Wide stone stairs ascend to the entrance, flanked by braziers that burn with ever-living flames. Pilgrims pause here to pray, to leave offerings, or to marvel at the artistry and power that radiates from the temple’s walls. This place is nearly enough to make me chuckle. It could have been spectacular. The one nice thing I can say is that it's in better repair than Oskar’s run-down palace. I know that I dare not laugh at their temple. They’ve gilded everything they could. The colors weren’t carefully chosen, so to my eye, it looks more like it was thrown together from rummage sale leftovers.

  The mosaics clash with the stained glass, the glass clashes with the paints, and the stones all clash with each other. It’s as if someone let a child loose who was determined to use every color they had and mix a few more in the bargain. It’s obviously costly and utterly horrid. It’s almost preposterously tacky. I marvel at it and the reactions of these humans to it. “Is this truly what impresses humans? Makes them feel reverent?”

  At this point, I am half-convinced that I’ve been going about impressing humans all wrong. An idea strikes me, and I turn to Ina. “Your Grace, how much of this temple is Oskar responsible for?”

  Duchess Ina smiles at me. “Quite a bit. A major fire occurred a few years ago, and the entire area had to be rebuilt almost from scratch. Oskar decided the old temple wasn’t grand enough, so he enlarged it and made some other alterations. How did you know?” “It reminds me a bit of his court attire,”

  I say, doing my best to keep a straight face. Oskar’s outfits appear to be chosen solely based on cost, and many of them do him no favors. I’m not surprised that he designed the exterior. I wonder briefly whether he’s colorblind. Queen Grethe, on the other hand, has excellent taste, just not in husbands.

  We wander around a bit before we head up the steps to go inside. Stepping inside, we are enveloped by a cathedral of shadow and light. Sunbeams pour through towering stained-glass windows, each pane a riot of color depicting the seven gods in scenes of creation, conflict, and compassion. The light shifts throughout the day, painting the stone floors and columns with living mosaics—fiery reds, tranquil blues, verdant greens, golden yellows, silvery whites, and mysterious violets. Hundreds of candles flicker in wrought-iron stands and golden candelabra, their flames reflected in polished marble and gilded altars.

  In the alcoves dedicated to each god, the lighting changes: the Flame’s shrine glows with a perpetual fire, the Wave’s with shimmering reflections from a hidden pool, the Sword’s with shafts of sunlight that fall like blades, the Tree’s with dappled green from glass leaves overhead, the Star’s with a soft celestial glow, and the Mask’s with shifting shadows that dance across the walls. Incense smoke curls in the air, catching the light and lending a dreamlike haze. The atmosphere is hushed, reverent, and timeless. It seems as if echoes of ancient hymns linger in the vaulted arches, and every footstep appears to awaken the memory of prayers whispered by generations past.

  The air is cool, scented with the aromas of stone, wax, incense, and sacred herbs. The interplay of light and shadow creates a sense of mystery and awe, as if the gods themselves might step from their alcoves at any moment to walk among their worshippers. The interior was designed by someone with much more taste than whoever did the exterior. I’m shocked at how different the interior is from the exterior. As I’m turning around, taking in the space, an older priest bustles up and bows to Duchess Ina. “We were not aware that you’d be visiting us today, Your Grace,” he intones.

  “Father Caryson, allow me to introduce you to Princess Víl? of The Fey,”

  Duchess Ina winks at me. We go through the social niceties before I begin asking the priest about state weddings. I would like to know what to expect during the ceremony, including the allowed decorations, and all the necessary details to ensure a smooth arrival at the altar with Kenric without causing a diplomatic incident. My ladies are all scribbling furiously, making copious notes about what is and isn’t allowed. The priest takes this in and frowns slightly. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, Your Highness. The Lord Exchequer already informed us that there would be a state wedding. We were planning to handle the decorations….”

  His voice trails off as both Ina and I spin to face him. I look over Father Caryson. “A very smart woman once told me that no woman in her right mind allows a man to plan her wedding. If you have some suggestions, I’m open to ideas, but nothing gets purchased without either Duchess Ina or me approving it.”

  He swallows hard and nods, doing his best not to look disappointed even though his scent reeks of disappointment. Inwardly, I smirk. “Hah! I’m on to you. Nothing more than a brigand in temple robes.”

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  Outwardly, I smile placidly while I snatch his windfall right out of his hands.

  He thought I’d be some empty-headed, inexperienced, simpering chit who would let him spend the entire budget here, where he could funnel most of it either into the temple’s coffers, or more likely, to his family’s coffers, to provide things at inflated prices and use up the entire budget here. I ask if it might be possible to release butterflies. The priest chuckles and shakes his head. He waves a hand at the great vaulted ceiling far above us. “It would be a poor omen for your wedding. Bats inhabit the upper reaches. They’d swoop out and devour them.”

