Two weeks later...
When it came to something as monumental as my wedding, I couldn't leave any detail to chance least of all what I'd be wearing. Sure, I'd been called a lot of things in my life rebellious, impulsive, even a troublemaker but sloppy wasn't one of them.
And if I was going to marry Aeliana, the most beautiful, radiant woman in existence, I needed a suit that matched her elegance.
Which is why, with more than a little reluctance, I had enlisted Zephara's help.
"Alright, Mini-Me," Zephara announced, crossing her arms as we stood in front of a high-end demon tailor's shop.
Her white hair gleamed under the glow of the enchanted streetlights, and her crimson eyes sparkled with mischief. "Let's find you something that won't embarrass me at the wedding."
I rolled my eyes, adjusting the lapels of my coat. "You mean something that won't embarrass me. You're not the one getting married."
"True," she said, grinning, "but as your mentor, I have a reputation to uphold. If you look like a mess, people will think I trained you wrong."
"You're impossible," I muttered, but I couldn't stop the small smile tugging at my lips.
As we stepped into the shop, the smell of rich fabrics and polished wood filled the air. Rows upon rows of exquisite suits lined the walls, each one more impressive than the last.
The tailor, a sharp-eyed demon with sleek gray hair and a tape measure draped around his neck, looked up from his workbench and immediately straightened.
"Ah, Lady Zephara," he greeted with a respectful bow, his voice smooth. "And Lady Ciara. An honor to have you both here."
"Skip the flattery," Zephara said, waving her hand dismissively. "We're here for something special. My protégé is tying the knot."
The tailor's sharp eyes flicked to me, his gaze assessing. "Ah, congratulations, Lady Ciara. Let us find you something worthy of such an occasion."
I nodded, feeling a flicker of nervous excitement. This was really happening.
The tailor wasted no time, pulling out fabric swatches in a range of luxurious materials velvet, silk, brocade and draping them over his arm.
Zephara, meanwhile, was already prowling the shop like a predator, yanking suits off racks and holding them up for inspection.
"What about this one?" she asked, holding up a sleek black suit with silver embroidery.
I wrinkled my nose. "Too traditional. I want something unique."
She rolled her eyes. "You're getting married, not going to war. Unique doesn't mean you have to reinvent the wheel."
Ignoring her, I turned to the tailor. "Do you have anything in dark purple? Maybe with a modern cut but still... regal?"
The tailor's eyes lit up. "Ah, yes. I believe I have just the thing."
He disappeared into the back room, leaving me alone with Zephara, who was now inspecting a gaudy gold suit.
"If you wear that," I said, pointing at the monstrosity in her hands, "I'm banning you from the wedding."
She smirked. "Don't worry, Mini-Me. I wouldn't steal the spotlight from you."
"Stealing it isn't the problem," I muttered. "Blinding everyone is."
She chuckled, tossing the suit back onto the rack just as the tailor returned. Draped over his arm was a stunning dark purple suit with subtle black accents, the fabric shimmering faintly under the light.
"This," he said, holding it up, "is made from enchanted silk. It adjusts to the wearer's body temperature and reflects light in a way that enhances the color's depth. Perfect for someone of your stature, Lady Ciara."
I reached out, running my fingers over the fabric. It was soft, almost ethereal, and the craftsmanship was impeccable.
Zephara let out an impressed whistle. "Now *that's* a suit."
I nodded, feeling a smile tug at my lips. "Alright, let's try it."
The tailor led me to a fitting room, where I slipped into the suit with a mix of excitement and trepidation. When I stepped out, Zephara's jaw dropped slightly, and for once, she was speechless.
"Well?" I asked, doing a slow turn.
She blinked, then grinned. "Damn, Mini-Me. You clean up well."
I turned to the full-length mirror, and for a moment, I didn't recognize myself. The suit fit like a glove, hugging my frame in all the right places while still allowing for movement. The deep purple fabric gleamed subtly, the black accents adding an air of sophistication.
