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Mika — not in the eyes, of course, because he'd left down one of his shields so he could use mindspeech, and it might be possible for the dragon to enspell him. Probably not, but why take chances?

    It took a moment to gather his thoughts sufficiently for coherent mindspeech.

    Some wedding dresses have a ceremonial aspect — a veil that is moved aside to symbolize the baring of the bride to her groom, for example. Or the color white, which in western tradition symbolizes purity or virginity. The chief function of Cynna's wedding dress, however, is to celebrate her beauty and sexuality.

    You are wearing white, the dragon observed. You are neither pure nor virginal.

    Does the color have another meaning?

    Figuring out what he should wear had been tricky. Cynna hadn't cared, but he did. A tux would look ridiculous in this setting and a suit would feel fake, pretending to a respectability he had no interest in claiming. Yet jeans were out, too. Jeans would say this day was nothing out of the ordinary.

    In the end, he'd decided to wear simple drawstring trousers in white linen. No shirt. " White is also the color of endings and beginnings. I'm doing both today.”

    “That you are,” Rule murmured, “yet I feel I’ m coming in at the end of the conversation.”

    He'd spoken aloud, dammit. How embarrassing. Embarrassment annoyed Cullen. " I was talking to Mika.”

    “Ah. Is he impatient, also?”

    “Dragons are too damned Zen for impatience. It's. . . ” His attention drifted to the path that led to the parking lot. A few guests had been late to arrive, it seemed — three men, all in suits though the invitation specified casual wear. Must be people Cynna worked with.

    Hey, wait. Cullen frowned. Wasn't that Asshole Number Two? “Cynna didn’t invite him,” he said definitely.

    “Who?”

    “The one in the bad suit and green tie. He . . . “Cullen's voice trailed off as he noticed what the man — what was his name? Baxter ? — was saying about Cynna.

    “Cullen.”Rule made hi s name a warning. Obviously he'd heard the asshole, too.

    “I’ll be right back,” Cullen said, delighted to have something to do.

    The ladies room at Rock Creek Park in Washington, DC might not be the glam setting some women lusted after for the final primp session on their wedding day, but Cynna had no complaints. It was clean, wasn't it? Mostly clean, anyway. The lighting sucked, but she wasn't planning to wear makeup, so that didn't matter.

    Quickly Cynna tugged off her t- shirt, then stepped out of her shoes. " How's our time?”

    “You’ re fine,” Lily said, bending to pick up clothes as fast as Cynna discarded them. Naturally she folded them. Lily did stuff like that. " They aren't going to start without you.”

    A grin slapped itself across Cynna's face. “Guess they won’ t.”

    She'd been grinning all morning. And rushing. Crazy at it seemed, she was in a hurry to get herself married to Cullen Seabourne. Most of her haste was due to sheer, bubbling happiness. Not all.

    “Uh . . . ”

    “What?” Cynna took a bath mat out of her tote and spread it on the floor. She dug into her tote again, this time for the vial of sea water.

    “I hadn’t realized the spell turned you blond elsewhere. It didn't affect your eyelashes and eyebrows.”

    Cynna glanced down. " Weird, isn't it? I haven't gotten used to being blond down there. Looks like dandelion fluff , huh? But the contrast with the tattoos is kind of cool.”

    Before leaving Edge, she and Cullen had been visited by the Rohen liege. There were complicated political reasons that Theil couldn't reward them for their part in saving her world — at least, that's what Cullen said. Cynna didn't get human politics, much less the sidhe version, so she took his word for it. Still, Theil had found a way to express her appreciation. It was sidhe custom to gift expectant mothers, and tradition called for two presents — one magical and one physical.

    As a result