What to say then about the first meeting between an elven king and Troth’s highest servants? Save that it was all that one would have wished. The painters would be in transports, recording the arc of the cloudless sky against the backdrop of white stone and discarded ivory petals, with the sun shining off bright armor and rich banners, and Amhric’s hair glowing with an autumnal luster against all the warm pallor, a harvest god amid human splendor. The rustle of the crowd grown silent, the formal courtesies exchanged with such dignity, the sense of history being made before us: it was so perfect it might have been staged, but was all the more breathtaking for not having been.

This moment broke at last, and as with all such things, the reality that followed the storied moment was more tedious than exhilarating. We accompanied the First Minister into the building, were disposed in conference rooms for the remainder of the day, and spent all of it speaking much and accomplishing little beyond expressing mutual hopes for an amicable relationship. I talked more than I wished, as Amhric remained a King-Reclusive; it was clear this distinction confused the Troth government, but they accepted it with the grace of long-time politicians and we managed the courtesies. The introduction of the parties from Serala was more awkward, but worth it for the sight of the Archipelagan humans truly grasping that there was already a world without elven dominion and that they were heir to it if only they were willing to enter it without the resentments that would otherwise warp their passage. This realization would not solve the problems on the islands overnight, but as groundwork it was invaluable, and I was glad they had chosen to come.

Almond I saw to the chapel on the Cathedral’s grounds, there to rest in state until after the wedding. Ivy I conducted to her little home, much to our mutual chagrin; after months of living in one another’s pockets it felt strange to be parting, but having returned to Troth we felt constrained to observe the moral codes we’d grown up with. To scandalize our families unnecessarily felt rude; to do so while under the eye of two nations, gauche. So I kissed her hand and delivered her back to the life she’d known before, if amended by the addition of Emily who wanted to keep her company and help her prepare for the festivities.

Our status as celebrities made it difficult for us to travel the city, something we discovered having been forced to resort to a carriage to reach Ivy’s dwelling. I had only just re-entered it with a sigh, when Amhric rested a hand on my wrist. “It’s enough, isn’t it?”

“I think,” I said, tired. I glanced outside the window as the carriage jerked into motion, and a very slow motion it was amid the crowds eager for a glimpse of elven royalty. “Unavoidable, perhaps.”

“Where do we go, then?”

I rubbed my brow. “From here? I imagine back to the palace. My parents would offer us more comfortable shelter and I would lief spend the time there rather than at the First Minister’s beck... but we would have to reach them and that seems... rather more trouble than I anticipated.”

“It would, if you were to be seen.”

I stared at him, then slumped back in the seat with a weary chuckle. “I have been too long at this to have missed so obvious a solution.”

“It has been an emotional day,” he said, looking out the window now.

“Is it too much?” I asked, gentle. “I won’t leave you if it’s too much—”

He smiled at me over his shoulder with all that imperishable sweetness. My heart felt too full for my chest.

“I had to ask,” I said. “I’ll always ask.”

“I know,” he said, soft.

So the carriage returned us to the palace, and from there I slipped into the streets beneath the cover of magic and presented myself to the butler at the Locke family home. This time, at least, he didn’t turn me away for a stranger, and my mother was not the only one awaiting me in the parlor.

“My boy,” said the man behind her as she embraced me, and I grew still in her arms. I had not seen my father since my first journey, had not dared to wonder what he would think of me now that I stood revealed as something other than what he’d thought he’d raised. All my life I had looked up to him, as much as possible, for he’d so rarely been home: an important man, who’d spent his life protecting Troth’s interests in foreign countries. He’d been my model for how one should conduct oneself; it was from him I’d learned my habit of stoicism, and from him I’d derived the impression that it was best to stand on one’s own, for one would often be called to act that way. My father, the ambassador plenipotentiary, first to Haven-on-High, and then to Candor.... whom I’d never expected to be like, because I’d expected to die long before I made claim to his experience, or his wisdom.

I had done so much since leaving Evertrue: had battled elves, the dead, demons. Had commanded armies, flown in the sky on the back of a dragon out of legend; had handled magics that could conduct me across the ocean in a single step; had, in fact, saved Troth, and become a man at last, with work to do, a woman to wed, and a people to rule. And yet my voice trembled when I said, “Father?”

He gathered us all in his embrace, mother and son. “Oh, my boy. You’re safe at last. Welcome home.”

The following week was caught up in final preparations for the wedding, but when I could I stole time from my official duties to desport myself with Guy and Radburn and Chester in the chocolate houses where we’d once been students... wearing a hooded coat made sensible by the weather, and if it failed to perfectly serve, the proprietors were always more than eager to pledge discretion in return for the privilege of serving the foreign prince. Eyre I found often with Carrington, still a little more gaunt than I liked, but well content with everything save the amount of time he’d been forced to spend calming the faculty leadership at Leigh, which had been thrown into convulsions by the very unexpected revelations of Vigil’s athenaeum—“Politics,” he’d said, disgusted. “They wax uglier the less power one has.” I spent time with my parents, with Ivy walking in the winter gardens behind the capital’s seat, chaperoned by a parade of genets; with Amhric both over negotiation tables and alone in the room they’d given him, where he allowed himself to relax... and with Almond, in the silence of the little chapel adjacent to the great Cathedral.

