Zoë returned the smile as she helped Alyce set the wreath on her wheaten hair. «It suited very well, while I was there», she said. «And if I had not come to Arc-en-Ciel, I would never have met you and Cerys — and Alyce».

«…who has lent you the wearing of the Furstána emeralds, I see», Iris Cerys said with a sly smile, jutting her chin in the direction of the necklace of blue-green fire at Zoë’s throat. «I remember when she wore them for her own marriage».

«And her mother’s bracelet!» Zoë replied, brandishing the opal and sapphire bangle on one wrist, then hugging Alyce close. «Oh, it’s wonderful to have both of you here», she continued, beaming at the pair of them. «Thank you so much for coming!»

A bridal wreath was not the only gift the two sisters of the Rainbow had brought to Zoë Morgan for her wedding day. When the wedding guests had assembled in the little chapel, the pair accompanied the priest to the altar steps, Iris Cerys nodding reassurance to the nervous bridegroom as she and Iris Jessilde spread a small rainbow carpet on the kneeler where Zoë and Jovett would recite their vows. Withdrawing then to the side of the chapel, they sweetly sang the traditional Ave Vierge Dorée as Zoë Morgan walked down the aisle with her father. The song brought back fond memories both for her and for Alyce, who followed and stood as witness for the bride.

After the nuptial mass, when bride and groom had made their vows and received the Sacrament, kneeling then on the rainbow carpet for the bridal blessing, Jovett led his bride to the Lady altar, so that the radiant Zoë might offer up her bridal wreath at the feet of the Blessed Virgin — except that, before they turned to leave, Jovett plucked one perfect white rose from the wreath and touched it to his lips.

«This should be Ahern’s», he whispered, gazing into her eyes as he gave it into her hands. «Let’s lay it on his grave before we leave».

She could not speak to thank him for the gesture, but she managed to nod before they turned to go. Their steps took them back to the altar steps, and the grave slabs at their feet — Ahern and his father, Keryell, both of them Earls of Lendour in turn. There Zoë and Jovett stood a moment with heads bowed in tribute to Zoë’s first husband, then bent together to lay the rose on the incised letters of Ahern’s name. As they passed on up the aisle and into the little porch of the chapel, they stood aside to let the other guests pass into the yard, and Zoë turned in the circle of Jovett’s arm to press her forehead against his.

«You loved him, too, didn’t you?» she whispered into his shoulder.

«I did», Jovett replied. «He and Sé were the closest friends of my youth». He sighed gently. «I had hoped Sé might be here, but…»

«I know he would wish us joy», she replied, gazing up into his eyes as the guests slipped past them, giving them their moment of privacy. «And thank you for what you did with the rose».

«It seemed right», he replied, tracing the line of her jaw with his fingertips and lifting a strand of wheaten hair. «What went before…simply was not meant to be».

«No», she agreed quietly. «But it does no good to grieve over a past that cannot be changed. What matters now is that we have come to love one another».

He answered the sweet and tender kiss she offered with a passion that startled them both. Jovett was grinning sheepishly as they drew apart.

«Dearest wife», he murmured, «I think we had best join our wedding guests, lest we scandalize your late beloved — though I like to think he would approve, given the circumstances».

«I know he would», Zoë agreed, brushing her fingertips tenderly across his lips. Then, with a wistful smile, she touched her fingertips to her own lips and turned to glance back into the chapel where her first love slept, gently blowing him their mutual kiss.

«Good-bye, dearest Ahern. Sleep gently».

Hand in hand, then, the two of them departed the chapel to join their wedding guests.

The wedding feast was held in the hall of Cynfyn Castle, as festive an affair as had ever occurred within those walls. To honor his daughter and her new husband, Kenneth invited them to preside from the high table, but Jovett insisted that he and his bride could not usurp that honor, and would only share it with the castle’s rightful lord and lady.

«While I have just become your goodson, my lord, this is still your hall. Best if we underline that you shall always take precedence here».

Kenneth was smiling slightly as he nodded. «Well spoken. But you are still the guests of honor here tonight, so you shall sit at my right hand. I trust you’ll not object to that?»

«I shall try always to carry out your wishes, my lord», Jovett said with a slight bow and a smile — and obediently led his bride in to take their places at the high table, Kenneth and Alyce following in the coronets of their rank.

It was a modest feast by the standards of the court at Rhemuth, but for the bride and groom, it was a taste of the treatment usually accorded only to royalty. After the first course, young Alaric enticed his younger cousin Duncan into several forays underneath the cloths covering the high table, eventually eliciting Kenneth’s sharp order for Sir Llion to take both boys in charge and divert them to other pursuits in the garden, so that the adults could enjoy their meal in peace.

Thank you, Alyce mouthed to the young knight, also pointing at her plate. I’ll save you a plate.

His cheery wave conveyed both understanding and gratitude as he gathered up several more of the younger children and led them out into the castle yard, like a mother hen parading her chicks.

«We shall have to see about finding Llion a wife», Kenneth murmured to Alyce, as he tucked into his meal again. «Such skill with small boys merits a few sons of his own».

«What, and lose his services with our own?» Alyce replied. «He is young yet. There will be plenty of time in a few years — and when our Alaric has gained some maturity».

«You’re right», Kenneth agreed. «I had not thought of that. But do keep the prospect in mind».

«I shall indeed».

It was something of an hour later, when the wedding supper was well underway and a troupe of players were offering entertainment, that Kenneth drew his wife’s attention to a dark-clad figure standing quietly in the shadows at the far end of the hall.

«Look who has finally made an appearance».

«It’s Sé», Alyce murmured, touching a hand to her husband’s arm. «He did come for Jovett’s wedding».

«I told you he would — at least for the feast», Kenneth replied, though he smiled as he said it. «He is a good friend of this family, Alyce».

«He is», she agreed. «Pray, excuse me».

«Of course».

As she started toward him, he moved farther into the shadows just inside the doorway, laying a hand across his heart and inclining his head in wordless greeting as she joined him. He was leaner than when last she had seen him, at her son’s christening, shedding weight from a frame already lean and fit, and further refining the high cheekbones, the narrow, aristocratic nose. The close-clipped beard and mustache underlined the new refinement, made him look more lethal. His eyes were still the same startling blue, but with a harder edge.

Only the white belt of his knighthood relieved the stark simplicity of the ankle-length black robe he wore, fastened at the shoulder in the Eastern manner. A few strands of silver threaded the chestnut hair at the temples and in the braid sleeked back and clubbed at the nape of the neck in an intricate warrior’s knot.

«Sé», she breathed, only the shhh sound really audible.

«My lady». He inclined his head again.

«Kenneth said you would come, but I wasn’t sure», she replied. «You have been long silent».