Chapter 145 Chirp of Approval
Bella
Damien’s hand stays wrapped around mine like he’s anchoring me to the earth on purpose. His palm is warm. Mine is… well, mine is sweating, because apparently I can stare down monsters and bargain with the devil and still get nervous about walking into a village and saying, Hi, yes, we’re getting married, like that isn’t the most unhinged thing I’ve ever done. I squeeze his hand harder when the roofs start to appear between the trees. The path widens, then softens into packed earth. Someone’s hung little lanterns along the fence line, glass glowing warm, and I feel my chest do that stupid swell thing again. Damien glances at me, and the corner of his mouth lifts.
“You look like you’re about to run,” he says.
“I look like I’m excited,” I correct.
“You’re vibrating.”
“I’m enthusiastic.”
His thumb strokes over my knuckles, slowly, and I hear the quiet laugh in his chest. Then I see Ashlyn outside one of the houses, arms full of folded fabric. She spots us the way a predator spots prey, except her prey is happiness, and she is absolutely going to tackle it. Her whole face lights up, and she flings one arm into the air.
“BELLA!” she yells, voice startling a flock of birds out of a nearby tree.
She drops the fabric and starts charging toward us with a grin so big it makes my chest ache. A couple of villagers step out to see what the shouting is about, and I feel the moment tighten like a bowstring. I lift my hand as Ashlyn reaches us, and Ashlyn skids to a stop, eyes snapping to my hand. Her smile freezes, her mouth parts, and she makes a sound that is half gasp, half strangled squeal, like the ring has yanked her soul out and she’s trying to climb back into her body.
“Oh, my gods!” she shouts, loud enough that I’m pretty sure the mountain itself flinches. “That is beautiful!”
A few heads whip around in our direction. Ashlyn grabs my wrist with both hands and drags my hand closer to her face as if she’s about to bite the ring to make sure it’s real.
“Careful,” I tell her. “I’m pretty sure if you eat it, Damien will have to duel you.”
Damien makes a low sound beside me that might be a laugh and might be a warning. Ashlyn’s eyes flick up to him, then back to me, then back to the ring, and I swear she looks like she might cry.
“You’re engaged,” she says, as if she might cry.
I lift my shoulders, trying for casual and failing, because my face feels like it’s going to split from smiling.
“I’m engaged,” I say.
Ashlyn does what Ashlyn does best. She throws herself at me. She wraps her arms around my shoulders so hard I stumble, and her laughter bursts out into the air like fireworks. I clutch her back, and the ring flashes in the corner of my vision as she bounces like she’s made of sunlight and bad decisions.
Behind her, the village is waking up. More doors open, and people step out with curiosity on their faces. A couple of dragons shift their wings and crane their necks to see what the commotion is. I spot Gilfred near the edge of the path, perched on a low fence post, his little black eyes bright and alert. He lets out a chirp that sounds, somehow, deeply judgemental and approving at the same time.
“Gilfred says congratulations,” I announce solemnly, because if I don’t translate him, who will?
Ashlyn pulls back just enough to stare at the gecko, then laughs again.
“Of course he does,” she says. “He probably thinks this means more snacks.”
“It does,” I say, and Gilfred chirps again, Correct.
Then Red appears as if the smell of life-changing news, and the faint possibility of organising something has summoned her. Her eyes are sharp, and her posture is all business, but the moment she sees my hand, she pauses, just for a heartbeat, and something soft flickers across her face. Then it’s gone, and then she’s pointing.
“How long do we have?” she asks, like I’ve just informed her there’s an incoming siege.
I blink. “How long do we have for what?”
“For the wedding,” Red says, as if the answer should be obvious, and I’m the one being unreasonable. “The planning. We need to think about the food, the guest list, the seating, the venue, and the flowers.”
Ashlyn gasps dramatically, like she’s been waiting for this exact moment her entire life.
“We are doing everything,” she declares, grabbing my other hand. “Everything. I’m talking dress, hair, candles, music, the whole kingdom knowing about it. I want people crying in the street.”
“I…” I start, because my brain is trying to catch up to the fact that I have just been conscripted into my own wedding.
Damien’s hand presses gently to the small of my back, grounding me, and I feel his warmth through the layers of my coat.
“We will do it properly,” he says, voice calm, carrying far enough that the villagers hear it. "We're engaged!" He announces loud and proud, and I know his dragon is loving the attention that we're getting right now as the crowd around us cheers.
My snowflake said yes. Of course, I am proud. He says into my mind.
A murmur runs through the crowd as excitement builds in layers. A woman steps forward from the edge of the group, her posture proud, her hair silver and braided down her back. She has that dragon-villager look of quiet power, the kind that makes you careful with your words without even knowing why. Her eyes skim over me, over Damien, then settle on the ring, and she smiles.
“I would be honoured,” she says, voice warm, “to make your dress.”
I stare at the woman, and for a second, I can’t speak, because my mind is trying to fit the idea of a wedding dress into the same life that has included running and survival. But people are smiling at me like I’m allowed to have this. So I find my voice.
“I’d…” I swallow, and I feel Damien’s thumb brush over my hip, a quiet reminder that I don’t have to hold myself up alone. “I’d love that,” I say, and my words come out soft, real, and a little stunned. The woman inclines her head, pleased, already measuring me with her eyes like she’s seeing fabric and shape and story. Red claps her hands once, briskly.
“Alright,” she says, turning as if she’s about to march into the nearest house and seize every candle in the village. “Someone get parchment. Someone get ink. Ashlyn, stop squealing and start thinking. Bella, you are coming with us.”
I let out a laugh that sounds like disbelief and joy collided and decided to live in my chest together. Damien leans down, close enough that his breath warms the shell of my ear.
“You’re smiling,” he murmurs.
“I know,” I whisper back, because it feels like a confession. “I can’t stop.”