Cythera and Sandry burst into Alanna's room, trilling delightedly, "Wake up!"

Alanna sat up groggily, running a rand through her mussed hair. "What's happening?" She asked vaguely, staring around herself as if she had never seen her rooms before. Sandry twitched a hand; the curtains flew open.

"You have to meet Madame Marillia today, Aly!" said Cythera happily. "You did agree."

Alanna groaned. She had absolutely no idea who this person was. She had agreed to a lot of things over the last few days.  

"You do remember, Aly." Sandry said confidently. "She's the wedding planner."

"WHAT?" gasped Alanna, throwing back the covers and jumping out of bed. "When exactly did I agree to this?"

"Lunchtime two days ago, in the rose garden." Cythera said promptly. "I've been keeping track."

Alanna shook her head despairingly. "Have you dragged Gary into this too?"

"Of course." Sandry said, calmly. "He needs to decide what colours he wants for the groom's side."

The Lioness stalked over to her wardrobe and threw open the doors. "Is there any point in arguing with you?" She wanted to know.

"Of course not. Which dress do you want? We're in a hurry."

Aly selected a forest green one with a square neck, her favourite style; also completely coincidentally the one that happened to be at the front of the cupboard. Shutting her eyes, Sandry made a complex movement with her hands; Alanna's nightdress slithered off and was replaced by the petticoats and gown she had selected, and her hair untangled itself and slipped into elegant loose waves. Alana turned round and grinned.

"I am never going to get used to that."

"You're not supposed to." Putting her head on one side, Sandry straightened the gown out with a few final touches. "Now come on. The others are waiting for us."

'The others', Alanna discovered when she arrived at the small conference camber Sandry lead her to, meant Tris, Daja, Lark, Rosethorn, Gary, Jon, Raoul, Numair, Niko, and the Queen. Alanna went decidedly red.

A tall, rather skinny woman in a simple grey gown clapped her hands together delightedly. "Ah, the bride-to-be!" Sandry pushed Alanna forward firmly to a chair at the fore of the room. The copper-haired hostage looked around and met Gary's eye; they shared an exasperated look. Madame Marillia took a chair at the very front, facing the others, who were arranged in a semicircle.

"So," She began, "Let us start at the beginning. My Lady of Trebond, your dress will of course be white?"

Sandry nodded encouragingly. Alanna gulped.

"Yes…"

Half an hour later, Alanna had completely got the hang of it. She was holding forth in a debate with several of the others about the bridesmaid's posies.

"Look," She said firmly, "There is no way tulips are going to go with the dresses, simply no way… It has to be lilies. And roses for the Maid of Honour, that's you, Cyth…"

Suddenly Niko put in, "Interesting though this is, I for one am going to have to get back to work."

Alanna glanced up at the clock, and a hand flew to her mouth. "Oh! We need to get changed for the picnic!"

At this reminder of the afternoon's entertainment, the meeting swiftly dispersed. In less then a minute, the room was empty of everyone except Alanna and Gary. Rather shyly, Alanna began…

"Gary..."

"Yes?"

Well, here goes. "You're not… Regretting this, are you? Because, you know, you night still be able to back out. I mean, you gave me a chance but I never thought to ask you, and I just wondered if…" She was babbling. Gary laid a hand on her shoulder, and she closed her mouth abruptly, blushing.

"Aly," He said tentatively, "I promise you, I don't regret this. I mean, I'm ready to go on with this. That is, if you want to…"

"Oh no, I just thought you might…" She trailed off, giving him a beautiful smile, full of relief. He looked at her with a matching smile, then reached up wit his spare hand and brushed back a stray lock of hair from her face. Her lashes swept down modestly, then raised themselves again. The movement had brought them closer together, and suddenly Gary was intensely aware of body, and the smell of roses lingering around her. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, he moved his head down to meet her rising face and planted a kiss on her deliciously soft lips. Pulling back reluctantly, he watched her face like a hawk to see if there was any trace of regret.

There wasn't. He kissed her again, and when he drew back, he could see in her eyes the fire he knew must be living in his own. It took every ounce of will he had to gently let go of her hand, to relinquish her with a loving smile and a kiss on the hand. She left the room ahead of him, but as she passed through the doorway, he caught her by the waist and spun her round. Drawing her close, he murmured in her ear, "No regrets, Aly?"

He didn't need her verbal answer; her eyes told him everything he needed to know, but he savoured it anyway.

"Never, Gary." She smiled again, that big, beautiful smile, and pulled him down again for one final kiss. Then she pulled away from his grasp, and with a delicate, almost tender laugh, she danced away down the corridors.

Gary remained where he was, smiling dreamily at the wall.