The afternoon and evening sizzled with warmth and life.
Jax stood at the grill, focused and relaxed, moving with the confidence of someone completely in his element. The scent alone drew attention before the food even hit the plate. Thick cuts of boar steak had been slow-cooked for hours, tender to the core, then finished over open flame for that perfect char.
Plates were prepared with care. Some had sweet potatoes, caramelized slightly at the edges. Others had baked potatoes loaded with sour cream, chives, bacon, butter, and every topping that turned something simple into indulgence.
Jax kept his own simple.
Steak with herb butter.
A potato with bacon, butter, salt, and pepper.
Nothing more.
The others would joke about it.
But he always said the same thing.
"If it's done right, you don't need to hide it."
Upstairs, Zee and Nyxian were still recovering from their earlier "celebrations." What started as a conversation had… clearly escalated. By the time they finally stirred, the sun had already begun its slow descent.
They joined the others later by the pool, the day carrying on in a relaxed, carefree blur. With the staff dismissed for privacy, the manor belonged entirely to them. Laughter echoed. Water splashed. The kind of freedom that only came after surviving something heavy lingered in the air.
No bathing suits.
No robes.
Just them.
As the sun dipped lower, Jax found a quiet moment beside Zee.
"Two weeks enough time?" he asked. "Dress, planning, everything?"
Zee nodded, though there was a softness to her expression that hadn't been there before.
"There's something else," she said.
He already knew.
"Your family."
She nodded again.
"I want to find them. I don't know if they've forgiven me… but I need to try."
Jax didn't hesitate.
"Then we go. But remember… they're the ones who need forgiveness. Let's hope they've changed."
There was no fear in her now. Whatever she had once been running from, she no longer felt powerless. Not with what she had become. Not with who stood beside her.
That night came gently.
Fatigue set in from the sun, the excitement, and… earlier decisions that had clearly carried into the evening.
But going to bed didn't mean sleeping.
Not immediately.
Not for this group.
The next morning followed a now familiar pattern.
Jax woke first.
Carefully disentangled himself from the web of limbs and quiet protests, then made his way downstairs to start breakfast.
By the time the others joined him, the kitchen was already alive with the smell of fresh food.
Today was important.
Not for battle.
Not for strategy.
For something far more dangerous.
Shopping.
Wedding shopping.
Jax, wisely, excused himself.
"Good luck."
He meant it.
Lexi grinned.
"I love wedding shopping."
That should have been warning enough.
They traveled through the gates to one of the more refined cities within the United Kingdoms. This place specialized in high fashion, formal wear, and the kind of elegance Solmere was only just beginning to develop.
The shop they entered was impossible to miss.
Tall windows.
Flowing fabrics.
Displays that felt more like art than merchandise.
And at the center of it all—
Him.
Tall, slender, dressed like he had personally insulted every other designer in the world and won. Every movement deliberate. Every glance calculated.
"My dears," he said, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. "You must be the Vixens."
He bowed slightly.
"I am Veltharion Silkveil. Designer. Visionary. Artist… and, unfortunately, the only man in this city capable of saving you from yourselves."
His assistants—three sharply dressed women—stood nearby, already assessing like predators sizing up prey.
Nyxian stepped forward first.
"I want something dark. Elegant. Gothic. Maybe a little dangerous."
Veltharion froze.
Slowly turned.
Looked her up and down.
"…no."
Nyxian blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"No," he repeated. "Absolutely not. You are getting married, not attending an emo funeral for your teenage years."
Bunny burst out laughing.
Zee looked horrified.
Llandra covered her mouth.
Nyxian crossed her arms.
"I look good in dark."
Veltharion stepped closer, circling her like a critic judging a masterpiece.
"You look stunning in the dark," he said. "But today? You need to look like something the sun itself is jealous of."
He gestured vaguely at her.
"Let's discuss the obvious. That figure? Criminal. That posture? Confident. That hair? A statement."
He leaned in slightly.
"If I put you in black, I'm hiding a crime scene of perfection. I refuse."
Nyxian narrowed her eyes.
"…you're insulting me."
"I'm elevating you," he corrected immediately.
A pause.
"…I like him," Nyxian muttered.
Next came Zee.
She raised her hand slightly.
"Can we make the dress easy to remove?"
The room went silent.
Veltharion closed his eyes.
Inhaled deeply.
"…no."
Zee tilted her head.
"But—"
"No," he repeated, louder. "I am not designing a dress meant to survive less than five minutes of commitment."
One assistant turned away, shoulders shaking.
"If you want something disposable," Veltharion continued, "I suggest fruit arrangements. Possibly edible. I hear Solmere is very progressive."
Zee blinked.
"…that sounds practical."
"It sounds horrifying," he snapped.
Pixelle, seated in her tiny chair, raised her hand.
"I still think it's a good idea."
"Of course you do," one assistant muttered.
Measurements began.
Fabric was brought out.
And then—
Chaos.
"Absolutely not."
"That color will kill your skin tone."
"You cannot combine those fabrics unless your goal is public humiliation."
Every suggestion from the Vixens was met with either brutal honesty or immediate rejection.
And yet—
Every rejection came with something better.
Zee's dress became soft, radiant, flowing in a way that made her look almost ethereal.
Nyxian's struck a perfect balance—elegant, bold, just enough edge to remain unmistakably her.
Pixelle demanded something that made her look "important," and somehow Veltharion created something regal at three inches tall.
Even the bridesmaids' dresses turned into a battlefield.
"They don't need options," Veltharion snapped. "They need direction."
Two sets.
Two weddings.
Coordinated—but distinct.
Arguments.
Revisions.
Adjustments.
Until finally—
Everything aligned.
Veltharion stepped back.
Hands folded behind him, posture immaculate, expression satisfied.
"These," he said softly, "are worthy of you."
Silence.
Then—
Nyxian looked at hers.
"…okay… that's incredible."
Zee held hers close.
"It's perfect."
Bunny spun once.
"I feel like royalty."
"You are," Llandra said quietly.
The assistants nodded, now fully invested.
Measurements were finalized.
Timelines set.
"Ten days," Veltharion said. "We will close if necessary."
Fabric sourced.
Work began immediately.
As they prepared to leave, Veltharion bowed again.
"When you walk down that aisle," he said, "the world will remember it."
Nyxian smirked.
"Oh, they already will."
They stepped back into the city, laughter following them.
Two weddings.
Two very different brides.
One story about to unfold.
And somehow—
This felt more dangerous than war.