How had the last few days passed so quickly?
Derya stared out the window at the town square where the decorated stage awaited the Prince's wedding. She could not help but notice how much of that stage was wood. Wedding jitters, and unease with what might happen in just a few short hours when the festivities started, kept her restlessly pacing.
Why did it feel like only yesterday when she swayed to the melodies of the fiddle, harp, mandolin, and drums before the ancient castle in Andor's arms, before they were doing the other traditional dances that had her swinging from man to man during the many interchanges of dance partners.
For a brief few hours, it felt like she was home among all these familiar things. People laughed, even Bailey, and when Andor finally took her upon the traditional midnight walk through the gardens with the other couples following them in twos, she could almost swear she was in Arendon.