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“Indeed?” He clapped again. “For truth?”
Glancing down at her, Lassiter smiled. “And I have even better news.” He looked back at the butler. “We must needs be prepared by nightfall this evening.”
There was a reverent inhale. And then tears formed in those wrinkled eyes.
Just as Rahvyn was about to protest the incredible rudeness and incomprehensibly bad manners of it all, the butler burst into a cry of triumph.
“Yes! Upon the nightfall! All shall be perfection!” He flushed with joy, as if it were his birthday and he had been presented with a wish list’s worth of gifts. “Whatever should you like to serve for your mating meal? Do you prefer beef? Chicken? A mix? Prior to that, we shall need hors d’oeuvres. A French theme perhaps? What is your color scheme, so that I may set upon gathering proper flowers, and what music do you prefer? We shall require a cake choice as well. Are you mating in the foyer? We have done that before and it is quite beautiful when the female comes down the grand staircase. Will we need garments tailored? Do you have a dress in mind? Are there jewels that require cleaning? What special guests are we including?”
The butler paused, and Rahvyn assumed it was to take a breath so that he did not require resuscitation following an event with his heart.
But no, it was worse than an emergency requiring the Brotherhood’s very competent healers: The expectant look upon that wrinkled face… suggested he actually was looking for answers.
To what some distant, stupid part of her had hoped were rhetorical inquiries.
When only silence came back at him, Fritz looked to Lassiter. Then looked to her once more. “Perhaps my lieges have not considered any of the particulars as of yet?”
The words were spoken very delicately, as if he feared they might faint—and he might join them as he clearly did not like pushing them.
Lassiter glanced at her and shrugged. And then both males seemed to be waiting for her to respond.
Clearing her throat, she said, “You are most gracious, and forgive me—us—our indecision, but given our utter unfamiliarity with events of this nature”—she looked at Lassiter, and the relief coming over him gave her the sense he understood where she was heading—“perhaps, in light of your considerable faculties and knowledge of this most beautiful home’s staffing and facilities, you would be in the best position to remove from us the burden and stress of choice?”
Rahvyn glanced at Lassiter once more, all how-did-I-fare.
As he gave her a discreet thumbs-up, the butler got teary all over again. Then he bowed so deeply, Lassiter actually reached forward, as if in concern.
“My lieges, it is the honor of my station to perform such a service for you both!” He put his hands to his face in delight as he straightened back up. “Please, permit me my departure. I must needs remove myself this very moment—there is much to do, much to do! Rest assured, it shall be the very most perfect ceremony ever—”
“Wait!” Rahvyn interjected. “Before you go—how shall we remunerate you for the costs?”
She made the inquiry because a sudden worry was going through her. She had no funds, and had never spoken to Lassiter about his financial prospects. There were always ways, of course, but—
The butler’s shock was not the good kind: He had a horrified look on his face, as if she had just set the First Family’s house on fire.
“I meant no offense,” she rushed in. “Please know—I am a stranger in your midst and it would be unforgivably rude for me to make any assumptions. My sire and mahmen raised me better than that.”
“Oh,” the butler said, clearly relieved by the explanation. “But of course. And rest assured, my master the King provides for all under his roof, whatever the occasion. So there is no cost to you as an extension of his beneficence and grace to those whom he rules and protects. Now, I must needs attend to the festivities! Blessings unto the new couple!”
At that, the butler all but skipped away.
In his wake, Lassiter turned to her. “You are a miracle worker with him. That could have gone badly.”
“I do feel a bit like I have bested a gauntlet.”
When he put his arm around her, she followed alongside him as they stepped out from behind some kind of stair—
“Dearest Virgin Scribe,” she blurted.
The splendor before her was unimaginable and her eyes bounced around the majestic foyer and the grandiose rooms she could see through archways and open doors—and then she realized something.
Turning to Lassiter, she put her hand to her temple. “I must needs stop praying to her—it is just that I feel a bit odd sending entreaties unto you.”
Lassiter’s lids lowered and he dropped his mouth to her ear. “I can think of plenty of begging you were quite happy to do earlier.”
