Artemis wasn't sure how, but his mother had not only booked out every notable bridal boutique in Ireland for private use with no employees present so that Holly could browse with ease, but she'd also acquired permission for her and Juliet to go to Haven for shopping there. Angeline Fowl could achieve anything when she set her mind to it. It was lucky for everyone that she had no evil ambitions.
Artemis paced the whole day they were away. He worried needlessly over Holly being spotted above ground. He worried, rather more understandably, over his mother and Juliet wreaking havoc and mayhem below ground. And, lastly, he worried for Holly's nerves. She was not cut out for wedding planning or anything adjacent to it. She'd been pulling her hair out, proverbially, of course—she didn't have long enough hair to get such a grip on—after one hour with Angeline.
Holly would have to weather an entire day flouncing about bridal boutiques with his mother and Juliet, the only topic of the day being weddings. Angeline would prattle happily about the details of the dresses, how each fabric, color, cut, and lace trim would fit into the grander scheme of the wedding, what satin versus chiffon said about a bride, and much more. Artemis could only imagine what Holly was being subjected to. Juliet, at least, would provide some relief. She and Holly would talk on the practicality of each dress: how easily one could fight in any given gown; the best way to rip it down to a more functional length; whether any part of it could be weaponized. Regular, properly feminine things of the sort. The idea of the scandalized faces of the Haven shop assistants was enough to make him smile.
It was nearly 10 PM when Angeline and Juliet returned. Over twelve hours since their departure this morning. Angeline only floated past Artemis with a kiss to his cheek before retiring upstairs to bed. Artemis turned to Juliet.
"Your wife was fine," Juliet rolled her eyes. "We returned her home in one piece. Cute place you've got down there, by the way."
"She didn't—," Artemis was unsure how to ask what he wanted to know, had spoken before formulating a satisfactory question. Juliet smirked.
"Have a mental breakdown and burn all the pretty little dress shops in Haven to the ground?"
"Something like that."
"Well, she didn't. It was only the one shop. And Binky Von Shmiggimbottoms was asking for it."
"You're joking." Please let her be joking.
"Yeah," Juliet grinned at Artemis's palpable relief. "But it was a close thing. That dunderhead wouldn't let us in his stupid shop because he's a racist." Artemis frowned. It was an unpleasant thing to hear, even when Juliet reported back comments or treatments she'd received at the hands of humans. To be told that The People would bar Juliet from an establishment was unsettling, to say the least.
"Surely you're mistaken, Juliet," Artemis said hesitantly. "Our prejudices can't mean anything to the fairies."
"Not racist about me," Juliet snorted loudly. "Racist about you. So, in a way, about me too. But not because of the Asian thing. Because of the human thing. They're rather nasty about humans, aren't they? Old Binky didn't approve of interspecies marriages, but not in a fun, chummy way like Mulch. In a 'gather your fairy pitchforks and burn the filthy human' way."
"I wouldn't call that racism, precisely," Artemis said, relieved to hear this. "That's just how fairy folk are. And can you blame them? Humans have done nothing to earn their respect. Furthermore, I have certainly done plenty to earn their hatred." He was sure that he had been half the problem to Binky, even more so than his species as human.
"Frick that. You've saved their arses tons. Anyway, racism is racism and I've seen enough of it to spot it a mile off. Fairies don't get a get out of jail free card on that, Arty. No one does, no matter how we've treated each other in the past."
Artemis might have argued further, but he supposed that, technically, she might be right about this.
"That aside, you and Mother behaved?" He asked.
"We were on our very best behavior, as instructed. Haven's cool. Real short," she pinched her fingers together to demonstrate the vertical constraints of the city, "but I liked it."
"I'm rather fond of it myself."
"I can tell."
"And Holly was…okay? You're sure?"
