Page 57 of Every Eligible Man

In a ceremony that my royal advisors have described as "unprecedented," "possibly illegal," and "a diplomatic nightmare that will echo through generations."

I've never been happier.

The Great Hall has been transformed into something that can only be described as "barn-explosion meets brothel." This is intentional. I gave the decorators one instruction: "Make it look like my life now."

They delivered.

Hay bales wrapped in crimson velvet line the aisle. Wildflowers burst from buckets that definitely started life as feeding troughs. The altar is a massive oak table, sturdy, reinforced, selected specifically because I intend to consummate this marriage on it the moment the ceremony ends.

My dress is white. Technically. It's also slit up to my hip, cut down to my navel, and designed with "quick removal" as a key feature. The seamstress wept when I gave her the specifications.

Worth it.

Mira stands beside me in the bridal chamber, helping with the final adjustments. She's sober for the first time in days, a true sacrifice for the occasion.

"You look beautiful, my lady."

"I look like I'm about to get railed at my own wedding."

"Those two things aren't mutually exclusive."

I grin at her in the mirror. She grins back. We've been through a lot together in the past week. Ferret attacks. Cock inspections. A thirty-seven-orgasm carriage ride that neither of us will ever fully recover from.

She's more than earned her raise.

A trumpet sounds from the Great Hall. The ceremony is about to begin.

"Ready?" Mira asks.

I take a deep breath. Think about the three men waiting for me at that altar. Think about everything we've done together and everything we're going to do.

"I've been ready since the moment they walked into my ballroom."

The wedding party is... unconventional.

The rats are ring bearers.

Squeak, Nibbles, and Twitch waddle down the aisle in tiny bow ties, each carrying a ring on a miniature velvet pillow. The congregation watches in stunned silence as three rodents march in perfect formation toward the altar.

"Left, left, left right left," Squeak commands under his breath.

"I feel magnificent," Nibbles whispers.

"Everyone's looking at us," Twitch says. "This is our moment. Our moment."

They reach the altar and arrange themselves in a row, tiny chests puffed with pride.

I'm going to give them cheese. So much cheese. All the cheese in the kingdom.

Next comes Bastard.

The goose has been designated "flower bird" because "flower girl" didn't quite capture his essence. He waddles down the aisle with a basket of rose petals strapped to his back, honking imperiously and scattering petals with each step.

The nobility leans away as he passes.

Smart.

Bastard reaches the altar, surveys the crowd with obvious disdain, and takes his position beside Slade. His work here isn't done. I've given him a very special job for later, but for now, he contents himself with guarding the roses.