Lords of Trillium by Hilary Wagner Page B

she replied. “It’s who he is. I’ve never known him to look another way. I want the same uncle who rescued me from the Catacombs to be at my wedding.” She giggled. “Not some dapper imposter.”
    â€œVery well,” said Mother Gallo, throwing her paws in the air. “It’s your wedding, and if you want to be given away by this grimy excuse for a rat, then so be it.” She straightened the collar of Juniper’s cloak. “I suppose it will have to do.” Try as she might, she couldn’t help but smile. “He’s still quite handsome, this one, muck and all.”
    â€œI’ll take that as a compliment,” said Juniper with a wink.“Now then, I’m off to petrify the groom about the many pitfalls of matrimony, starting with his lovely wife harping on his appearance for the rest of his pitiful life.”
    â€œOh you,” said Mother Gallo, swatting his arm.
    Juniper looked around at the frenzied activity. “I daresay you’ll have no objection to one less rat in the house.”
    â€œGoodness no,” said Mother Gallo as Julius and Texi whizzed by her, “and please, take the boys with you.” Nomi squealed as Tuk and Hob snatched at her tail. “It’s absolute madness in here!”
    â€œIt
is
madness,” agreed Clover as she took in the chaos, thinking back to her many silent, solitary days trapped in the Catacombs, “but the very best kind.”
    The carts and vendors of Nightshade’s city square had vanished, and in their place were long vines interwoven with honeysuckle and purple saxifrage, hanging from the grand rotunda. The white and purple flowers thrived in Trillium’s chilly climate, and Mother Gallo thought they were a perfect testament to Vincent and Clover’s endurance through the many trials of their young lives.
    Nightshade citizens had funneled in from the corridors, each resident gasping at the transformed city square, a hanging forest of white and purple, its sweet perfume winding through the ordinarily musty underground city.
    Vincent sat next to his brother on the steps leading up to the makeshift altar. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” he said to Victor, furrowing his brow. “I think we should have waited. The Hunter rats are still missing, and here we are having a wedding,
my
wedding. Somehow it gives me an ill feeling I can’t seem to shake.”
    â€œCheer up,” said Victor sharply. “For Saints’ sake, it’s your
wedding
day. The citizens
need
a distraction, and so do you. You’ve always been a worrywart, you know.” Vincent opened his mouth to reply. “And before you say it, I realize you’ve had your reasons to be worried. You had to raise me, for one.
    â€œWhat I’m trying to say is you
deserve
a little happiness. For once in your life it’s all right to be selfish, brother. No one will fault you for it. You’ve
earned
it.”
    â€œFor the record, I’m
not
a worrywart”—Vincent playfully punched Victor’s shoulder—“but you
are
a good brother. You’re relentlessly annoying, but you’re a good brother all the same.”
    â€œPractically the whole city’s here,” said Victor. The front rows had filled up with close friends, family, and the Council. He saw Hob, Mother Gallo’s youngest, sitting next to Kar. Kar looked around the room as though trying to spot someone. Victor’s forehead wrinkled. “Speaking of good brothers, where are Suttor and Duncan? Kar’s looking a little lost, sitting there next to two empty chairs.”
    Using two upside-down buckets and a small wooden crate, Suttor and Duncan had set up a makeshift table and chairs in the prison corridor.
    Even with some of the prisoners commenting and complaining in the background, Duncan felt at ease. He had Elvi to thank for that. She’d released him from his fear and made him realize just how