"Didn't love the shopping and all the dresses dear Mrs. Fowl made her try on, but she was surprisingly pleasant most the time about tolerating it. She's not patient about frills and the like, though, so she did get crabby. That was a time, but your mum got her calmed and sorted. Magic, that woman is." She frowned. "Figuratively, unless there's something you lot haven't told me."
"She does work wonders when emotions are running high."
"Yeah. Good thing she was there for Binky because Holly was mad. I wasn't kidding, that girl was about ready to throw down with the fancy prick for talking—," a quick glance around for the twins, "shit on you."
"Was she really?" The thought amused Artemis. Holly fighting to protect his honor.
"You better believe it. She'd have knocked that guy into next week if Mrs. Fowl hadn't been there to talk her down."
"How lucky for Binky. That can't possibly be his name, can it?"
"How would I know?" Juliet shrugged. "He didn't give it to us. But Binky DeShnottsy fits him, trust me." Artemis didn't point out that his name had changed since she'd last said it. She knew, no doubt, and was just having fun.
"And how was your search?" He asked. "Were you successful?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Have it your way," Artemis sighed, tired by the importance put into the dress and its secrecy from him. "But tell me one thing, please."
"I might. What do you want to know?"
"Will Holly be subjected to another hunt of this magnitude?"
"Nah, I don't think so." She yawned hugely then, and her posture shifted to one of a person about to leave. "Go to bed, Artemis, you've been up too late waiting for us to report back to you about a dress."
"I'm not one of your charges, nor am I anything resembling a child."
"You weren't any of those things a couple years ago, either, but it never stopped me before and it won't stop me now."
"A point well made," Artemis smiled. "Good night, then, Juliet."
"Night night, little man."
"Juliet says you tried to set fire to an establishment to protect my good name," Artemis said first thing upon his next night in Haven. Holly snorted, reminding Artemis very much of Juliet's snort nights before.
"What good name? And fires are a disaster down here. I might have punched that sprite around a bit, but he was asking for it." It was little wonder she and Juliet got on so well.
"My knight in shining armor."
"What if I want to be a prince charming, instead?"
"I suppose you could be, if you so pleased. But knights generally get to hit people more."
"You're right. Knight it is, then. You know me so well."
"Better than I know myself." He got a curiously soft look from her over that, but she turned away before he could properly analyze it. He thought she might be pleased, though. "Juliet and Mother will tell me nothing of the dress. Did you find one?"
"I'm not supposed to tell you either."
"Very well, but I had to try."
"Why?" Holly laughed, turning slightly from her paperwork to shoot him a bemused look. "What does my wedding dress matter to you?"
"I'm curious. One of my many vices."
"You'll see it eventually, just wait for the big day." Her pencil stopped scratching a near minute later. Artemis hadn't corrected her. He should have corrected her. It would have been the proper thing to do in this situation. The normal response. A light jab poking fun at her for forgetting that, in actuality, Artemis would never see the dress. There would be no wedding to wear it to. But he hadn't. Had let the timing slip by as he held to that sentence, tried to keep himself from analyzing it. She'd forgotten, if only for a minute, that there was to be no wedding, no grand love story, no big day, between them. It might mean that—no, he told himself firmly, it means nothing and you do yourself and Holly a disservice by clinging to this childish fantasy. But it was too late now to recover and make light of Holly's mistake.
Artemis hardly breathed, waiting for Holly to laugh it off or, perhaps, flush brightly and stumble over words as she tried to take it back. She did neither of these things. Her pencil hovered over her page, unsure. Her shoulders bunched in tension. Her breathing was as shallow as Artemis's. Still, she said nothing. A moment passed like this. Then another. And another. Finally, her pencil resumed its scratching against paper, her breathing evened out, and her shoulders relaxed. Nothing more was said between them until much later in the evening. Almost, the whole thing could have been forgotten, lost in the endless moments they now shared. But Artemis couldn't forget it. Couldn't help but dwell on her scratching pencil in lieu of correction or admission that she'd misspoken.