At that moment, Kris made a quiet vow.
One day, when it was his turn, when he stood at the head of that same path, he’d make sure the woman beside him walked with that same radiant joy. That same shade of happiness.
He’d barely finished the thought when a group of burly men swept in from behind, lifted him clean off his feet, and tossed him into the air with a triumphant cheer as his friends looked on, helpless and mildly alarmed.
✦ ✦ ✦
✶✶✶
WHILE the all-you-can-eat, all-you-can-drink chaos raged on in the public part of the feast, a quieter but no less joyful celebration was unfolding in the VIP section. Sophie had originally wanted all the Olzon family sailors seated here, but they’d refused, saying they belonged with the common folk, roughing it up where they felt most at home.
Fair, Sophie thought, smiling as she remembered the drinking contests and arm-wrestling matches she’d grown up watching.
Out in the venue, Olzon cooks manned the food stations while children from the orphanage—dressed in neat little uniforms—wove between tables, carrying plates with careful hands. They’d eat later, in a special section set aside just for them, where they could sit down and truly enjoy the fruits of their work.
Now and then, a slightly dated but well-practiced clown drifted past, performing tricks with an easy rhythm that drew bursts of laughter and surprise.
At the front gate, a sleek black panther stood on silent guard, as he always did—ears pricked, gaze sharp, not missing a thing.
Even the explosively popular actor—whose tickets were hard to obtain on the best of days—had sent a pair, along with a single rose and a handwritten note of congratulations. Sophie and Kurt would go. Before the capital. Before the next chapter.
Not everyone could be here. And yet, in the food, the laughter, the watchful eyes, the letters and gifts sent from far-off places, Sophie could feel it.
There were still those who celebrated with them in spirit. Who entertained. Who protected. Who remembered.
And that, more than anything, made her heart feel full.
“Ah, that was nerve-racking,” Sophie said to the man beside her.
“Really? I couldn’t tell,” he replied.
“I could tell, though. You were perfectly fine.”
“I don’t get nervous. People are just tubes of flesh and bone. A crowd’s no different—just more tubes.”
“Charming. Really paints a picture.”
He reached out, brushing a finger just beneath her eye.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Have you been crying?”
“…A little,” she admitted. “But they weren’t sad tears.”
Her gaze dipped just slightly. He watched her carefully.
“Ms. Sophie,” he said.
“Yes?”
“You’re beautiful even as you are on most days, but this might be the prettiest I’ve ever seen you.”
“Well, I’m just flattered you can tell the difference. The usual me, this me—they’re both yours, you know?”
He nodded solemnly. “Just making sure. I wasn’t certain.”
“Prudent to a fault, aren’t you?”
Sophie laughed quietly, her gaze lingering on his before she let her eyes flutter shut.
✦ ✦ ✦
✶✶✶
“AND now, presenting the bride and groom!” Johann announced with gusto—clearly more than a few drinks in.
The curtain drew back to reveal the couple.
The VIP section fell into a stunned hush.
Then came the snorts. A few muffled giggles.
“…Kurt,” Johann finally said, voice flat.
“Yes,” replied the groom, dead serious.
“Would you mind explaining why Sophie is so desperately trying to wipe your mouth clean right now?”
“I regret to say…I forgot she was wearing lipstick today.”
“You forgetful fool!” Johann bellowed. “Honestly, the moment Sophie’s involved, you fall to pieces!”
He shouted it, but at least there was no tantrum this time. Just a dramatic sigh and the delicate, overwrought grooming of his already immaculate mustache.
“Ah, well,” he said, softening. “Not like I was any different.” He turned to Sherlotte, took her hand, and gave her a fond look.
“Get it, Sophie!” Isadora whooped from the sidelines, earning another wave of laughter.
Lily smiled gently, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, while the rest of the adults watched on, smiling indulgently.