arm.

“It made for a great picture. Photographer just showed me.” Meladee nodded over her shoulder to the photographer.

The man was busy getting pictures of the guests. The edges of his camera glowed, signifying its magical adaptation to night use.

Camellia and Florian had spent little on the wedding. They borrowed the museum after closing, as both ceremony and reception venue. After all, Florian was AAH chair for many years to come, and over half their guests were anthropologists and historians. It made perfect sense to use the museum.

They’d also bought no new clothes for the occasion, leaving them a good chunk of money to splurge on food and photographer. The photographer, they both agreed, was one of the most important aspects of the day. After all, they both valued preservation, memories, and documentation above all else.

Meladee mimed a burst in the air. “He captured the exact moment that it went from ball of fabric to golden glitter, and everyone had surprised looks of wonder on their faces. It’s a great picture. Do you want to see?”

Camellia shook her head. “Later. I’ll take your word for now.”

“The rest of the pictures will be sparkly and gold now,” Eva said.

Meladee waved her hand. “No, it dissolves. Don’t worry. I thought of everything.”

Camellia looked at her dress and saw only its own threads of gold. She felt Florian checking himself over. He made an appreciative sound.

“Speaking of pictures. Do you need us to do pose or something?” Rooks asked.

Camellia’s mouth formed a little O before she answered, “No. It’s mostly candid. He might pull you aside for a portrait. Otherwise, just have fun.”

Rooks nodded. “Sounds good.”

Florian engaged a senior anthropologist in conversation. Camellia flashed the man a smile. He’d presided over her library instruction, and she knew him well enough. But, she couldn’t help tuning out his words in favor of listening to Meladee hassle Rooks.

“Where’s your date? Come on, where’s your man?”

“No date,” Rooks said, with a shake of her head. Her tight, dark curls bounced over shoulders almost as dark as her hair.

“You need a date.”

Eva sighed. “Meladee, not everyone needs a date. Leave it alone.”

“Yes, please drop it,” Rooks added, with a tight smile.

“You brought a date.” Meladee stared at Eva and gestured to Sten.

Eva looked his way, and so did Camellia. She just saw Sten’s almost smug smile out of the corner of her eye.

Meladee continued, “You brought a date and you’re a freaking robot.”

Camellia turned. “Oh, Meladee. Come meet Luitpold. He taught me how to use the library when I was an apprentice.” Camellia pulled Meladee over and tossed her into the midst of the conversation.

Rooks, not usually thrilled with that kind of assistance, slipped away.

The night wore on. Camellia and Florian posed for a handful of portraits. Their photographer made the rounds and got pictures of all their guests. They ate. They danced. They talked. They were truly merry.

The final moment of the night, the photographer gathered them all for a big group picture. Everyone close to them, who still remained at the party, got into the picture, with Florian and Camellia at the center. Camellia counted Meladee, Eva, and Rooks. Sten and Benham. Inez and Eder. Old teachers and friends.

Alim, a Girandolan xenobiologist from outside the wormhole, had skipped the wedding, and of course, he would after Camellia had dashed his hopes of being with her. He wasn’t the only one absent. Camellia’s family had also skipped the event. For the first time in a long time, she missed their presence. Her mother wouldn’t have passed up the invitation, but Camellia’s mother was dead. And…so was Cernunnos.

Both people who helped her become who she was now.

A year later, she still thought about them. She probably always would. Camellia smiled for the picture, but it was the first time, she didn’t feel it reach her eyes.

The party disbanded. Florian and Camellia wished each guest a good night. Some stayed to help with cleanup.

Florian wandered off to speak to the caterer and photographer, probably discussing payment. Camellia left him to it and stood in the middle of the green with her full dress and nothing to do.

Meladee and Eva strolled to her side.

“Great party,” Meladee said.

“It was everything I imagine a wedding should be.” Eva’s eyes roved around the green. “Though, it’s the first I’ve ever been to.”

Camellia relaxed and held her bouquet loosely. “It was everything a wedding should be. It was…wonderful.”

