As they entered the Grand Ballroom Eleanor wondered how the magicians came up with new decorative enchantments. In keeping with the Waning Fest theme the entire room had been winterized. Fat snowflakes swirled above their heads as if a blizzard were brewing against the ceiling. Icicles hung from the chandeliers, and ice sculptures dotted the room and danced in time to the music. Huge pine trees, which only grew in the farthest north past the Dragon Mines, towered over the dance floor. They glistened with snow. A treat for the guests, as it never snowed in Maliana. Of course, the magicians produced a snowstorm yet maintained the temperature of a summer morning.
Gregory and Eleanor made the rounds, saying hello and accepting congratulations. Brian, Raoul, and Gregory’s other friends avoided her, and as well they should. She was feeling fine, however, and so she released those fish from the hook. She walked into the middle of their little cluster, and offered hugs and kisses. She chided them for being hung-over at her wedding, and made each one promise a dance to make it up to her. They all blushed and apologized and swore to spin her around until she fainted. When she took her leave she knew her point was taken.
Brian Smithwick said it best. “You are too gracious, Your Highness.”
“Oh, don’t I know it, Brian,” she said.
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