  Given the exterior, I’m not surprised. I grimace at that idea and agree with the priest. I briefly consider releasing doves, but I discard that idea. No one wants to be dodging an aerial assault at a wedding. Doves are just prettier pigeons. Fey tradition says we should release something living. Ina suggests that we wait until we’re at the feast hall to release the butterflies. That sounds reasonable, unless this place is also going to be huge and infested with bats. I ask to see the hall where the wedding will take place, so we’re off to visit it next.

  It’s a feast hall in Oskar’s castle. It’s in much the same condition as our rooms were. Many things seem to have gone missing, like trim, decorations, and even flooring. Still, it’s low enough that there don’t seem to be bats hanging about, so we can release the butterflies here. With that, I am swept up into shopping for wedding baubles. When we return to the inn, we are all exhausted. Ina’s commissioned dresses for each of my ladies. The jewelers have been given fabric samples and sketches to create some jewelry for each of us. The florists are busy planning the garlands and bouquets.

  The artists are busy painting and blowing glass. The bakers and other food merchants are busy preparing for the wedding feast. The musicians are composing, and the rest of us are ready to collapse.

  Kenric looks at us and laughs, “Duchess Ina ran you ragged again.”

  I flop into a chair, “I don’t know how she does it. She’s even hired calligraphers to write out all our invitations. It seems that Oskar is indeed considering this a state occasion, as I advised. Today has been a whirlwind of making selections and moving quickly. I’ve even been to a fitting with Jagger for my dress. Did you get your measurements taken?”

  Kenric nods, “Yes, but he was very tight-lipped about what you ordered for me.”

  I smirk, “Well, one thing went according to plan, at least.”

  Kenric laughs again and calls for Rekke to bring tea and refreshments.

  Rekke bustles out, grinning as always, “Planning a regular wedding is always exhausting. I can’t imagine how exhausting a state wedding is.”

  We are plied with tea and some small cakes. Finally, we tromp upstairs to change. When no one can see us, we all prefer more comfortable clothes. We return for dinner, sans the corsets, and lounge about.

  Someone drags out a trivia game, which I’m terrible at, since I know almost nothing about Centis. We sit around playing. I resort to making the most outlandish guesses to everyone’s amusement, but I have learned quite a bit about my new home. Rekke and Doustan serve dinner, and we’re off to bed. Days pass in a whirlwind of wedding planning, with visits from Kenric at night. Each night, after everyone is asleep, I hear someone sneaking down the hallway. I wait, and when my door opens, it’s Kenric. I heave a sigh and sheathe the dagger.

  Despite all assurances to the contrary, I always check to be sure it’s Kenric. A quick flick of my wrist and we’re in our own bubble. This night is different. Kenric grabs a sash and blindfolds me. “What is this?”

  I ask.

  I can hear the smirk in his voice, “A bit of a game to keep things interesting.”

  I laugh. “You know that I could hunt you by smell alone. Your blindfold won’t block my vision if I shift fully.”

  He chuckles softly in my ear. “I am aware, my treasure, but this might be one of our last nights together for a while. We move back to the palace tomorrow.”

  “So soon?”

  I hear his throaty growl in my other ear. “I need to make sure that you’ve worked out all your frustrations.” “I have been mentally preparing myself for this barbaric ritual. I’m still not sure that I’m ready.”

  His hands pause for a moment, and he sighs. “I swear that I will make it up to you, Víl?. I will keep you in bed for another week.” “Is it really necessary to fly the pad off our balcony?”

  I ask. “It’s customary, and if we don’t, there will be rumors. The kind of rumors that will leave you vulnerable to some of the more predatory lords.”

  I make a mental note to get a paintbrush or two from the artists' guild because I’m not leaving that much of my blood where someone else can get a hold of it. There are too many uses for that in spells. A few are beneficial spells, but most of them are not. I won’t risk it. One of the castle’s cats is going to be very unhappy. Anyone thinking of using that to ensnare me is going to be equally disappointed. Melina sent her brother’s actress friend to the store that Arthion, my fake duenna, suggested for the items she recommended.

  The items have been delivered to me, having been purchased as “stage props” for some production of The Merchant’s Wife. Kenric and I have rehearsed this a few times. We both know our parts. I’ve also been sent tickets to the play because it’s about a woman who tricks a wealthy merchant into believing she's far less experienced than she actually is. I’ve passed the tickets along since it doesn’t seem to be an appropriate excursion for a sheltered princess. One of the easiest ways to avoid becoming prey is not to act like prey.

  Did you like the tacky temple or hate it? Let me know in the comments...