Meladee tapped Camellia on the arm. “Hey. You’re Camellia Adalhard now. How awesome is that? You get to sign your name like a hero. In all the history books, they’re going to say you saved Iruedim as Camellia Adalhard. That is just…”

Camellia laughed. “I do love my new name. Adalhard.”

“And, you get to drop the other one,” Meladee said.

Zaris. Camellia wouldn’t have to share it with her father or the rest of her family again. She gave a short nod. “I’m so glad to be rid of it.”

“Adalhard. It fit you better all along,” Eva said.

“That it did.” Rooks strolled up to the group. “But, excuse my asking, what happens to all those anthropological papers you wrote?”

Camellia shrugged. “Nothing. They’ll use my old name. I and my new work will use the new one. With AAH research, it doesn’t matter so much who wrote the paper. What matters is the knowledge it added to the collective. And, I don’t need to worry about reputation because I work for a guild. That and…I’ve never had a sterling reputation.”

Rooks nodded slow. “All very good points. Well, I’m tired. I’ve got to sleep. We’ve got half a week to finish preparations, and then, it’s on to the test zone and who knows how that will go.”

“I’m a bit nervous,” Camellia said.

“I’m doubly nervous. You get to relax. It’s practically part of your honeymoon. I’ve got command of the damn situation.” Rooks almost turned away. “You know, even with the Finial poking around the wormhole, I’m not sure we’re ready. Changing the wormhole’s exit after just a year of study?” Rooks shook her head. “I’m trusting Inez and Eder and all those hundreds of mages who worked on it, but…”

“What could go wrong?” Meladee shrugged. Heavy sarcasm hung around her words.

“At least, we performed our rescues in Girandola over the last three months,” Rooks said.

Eva gave a brisk nod. “And cleared much of Lurren’s land. In part, thanks to you, Meladee.”

“And, we have three treaties with countries below the equator,” Camellia added. “Not to mention the equatorial islands have joined into our new pact between Groaza, Tagtrum, and Ponk. It’s not such a bad time.”

Camellia remembered the discussion with the island nation’s king. An elven man of ebony skin, he’d been intrigued by Rooks, both as the Curator of Iruedim’s space navy and someone who resembled the dominant peoples of his kingdom. Camellia felt that Rooks’ short appearance during negotiations had sped things up, but she didn’t want to mention it. Rooks didn’t seem to be in the market for a date. Something was going on there.

They stood in the deep of night, and Camellia could reach out to the wind, search for some stray thoughts, probe the currents for those that belonged to Rooks, and…

But, that would be beyond rude.

“Goodnight.” Rooks nodded as she left.

“Goodnight,” Camellia called.

“Are you sleeping tonight?” Meladee asked.

Eva shook her head. “I’m going to help with cleanup.”

Meladee gestured to Camellia. “Oh, yeah. Well, how about we clean up Camellia? Help her get out of her dress?”

Eva raised an eyebrow. “In the middle of the lawn? I think it would be better if she cleaned herself up.”

Camellia raised her hand. “I don’t need help. Besides, that’s for Florian to…”

Meladee turned slow to face Camellia. “Don’t tell me you’ve waited all this time to do the deed with him.” Meladee made a quick gesture to Florian. “Guys got a pretty decent set of pecks, and you won’t even entertain the possibility?”

Camellia held up her hand again. “Meladee. I have not waited. Not in the slightest. And that’s all I’ll say.”

“Okay, good. That’s all you have to say.”

Meladee followed Eva, and Camellia thought she might as well do her best to clean the yard. She looked at the gift table and decided to start there. Her gown might be restrictive, but she could handle a bunch of envelopes.

Florian touched Camellia’s back. She knew it was him by his footfall and his scent. Camellia turned. Envelopes filled her arms.

Florian raised an eyebrow. “You look happy.”

Camellia glanced down. “I have envelopes of money in my arms. It’s impossible to be anything but.”

“Ready for home? The caterers are going to finish the cleanup. It’s just their things left.”

Camellia nodded. “I’m ready.”

Florian smiled and reached for her shoulder. He guided her to a walking path, and they found their carriage. Florian’s horse was ready to pull it. Camellia stepped in first. She let Florian help her, but even with the envelopes and her full dress, she could manage thanks to the aid of night.

