The Man of My Nightmares.
"I am so sorry about this, Miss Filia," Amelia confessed in a shrill whisper too quiet for even the guests seated at the nearby table to hear, let alone anyone else in the crowded ballroom.
Filia smiled fixedly, aware that every guest in the room had their eyes on the princess. It was all so bizarre. Here was Amelia on her big day—wearing a dress that probably cost more than Filia's house—all grace and royal dignity; here she was, the absolute apple of the eye of Seyruun's celebrating residents; here she was, finally married to Zelgadis after much feet-dragging and excuses on his part. This was the happiest day of her life. And yet, she felt the need to deliver a sincere apology for making the kind of hard decisions that any reception planner must inevitably make.
Filia glanced from Amelia to Zelgadis, dressed up in his military best and with a thin, ceremonial sword tucked at his side, so unlike his usual broadsword. He was letting A