After Lith, came Kamila and Raaz with Aran and Leria in front of them as flower children, tossing petals in front of the bride’s path. She received as many cheers as the groom, if not even more.
“What the heck is going on?” He asked as soon as Raaz let go of Kamila’s arm and entrusted her to Lith.
“I have no clue.” She replied.
This time they had followed protocol, with Lith wearing his high uniform but red to match the colors of the Desert and Kamila with an elegant emerald satin dress from Salaark’s wardrobe.
Right next to her stood her sister Zinya and Jirni, the two people who had helped her the most and who had played a critical role in bringing her to that point in her life.
On Lith’s side, instead, stood Protector and Trion in their respective human form, wearing a high uniform as well. Selia had cut Ryman’s hair to shoulder length and had shaved him to perfection, almost giving him a civilized look.
He kept tugging at the collar of his shirt for air, not used to tight-fitting clothes, but Salaark’s enchantments didn’t budge. He looked like a proud general but he felt like a bull with a suit.
As for Trion, his situation was even more awkward. There was still little love left between the demon and the Tiamat.
Thanks to the chain that bound him to Lith, Trion had grown to respect more his little brother by experiencing part of his life whereas Lith had only discovered more contemptible things about his older brother.
Yet he had chosen Trion as his groomsman because he knew how important it was to his parents. Seeing his two boys standing side by side filled Raaz with so much joy that he barely noticed the packed room.
He held Elina’s hand tight, passing her one handkerchief after another. She had started crying in joy from the moment she had sat down and had never stopped ever since.
“Trion looks so good in high uniform.” She sobbed. “I’m happy that he’s part of the family again yet also sad because we’ll never have the opportunity to attend his wedding.”
“Let’s enjoy what time we have left with him, dear.” Raaz wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “It’s more than any other parent in our situation has ever had.”
Locrias’ and Valia’s families had been invited as well and were sitting on the far end of the groom’s side. The ceremony held little importance to them, they had come solely to enjoy the company of their loved ones.
When Salaark arrived to officiate the ceremony, Leegaain walked by her side and stopped one step behind her once she stood in front of the couple.
“What is he doing here?” Lith rudely pointed at the Father of all Dragons with his thumb. “He wasn’t here the first time and I’m pretty sure he isn’t on the guest list.”
For the occasion, the Guardian had short black hair, the pale skin typical of the Empire, and ever wore a black gala dress. The only sign of his real nature was his eyes, red with a vertical pupil that nothing had of human.
Those very eyes glared at Lith in annoyance, his nostrils dilated as he inhaled sharply and opened his mouth to give the runt a piece of his mind.
“I’m not here because I want to but-” His stern voice turned into a whimper and the black of his pupils covered the red of his irises as the Overlord’s high heel dug deep into his shoes and flesh.
“He’s here because I invited him.” She completed the phrase for him while Leegaain clenched his teeth to withstand the pain. “It was a shame having so many of our children assembled without giving them the possibility to meet their father.”
“Are you telling me that all those guys are yours?” Kamila looked at the packed room and then at Salaark’s swollen womb.
“Ours. Mine and Leegaain’s.” She said with a dazzling smile while twisting the heel a bit more. She kept the Father of all Dragons from making a snarky remark that would ruin the mood. “We’re older than we look.”
Kamila swallowed a lump of saliva, wondering if it was something that only a Guardian could achieve or just a common situation in the Awakened community.
“Three is my limit.” She whispered at Lith, deciding that forewarned was forearmed.
“That’s two past mine.” He replied.
The ceremony went smoothly, Salaark repeated the same speech of the first time and the spouses exchanged the same vows and betrothal gifts.
After that came the banquet and the room split with the male guests congratulating the groom and the female guests the bride.
“Gods, I can’t believe you could say or make something so romantic.” Friya was the only exception. “I mean, Kamila giving you back the Camellia was moving, but your idea with the Tuner almost made me tear up.”
“Congratulations, Scourge. Another one bites the dust, huh?” Zolgrish the Lich nudged at him, the red light of undeath in his left eye flickered multiple times in what was supposed to be a wink.
“What do you mean another?” Lith asked in confusion. “And how did you get here?”
“I brought him here.” Inxialot the Lich King replied. “Otherwise I would have never remembered the when and where.”
Lith had invited the Council representatives only because he couldn’t risk offending them by limiting the invitation to Feela. He had never expected them to actually attend.
“I gladly accepted because I really wanted to thank you.” Zolgrish said.
“Thank me for what?” Lith asked in confusion.
They had never met or spoken ever since they had agreed on their respective shares of the silver mines in Jambel.
“Not you-you. More like your brother, Merman.” The Lich took a yellow stone the size of a marble from one of the pockets of his tuxedo, conjuring from it the image of a cow wearing a suit, a top hat, and with thick mustaches on its snout.
Lith recognized it as one of the characters from a children’s book that he often read to Aran and Leria.
“I know that everyone says Mint is a jerk, but he was so nice to me. He sent me so many test subjects for my experiments and top-notch artifacts that I think he has a crush on me.”
“Who did what now?” The more Lith heard, the less he understood.
“Sure, the test subjects were unruly, rude, and aggressive upon their arrival and the artifact already imprinted, but the poor way they were delivered didn’t lower their research value.
“When you see Midna again, please give him my thanks and tell him I’m not interested.”
“Cheers.” Zolgrish brought a flute of wine to his skeletal mouth, sending both the liquid and the glass down the small bits of flesh that still comprised what was left of his throat. “Is it me or is this stuff flavorless?”
“It is you.” Ratpack whined as the flute clinked against the ribs and the wine wet his master’s pants. “No taste buds with no flesh. You need body.”
“Oh, right.” The Lich patted his own forehead with an open palm as he reverted back to his living appearance.