It was a busy week but I was home. Even the landsense swelled with the rightness of the ground beneath my feet.

Unavoidably, the wedding was a spectacle planned to within an inch by advisors to both nations, and involved everything from a ride in a gilt carriage drawn by white horses to a ridiculous number of tropical flowers shipped through the Door for the occasion on the back of the drake. The Vessel and the Escutcheon themselves would serve as the male and female priests for the occasion, with Amhric standing in the role of sacred witness. My parents would be there, and Ivy’s to give her away, and all my friends, human, elven, and genet, had consented to attend—had in most cases insisted. So I had genets for ringbearers and Guy and Radburn and Chester as my male attendants, and a rather flustered Carrington had been tapped to stand behind Ivy at the altar, with Kelu and Emily and Serendipity.

We bowed our heads to the gilded carriage, the tropical flowers, to the Cathedral’s bells announcing the ceremony as they would have the election of a new First Minister, or the ascension of a new Vessel. We submitted to the pomp and the crowds and the people who crowded into the Cathedral to watch a native woman of modest background wed a foreign prince. We let it take on all the trappings of the political event it had unavoidably been destined to become.

And yet when at last we joined hands before the altar, all of that fell away. We could have been standing alone in the most humble chapel in all Troth, being married by a parish priest and priestess, because the only thing that mattered in that moment was Ivy’s hand in mine, her eyes meeting mine, her breath leaping in her throat when I pledged to her. I had feared that we would lose the sanctity of our vows in the bustle. I should have known better.

“Then until God parts them, let no one on this earth do so, for we the Church, the embodiment of God’s will and beneficence in this world, do now see them as one body, husband and wife,” the Vessel finished. “Morgan Locke. Ivy Locke. You are wed.”

I rested my fingertips beneath her chin to steady us both and kissed her, soft as breath leaving my body.

“Forever,” she whispered to me. “Until God parts us.”

“Forever,” I promised.

After the hallowed timelessness of the ceremony, the reception was everything I’d feared: interminable, tiresome, and filled with far too many people I barely knew. Fortunately, my brother was a king and when he suggested that it was time for the newlyweds to be excused none dared gainsay him; from across the room I saw the merriment in his eyes, and the rue. He would stay and sate the crowd, and this would be ample wedding gift from him.

It was not enough, either, for Guy, Radburn, and Chester drove us to the hotel I’d arranged for our stay.

“Your honor guard,” Radburn said. “And never fear. We’ll be in the lobby turning away the oglers.”

“What you mean is that you’ll be in the bar hoping the hotel staff will turn away the oglers,” Ivy said. She was tucked under my arm, grinning; I reflected that there was something to be said for prior consummation of a union, if it meant we felt no desperation to rush for our marriage bed the moment the ceremony concluded.

Considering her riposte, Radburn said, “Well, yes. Most probably.”

Guy snorted. “I’ll make sure he gets home in one piece. And make excuses for you in the morning to all the dignitaries who’ll wonder why the elven mouthpiece didn’t show to parley.”

“I’d like to think they’re none of them that witless as to suffer confusion on why a new husband might not be on time for work the day after his wedding,” I said.

“Then you have no idea how much self-importance a politician can accrue in years of titular service.” Guy shook his head. “Why do you think I’ve been avoiding politics?”

“I thought it was because you avoided responsibility as a matter of course,” Radburn offered.

“Precisely because if I didn’t I’d end up where I am now!”

“Don’t worry,” I said with a chuckle. “I’ll save you from Troth’s parliament. Give me a few weeks.”

He eyed me. “Is this about those sour-faced foreigners you brought with you, then?”

“It is,” I said. “I fear it’s still politics, but it will at least be hosted in cities with tropical beaches.”

“And horse-eared lasses?” Radburn asked.

“And that,” I agreed.

“I’m ready now!”

I laughed. “Later. My next few days are spoken for.”

We endured their good-natured teasing until we arrived, and then they handed Ivy down from the carriage to my arms and I knew that for all her frustrations with them that she loved them, and was glad of their send-off. Chester, who’d been driving, descended to kiss her hands and embrace me.

“We really will keep a watch,” he said. “But take all the time you need. For once, we have it.”

“Thank you,” I said, as Ivy leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“Yes,” she agreed. “You’ve been like a brother to us, Chester. We won’t forget.” She smiled impishly. “Particularly when it comes time to hand out the hard work.”

“Save me from the drudgery of the society of my friends.” His smiled softened. “I’m glad to have seen this day.”

We paused then, thinking of all the things that might have prevented it.

“Go on then,” he said. “I’ve the horses to take round, and those two jesters to corral, and apparently a hotel bar to save from their tyranny.”

“Good night, Chester,” I said, and ushered my wife into the lobby, and from there to our rooms.

There was champagne awaiting us, and our bed had been scattered with hibiscus petals. I daresay we didn’t notice any of it until much, much later. And though her body had become familiar to me, the knowledge that she was mine in the eyes of our kith and kin, and that she would be mine until death parted us... that made everything fresh to me, and there was wonder in my touch and hers. We had learned one another as lovers. We learned each other that night as spouses, with the luxury of time and privacy and the imprimatur of society.

It was different. I could not have described how. But I was happy, and I thought, surprised, that I could see that remaining true for all the days to come.