Rory sneezed.

The reverberating echo of the small noise drew the attention of her Aunt’s new handmaiden, Zara. Zara glared at little Rory, leaning over and cuffing her on the ear, managing to keep her nose in the air the entire time. Aurora would have been impressed by the handmaiden’s flawlessly snooty expression, if she had not been busy rubbing her stinging ear. Anyone would think it would be snobby Princess Zara getting married to the king today, not Rory’s Aunt Leah.

Rory sniffed, trying to clear the pollen from her nose. The pink and white roses she was holding were stinging her eyes and scraping the back of her throat. She wiggled, trying to hold back another sneeze. This earned her another cuff. At this rate, Rory would be walking down the aisle with no ears.

“Are we ready to start?” asked Rory’s Aunt. Leah had just entered the church foyer where Rory and the bridesmaids were waiting for the ceremony to start. Zara immediately flew to her new mistress’ side, fluffing up her excessive veil and praising her dutifully. Leah waved the fussing maid aside impatiently and repeated her question.

She looks like a cake, thought Rory as the adults talked. Aunt Leah was dressed in a truly enormous white dress with pale pink trimmings. The huge skirt trembled and rustled with every movement, threatening to set off earthquakes with every step. Every inch of taffeta was beaded or braided or bedazzled until the shining, frosted monstrosity could have passed for a star with its own gravitational pull.

Beneath all the glitter and gauzy fabrics was her Aunt’s familiar heart shaped face, beaming with delight. Rory’s heart gave a painful little shudder. Leah looked exactly like her mother when she smiled. The sisters could have passed as twins if Rory’s mother were still alive.

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Leah walked towards her little niece who waited, forgotten in the corner. She kneeled as best she could in her hooped skirt, brushing a blonde curl out of her eyes as she did.

“Do remember what to do?” Leah asked.

“Walk slowly, throw the flowers, try not to hit anyone,” recited Rory immediately. Leah smiled and tucked a little blonde tuff back into Rory’s bun.

“That’s right, sweetie.” The girl looked so much like her mother. Every time she looked at Rory, the girl’s round blue eyes and pert little nose resembled her sister Rose’s more and more. She had died almost a year ago, but the small family was still reeling from the devastating loss of her and her husband, Stephan.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart. Your mother would have loved to see you so dressed up.” Rory had been stuffed into a frothy pink thing that resembled Leah’s dress too much for Rory to consider it beautiful. All morning she’d been scrubbed, pinched, poked and told that ‘yes, you absolutely need to wear shoes’ by Leah’s handmaidens.

Rory was exhausted.

Music started and Rory was ushered to the front of the line by the entrance to the church proper. Two footmen dragged the doors open to reveal an unending alise, bordered with row upon row of nobility, dressed in their colourful finery. Every eye was on her.

Rory glanced at her small basket of roses and then up at the too long walkway, stretching into the distance.

There was no way she had enough flowers for that entire walk.