Why, the event of the season, of course! According to those in the know, everyone who was anyone wanted an invitation. And though all who wanted to be invited were, it didn’t stop Chauncey and Talia from assigning Merle to be in charge of the guest list. Wearing a rather dapper pinstriped suit with nary a mark on it, Merle stood in front of a grove of trees, demanding that everyone in line be prepared to show their invite, and that he would not be accepting bribes if said invite had been forgotten.
Arthur heard this as he approached arm in arm with Zoe. As Merle ushered the last of their guests through the trees, Arthur cleared his throat.
Merle started to turn, saying, “Yeah, yeah, you will wait your turn just like … Mr. Parnassus! Zoe! Look at the pair of you. You sure clean up nice.”
They had. Zoe wore a smart tailored suit the color of red wine, the coat hanging off her shoulders. The hem of her slacks rose halfway up her calves, her feet bare. In her Afro, white gardenias fresh from Talia’s garden. She had forgone the crown, saying it didn’t matter in the slightest, at least not for today.
The suit selected for Arthur fit like a dream. While he might not have chosen this particular color for himself, the pale pink slacks and coat hugged his frame as if made for him. Rather than appearing like he was mostly made up of knees and knuckles, he cut an imposing figure; Zoe said he was dashing, and immaculately so. The white button-up dress shirt had nary a wrinkle, but it was his socks that really made the outfit. As per his usual, his slacks were a tad too short, revealing gray socks—a gift from Phee—that had lifelike representations of Arthur and Linus, their foreheads pressed together. He was inordinately pleased with the socks and couldn’t wait to show them to everyone whether they asked after them or not.
“You do as well,” Arthur said.
Merle looked down at his own suit. “This old thing? Fits better than I remember. Last time I wore it, it was for a funeral that had no food. You’re having food, right?”
“We are,” Zoe assured him. “It seemed rude to invite people and not feed them.”
Merle nodded. “Good. Now, Mr. Parnassus, you probably don’t need advice from anyone, seeing as how you’re … you. But! I know a thing or three about love and want to offer you some advice.”
“I’d be delighted to hear whatever wisdom you wish to impart,” Arthur said.
Merle lifted his hand and began to tick off his fingers. “Don’t lie. Don’t cheat. Don’t steal.”
They waited for the rest.
Merle said, “And that’s it.”
“How on earth are you still single?” Zoe asked.
Merle sniffed. “I have the sea. Don’t need more than that.”
“I will not lie, cheat, or steal,” Arthur said. “You have my word.”
“Fine, fine,” Merle said. “But listen to me, jabbering on as if you didn’t have somewhere to be. Don’t worry about the guests. Ferry’s ready to go when you want to kick everyone out.”
“Thank you, Merle,” Arthur said.
“Can you give us a moment?” Zoe asked him. “Please let them know we’ll be in momentarily.”
Merle nodded and spun on his heel, pushing through the hanging tree limbs that kept them from seeing down to the beach. Beyond the trees, Arthur could hear the excited chatter of a large crowd waiting for them to begin.
“Are you ready?” Zoe asked him.
Arthur didn’t hesitate. He knew. “It’s taking everything I have not to run to him.”
She reached up and touched his cheek. “If only the boy you were could see you now. What would he think, I wonder?”
He turned his face and kissed her fingers. “That love and fire are one and the same.”
When Arthur stepped through the trees, he froze, heart lodged firmly in his throat. It wasn’t the King singing, like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be. It wasn’t the soft breeze ruffling the petals of the thousands of flowers that decorated the backs of chairs, the trees, the ground. It wasn’t the backdrop of the sea, or the cloudless sky that seemed to stretch on forever. It wasn’t the salt in the air, the call of the seabirds from high above.
It was the people. More than five hundred in total, a mixture of magical and not. And as if they had practiced, the moment Arthur and Zoe appeared, they stood as one, turning toward them.
The mud representatives—Janet, Barry, and Turnip—had snapdragons growing from their heads and shoulders. As Arthur and Zoe nodded at them, Janet blew her nose into a pile of moss, Barry’s arm around her shoulders, Turnip beaming at them as part of his chest sloughed onto the ground.
Merle stood with Martin Smythe, who apparently found the imminent proceedings so moving, he sobbed into Merle’s shoulder, much to the ferryman’s dismay. Even then, Merle did little to shove Martin away, grumbling under his breath as he rolled his eyes.
Byron and Jason—having arrived the night before, immediately tackled by David—stood holding hands.
Others, too, so many others, all dressed to the nines. The people from the village. People who could do things that defied imagination and those who believed there was magic in the ordinary. Parents. Grandparents. Aunts and uncles. Cousins, friends, guardians, protectors. While some were crying—it was a wedding, after all—most were smiling, nodding as Arthur and Zoe passed.
And that was to say nothing of the children.
All the children, of course: most looked a little bored, tugging on the clothes of the adults around them, whispering as they asked how much longer this was going to last, and if it was almost time for cake. Many of the kids sighed dreamily as Arthur and Zoe made their way down the petal-covered aisle toward seven children in particular.
To the left of the wooden lattice archway stood Phee and Sal, Theodore sitting on Sal’s shoulder, a crown of daisies sitting askew on his head. Phee and Sal wore matching outfits—similar to Arthur’s, a pale pink with navy blue ties cinched tightly at their throats. Sal’s had polka dots on it, like buttons.
To the right of the archway, Lucy, Chauncey, and Talia. Lucy’s suit was in contrast to Sal and Phee’s, navy blue with a pink tie. Chauncey wore his bellhop cap, wrapped in pink carnations. Talia was dressed head to toe in her finest Gnomish wear: her black boots gleaming, her blue trousers firmly pressed, her pink vest buttoned up the front, and on her head, her cap, the top tilted slightly to the left.
Underneath the archway, David, standing with Helen at a podium. He looked as dashing as he ever had, his black tuxedo fitted perfectly to his hairy frame, the hair on his face hanging in thin beaded braids woven by Byron and Sal. Helen wore her finest overalls, complete with the brand-new boots that Talia had demanded she order. Sitting on the podium, tail twitching dangerously, Calliope, wearing a lacy yellow collar (courtesy of Sal) and a bored expression, as was her right.
Arthur saw them all.
He saved the best for last.
Linus Allen Baker stood at the front, thinning hair windswept, and he’d missed a button on his coat. Arthur had never seen a more handsome man in his life. Linus’s suit fit his roundness perfectly, and though Arthur wanted desperately for Linus to give him a little spin so he could take it all in, he managed to keep that thought to himself.
Because Linus was not wringing his hands. He did not appear nervous. As far as Arthur could tell, he did not say “oh dear” even once as they approached. Instead, Linus was smiling, a soft, gentle thing, a single tear falling from his right eye onto his cheek. He did not reach up to wipe it away.
It hit Arthur then, in this moment: everything he’d done, everything he’d lived for, fought for, all the sleepless nights and miles on the road, the good, the bad, and the ugly, all of it had led to this.