"This is it," I said softly, a rare moment of awe in my voice.
The tailor nodded, looking pleased. "I'll make the necessary adjustments to ensure it's perfect. But I must say, Lady Ciara, you wear it well."
Zephara clapped me on the back. "See? Told you I'd help you find the perfect suit."
"Don't take all the credit," I said, smirking.
After finalizing the details with the tailor, Zephara and I stepped back out into the bustling streets of the demon realm.
"Alright, Mini-Me," she said, stretching dramatically. "Now that you've got your suit, what's next on the wedding checklist?"
I shot her a glare. "You're not turning this into one of your projects. I've got everything under control."
"Sure you do," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "That's why you called me for help."
I groaned. "Remind me why I asked you to come again?"
"Because I'm awesome," she said with a grin.
"Debatable," I muttered, though I couldn't suppress a small smile.
As we walked back toward the castle, the reality of the day started to sink in. The suit was perfect, and with each step, I felt more prepared for the wedding.
But there was still a part of me that was nervous not about marrying Aeliana, but about making sure everything was perfect for her.
"You'll be fine," Zephara said suddenly, as if reading my mind.
I glanced at her. "What makes you so sure?"
She shrugged. "Because you're you. And because anyone who loves you enough to marry you already knows you're a mess."
"Gee, thanks," I said dryly.
She laughed, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "Relax, Mini-Me. You've got this."
And for the first time all day, I believed her.
---
Zephara insisted on lunch before we headed back, dragging me to a cozy little demon bistro tucked into a side alley. The place had a rustic charm—stone walls, wrought iron furniture, and a tantalizing aroma of roasted meats and herbs wafting through the air.
"I'm starving," she declared, flopping into a chair with her usual dramatic flair. "Being your mentor is hard work, Mini-Me."
"Hard work?" I raised an eyebrow, sliding into the chair opposite her. "All you did was criticize suits and hog the mirror."
"And yet, here we are with the perfect outfit. You're welcome." She smirked, waving over the waiter.
Lunch arrived quickly: plates piled high with grilled demon beast skewers, spiced rice, and what looked like a fiery red dipping sauce that could probably melt steel.
Zephara wasted no time digging in, but her eyes gleamed mischievously as she pointed a fork at me mid-bite.
"So," she began, mouth half-full, "let's talk about married life."
"Oh, this should be good," I said, leaning back in my chair.
She swallowed her bite and leaned forward, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Marriage, Mini-Me, is like battle. You've got strategy, surprise attacks, and the occasional retreat to avoid total annihilation."
I snorted, rolling my eyes. "That sounds *very* romantic."
"It's the truth!" she said, laughing. "One minute, everything's sunshine and kisses. The next, you're arguing about who left the toilet seat up—or, in my case, who set the kitchen on fire during a midnight snack."
"That sounds like a you problem," I shot back, smirking.
"Oh, it absolutely was. But my point is, marriage is unpredictable. You have to learn to roll with the punches." She speared another skewer, wagging it at me like a pointer.
"And if you think Aeliana will go easy on you just because you're the fiery granddaughter of Leora and Zephara, think again."
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Aeliana is nothing like you, thank the gods."
"Yet," she corrected, grinning. "Give her time. Marriage changes people."
I raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of my drink. "You sound like you're trying to scare me."
"Not scare you," she said, leaning back with a grin. "Prepare you. Marriage is beautiful and messy and chaotic, like a good fight. And let's be honest, Mini-Me, you love a challenge."
I couldn't help but smile. She wasn't wrong.
"So, what's your advice, oh wise one?" I asked, humoring her.
"Simple." She leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Never underestimate the power of snacks. Keep her favorite food around, and you'll survive any argument."
"Snacks?" I repeated, laughing. "That's your big secret?"
She shrugged, popping another skewer into her mouth. "Worked for me."
As ridiculous as it sounded, I couldn't help but file the advice away. Zephara's chaotic wisdom had a strange way of being useful when I least expected it. I think I'm ready for the wedding.