breathed Rilla, “no wonder Elliot fell for you.” “The feelings are mutual I can assure you,” Zilla responded with a self-conscious laugh as she looked at herself in the mirror, twisting this way and that, making sure her dress was exactly right. The two sisters were alone. Zilla’s lady-in-waiting, had gone to quell what could only be described as a minor riot in the room where the bridesmaids were getting ready. Rilla and Zilla could hear her scolding voice. “The white is perfect,” added Rilla, “and these riverseed pearls. They must be worth a small fortune.” “They are. I’ve been told that it’s the first time a royal bride had worn anything other than purple but it’s what I wanted and Elliot backed me up.” The white silk dress was an exquisite creation. The lace veil was also white, thin and delicate, unadorned and fixed to Zilla’s blond curls with pearl-studded pins. Zilla had refused the wear the traditional (ugly) tiara. She had also insisted that instead of carrying to the altar the jewel encrusted missal, also traditional, that she walk down the aisle with a bouquet of winter flowers.
