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They’ve been fussing over me since before the break of dawn. Once Duncan tried to come into the house and he is probably still regretting that. Alesoun took after him with an iron skillet and I heard him yelp while laughing.
Now that the corset is tighter than should ever be allowed it’s time to slip into the dress itself. There is no denying it’s beautiful if simple. It’s perfect to me. The long white cloth will set off my shoulders. There is a carefully embroidered pattern of flowers that adorn the breast, and the skirt section is flowing with a slit on both sides that will both allow me to walk and show my calves. As they fit it onto me, I have an awkward moment of fighting to get my boobs into it properly.
“Ach,” Alesoun says. “Is it your flow?”
“No.” I shake my head. I don’t say it, but I can’t remember when I last had it. I assumed it had stopped because of all the stress of saving the world and such.
“Yuir breasts are larger, I’d swear it by the Holy Mother,” she mutters, trying to help the cloth contain them.
It’s uncomfortable in more ways than one but at last they are contained. I don’t think I can bend over and there is no way I’m going to be able to pee, no matter if the need arises. Alesoun and my mom, whom have hit it off as if they are the oldest of friends, stand back and look me up and down with critical eyes. Mom adjusts a strand of hair while Alesoun tugs on the dress, shifting it up and down.
“Well?” I ask.
The two women shake their heads in unison, and for a second I’m sure they’re about to tell me it’s all wrong and we have to start the entire process yet again.
“Oh, Quinn,” Mom says, gasping air and waving her hand in front of her face.
“Yuir perfect,” Alesoun says, with a smile as proud as my mom’s.
I blush and bow my head. I attempt a curtsy, but the corset makes it much less deep than I would normally do. Mom hugs me and then Alesoun does too. As if on cue bagpipes play outside the house, calling us to the ceremony.
“Are you ready?” Mom asks.
I nod, not trusting my voice right now. She embraces me again, wrangles one last curl into place, then Alesoun steps forward. She has a woven crown of summer flowers featuring the soft purple of heather prominently. Heather is my favorite; I love the scent of it which is deeply associated with Scotland in my head.
I dip what little bit I can, and she places the crown on my head. I’m choked up more than ever, so I don’t speak and am doing my best to not let the emotional storm express itself with tears of joy. They’ve worked too hard to make me look good.
Mom squeezes my hand and then goes to the door. With one final glance in my direction, she opens the door and steps aside. Alesoun stands opposite her and they’re both beaming. The sun streams through the open door along with the strains of the bagpipes accented by a drum.
I take as deep a breath as I can manage and struggle with a bout of nerves. My stomach churns and I have a fluttering sensation in my chest but when I take the first step forward, it all settles. I stride through the door, and waiting on the other side is Chief Johnne.
His kilt is clean, his beard brushed, and his hair pulled back into a ponytail. He offers me his arm with a broad smile, and I take it, gratefully letting him stand in for my dad.
Bonfires burn and two entire calves are roasting in preparation for the coming dinner. The succulent smells would be enough to make my mouth water if I wasn’t still struggling with nerves.
The Clan is gathered in full. Everyone has come, even some who have traveled from neighboring villages. Drever and Gair stand front and center. Drever had been gone missing during the Battle of Inverness, but he turned up after I’d left the castle, injured but alive. He and Gair beam with joy, and I give them both a smile as I pass.
Chief Shaw stands with the boy, along with several other members of his Clan. There are two lines of Clansmen and women and I walk between them, one step at a time. Alesoun and my mom trailing behind.
Johnne walks with a solemn dignity, his head held high, and I lean into his strength. Everyone is smiling and warm. Welcoming. I will soon be a full member of the Clan, accepted without reservation.
Ahead, beneath a large tree that has beautiful green leaves that shine with all the promise of spring, awaits Duncan. He’s standing with the preacher and has the widest grin I’ve ever seen. His eyes dance with delight, never leaving me. Beside him is Aillig and, surprisingly, Dugald.
I smile seeing the three of them together and cast my eyes down as emotions cloy my throat. When I look back up, I see the end of the line. Agnes is there along with all the women who she surrounds herself with. They all have a hard look on their faces, but I can’t look away from Agnes. I watch her, nervous, expecting her to not stop me so much as to be nasty in some manner. As she comes closer, her hard eyes stare until I’m right beside her and she holds out her hand. Johnne stops our walk.
“Quinn,” Agnes says.
“Aye,” I murmur.
“Welcome to the Clan,” she says roughly with a sharp nod.
I can’t do anything but stare in wonder. I blink, replaying the moment again in my head, sure that I’ve misunderstood. Agnes gives a small, tight smile and nods, then motions I should be on with it. I’m not going to argue further but my next step is lighter.
We step out from the line of the Clansmen and women who then shift and move around so they can witness the ceremony. I dart a quick glance and I’m in for another surprise. The musicians are next to Duncan and the men’s side, but on my side, waiting to stand with me are the Fair Queen herself with Queen Mab at her side.
I stop again, staring with wide eyes. Both the Fae smile broadly and motion for me to join them. On my side there are a dozen Fae of all kinds, some mingling with the humans, others keeping to themselves as much as possible.
“Who gives this woman away?” the priest asks.
