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"Yes, we—I performed the usual check into the chambers as requested, and we found that the place was a mess. Things thrown everywhere smashed—and no sign of the princess."
"Good. Then the plan is proceeding according to plan."
"The ... plan, sire?"
"Keep a man stationed outside her room as usual." Castor smiled. "No need to panic yet. All is well for the time being. Now, if you'll excuse me ... you interrupt me while I'm trying to greet my first wave of guests."
As he walked away from the guard, a sense of giddiness overcame Castor. It took everything not to rush up the spiral staircase and head straight to Ianora's room to put the next part of his plan into action. But there was no use rushing perfection. He trusted that Lady Mitron would do her part, and Castor could properly see to his guests, and the wedding plans.
After all, if he went off to have fun too soon, he would have to neglect his and Ianora's guests, which wouldn't do when he had promised them all the party of a lifetime. With a guest list from all the notable nobles from various realms, as well as kings, princesses, and queens from across Rainada, he couldn't do to disappoint them. For the next four days, as was the tradition in Pheazar, they would have the grandest party to celebrate the upcoming wedding.
Only it was a shame that Ianora wouldn't be around to witness it. However, some sacrifices had to be made ... and if he were lucky, she’d be more cooperative later tonight.
Soon, King Castor returned to the throne room, where he was met by the dozens of guests who came from all over the lands for the greatest party of the century. He didn't assign that title lightly in a world where vampires existed to feast and live lavishly, without restraint, but he had made every effort to live up to the name. Tonight's proceedings would only be the tip of the iceberg, and it would be a night to impress.
About two hours after receiving word of Ianora's disappearance, the audience chamber doors opened to Geordian escorting a beautiful young woman inside. She had long, golden blonde hair and a gown made of leaves and vines, glimmering with enough magic to power a kingdom.
"Announcing Princess Iffandril of Gaivalon, daughter of King Sinnegard of the fae," Geordian said.
Iffandril had several tiny fae fluttering along behind her, lifting her dress for her as she walked closer to the dais where Caster stood and went to greet her himself. She bowed low when she reached the dais. "Your Majesty. I was honored to receive an invitation to your esteemed wedding celebration."
"The honor is mine," Castor said. "Word is you seldom leave your palace to attend parties, and to find you so far away from home ... why that is an occasion worth celebrating, is it not?"
"I do find most vampire parties tedious, but Pheazar customs are a little more entertaining than most. I admit I was also intrigued by the prospect of one of the cursed kings having a wedding. I hope you do not mind me saying so."
Castor grinned, making a point to show off his pointed fangs. "Why, does my hideous appearance offend you and all the land?"
"I assure you, it takes far more than an unusual face to offend me, Your Majesty. Ugly is not the word I would use to describe you. No, unique is perhaps better. Many men are far better suited to 'hideous' than you."
"Your way with backhanded compliments is delightful, my dear." Castor caressed his cheek, where the skin had been warped by the curse. "Fortunately for me, Princess Ianora does not find my appearance displeasing either."
"How splendid. Any woman who can look past her husband’s appearance is in for a happy marriage indeed."
Castor broke out into laughter, as did the other assembled guests nearby.
"Quite so, isn't it? In any case, as brightened as the celebrations will be by your arrival, where is your father? My invitation was to you and King Sinnegard."
Iffandril bowed ever so slightly. "I must apologize on behalf of my father, who was pleased by the invitation but unable to make the journey because of a matter of intimate importance at home. He sends his regards, congratulations, and hopes that gifts aplenty will make up for his absence."
She snapped her fingers, and the tiny fae surrounding her grew ten times the size, producing several packages wrapped in leaves and shimmering flowers. They handed the gifts to the steward and Geordian, who stood nearby. The gifts were piled with the others by the steps leading to the throne, to be opened later.
Castor, already bored of Iffandril and his guests, stood from his throne. "You all must be famished," he said. "Shall I lead you to the banquet?"
He held out his arm, and Iffandril took it so that he could escort her to the first leg of the party. As they crossed through one of the halls filled with vines and roses, Iffandril's face soured into an expression of distaste.
"The roses here are strange, are they not?" she commented.
"The curse upon my castle had an unusual effect on them," Castor said evasively. "I would have thought a fae such as yourself to be pleased by the change. Do you not live in the famed Thorn Palace?"
"Yes, but it is quite a different affair from these dark, gloomy creatures." Iffandril stopped to examine one of the nearest roses, which had turned to look at her. She touched the petals, and quickly flinched away. Her fingers were crimson from the touch. "Ugh, are theybleeding?"
"Well excuse you too, lady," the flower snapped at her. "Don't need to be so rude about it. Don't you think I'm self-conscious about it enough already?"
Castor simply chuckled and continued leading her to the banquet hall, where most of the other guests were already gathered. Despite the vampiric tendency to prefer utter darkness, Castor had this room designed to fascinate his guests with displays of light. A thousand candles, torches, and orbs of magical, colorful glows hung from the ceiling, swirling in patterns that changed according to the time of day. Right now, they were a rich purple, interspaced with flickers of crimson that caught the jewels and pearls embedded in the ceiling and reflected back into the room. The trick of the light made the hall appear as though they were assembled beneath thousands of multicolored stars.
In the middle of the room was a long table, the seating arrangements prepared for the royals planning to attend the wedding. The guests chattered away, each trying to outdo the others in their elaborate outfits.
For those who preferred food, there was a luxurious meal prepared. A dozen courses, each more decadent than the last, and all served on priceless platters. The first was a roast beast, its skin golden brown, with a hearty glaze of spicy sauce, its potatoes and carrots and peas and such piled on a neat mound at its side. Atop it was a layer of light, flaky pastry, and a thick slab of purple fruit.