They sat side by side. Florian worked the reins. Camellia organized the envelopes into neat stacks and bound them. Their little carriage rolled smooth on the road, and Camellia dared to put her head to Florian’s shoulder as they traveled through silent night.

A short ride later, they rolled into the wooded neighborhood and passed over shaded roads. Camellia wondered if she should have driven. She felt the pull of sleep but not as strong as Florian must. Still, he drove the carriage with care, probably better and with a more practiced hand than she ever would.

Camellia had always been nervous when it came to riding or directing horses. It came from her short experience with Sorin’s vampire horse, a gangly beast of sallow grey and white. It fled at its master’s death and hadn’t been seen since. The monster horse probably wandered the lands of Vetouin country, feasting on the mares, siring dhamiprs, and running the beach that bordered the sea that led to Groaza.

“Here we are. Home at last.” Florian hopped down from the carriage. “You need help?”

Camellia said, “I’ll take some.”

He offered his hand, and she stepped down.

Florian nodded to the door. “Why don’t you go in. I’ll take care of things out here and meet you. Just give me a few minutes.”

Camellia took the key from Florian. He was the only one who had pockets to hold it, so she’d left her key at home. She headed for the door, squeezing between generous bushes. She pushed the key in the slot and turned. With a click and squeak of hinges, Camellia stepped into their house and closed the door behind her.

It was a simple place, compared to the mansions of Presereme and Gotic. They had four bedrooms, a quiet office, a clean kitchen, two bathrooms, and a great room, which housed all the furniture they had thrifted.

Camellia saw the dresser she re-stained. She saw the dining table and its set of chairs, all of which now stood steady on their once wobbly feet. Florian could afford new furniture, but they liked the experience of shopping the used stores for little gems. Camellia liked restoring the old wood. She had a handful of pieces left, and then, their house would be fully furnished, except for two of the bedrooms. Camellia didn’t have that much time on her hands to play house, but soon, she would make the time.

Camellia dropped the envelopes in the office. As she did, she caught the names printed in neat letters: To Florian and Camellia Adalhard. Sometimes the other way around. There were no return addresses. Signatures and well wishes would be inside, along with the traditional Groazan gift of money. But, Camellia didn’t need to see the signatures. She knew the handwriting. She glimpsed Meladee’s – tight curling letters. She found Eva’s – sharp and printed in perfect rows as if by a press.

Camellia missed her times with Meladee and Eva. She had the life she had set out to get, but it would be nice if Meladee and Eva lived around the corner rather than halfway around the world. Camellia might not have felt the sting of their continued absence if not for her total lack of family.

Camellia paused. Family.

She picked up one envelope and examined the handwriting. She could have sworn it was her father’s. Camellia’s hands shook. She flipped the envelope over and put her fingers beneath the flap. She almost tore the back open but stopped.

Not tonight. I’m not doing this tonight.

Camellia put the envelope down, left the office, and reentered the great room.

Florian had come inside. He locked the door and turned to face her. “You’re still dressed.”

“Yes.” Camellia looked down the length of her body at the white and gold, which shimmered in what little light traveled through the room. “I thought you might want to participate in the Groazan tradition of unwrapping…” Camellia gestured to herself.

Florian perked up. “Good idea. I’ll leave it in the middle of the room – if you don’t mind. I don’t feel like getting that dress upstairs.”

“That’s quite alright.” Camellia stood tall and still.

Florian started with her hair. He plucked flower topped combs from Camellia’s dark waves, releasing what little of her hair had been up. Florian stroked the hair free and left it, resting on her shoulders. He stood close and reached behind her to the seam of her bodice.

“This is one of the best days of my life,” he said.

Camellia smiled.

Florian got the bodice free and tossed it to the floor a few feet away, leaving room for the skirt to form a puddle of its own. Florian’s hands worked the clasp of the skirt. He still faced her. His fingers seemed to struggle. “I’m tired. I feel like one of our thrift store finds tonight.”

Camellia reached behind and undid the clasp. “That’s alright. I’ll love you like you’re brand new.”