Leo groaned audibly, tipping his head back to face the ceiling.
"Without delay? But husband! We're not talking about the marriage of some minor princeling. We're talking about the future King of Islia!" Queen Celia wailed, her face both angry and panicked. "How will we ever be able to organise a suitably grand event?"
"A simple ceremony will do, won't it?" The king flicked a dismissive hand. "I doubt the bride and groom care much. It's not exactly a love match, is it?"
"No!" bellowed his wife, temper finally getting the better of her. "I won't have some insignificant little ceremony rushed through! My son will be married with all the pomp and ceremony that everyone expects. Not just our subjects but also the foreign courts! We can't have other countries doubting the wealth and might of Islia, can we?"
King Edward snorted. "And how long do you expect all that to take to arrange?"
"Perhaps by the end of winter-"