Glancing at her hand, Sophia sighed. “Oh, good, you’re not already married.”
“I can’t marry him.” She pointed at Evan. “I don’t know him.”
Evan nodded. “A traditionalist. I approve. But let me give you the quick lowdown. I’m a Taurus. I loathe long walks on the beach, sand always gets everywhere. My dragon’s name is Coral and she won’t like you—she doesn’t like anyone. Well, except me and not all the time. I have a cyborg dog name NO10JO. He has to sleep in the bed, there’s no negotiations on that one, sweetheart.”
“I’m not sleeping in your bed,” Dr. Freud stated.
“Of course not,” Sophia assured. “I’d never expect you to do something so horrible.”
“Hey now!” Evan complained. “This marriage thing is an honor.”
“It’s a technicality,” Sophia corrected, and glanced at the doctor. “You can’t enter Roya Lane unless you’re married to someone from a magical race and unfortunately, Evan is the best I can do. But after you help Subner, then we’ll annul the marriage and it will be like it never happened.”
“Why didn’t you spell me to marry him?” Dr. Freud asked.
Sophia nodded. This one was a critical thinker. “It wouldn’t have worked. The marriage has to be entered into by both parties willingly, otherwise you can’t enter Roya Lane. So if you’re willing, then I can perform the ceremony here and we can be on our way. I don’t want to take up any more of your time than we have to, especially after asking you to do something so awful.”
“I’m standing right here!” Evan protested.
“You can perform the ceremony?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, I got ordained online right before this in preparation,” Sophia stated.
Evan shook his head. “The modern world has abolished all that is holy.”
“Oh, because you had strong feelings on this subject before, huh?” Sophia asked.
“I’m technically Catholic and should be married in a church by a—”
“A wedding and a funeral today,” Sophia interrupted, pretending to be cheery. “What a momentous occasion.”
“Fine,” Evan acquiesced. “I’ll get married in a psychiatrist office to a woman I hardly know, but this isn’t exactly how I saw this day going.”
“But you saw it going this way?” Sophia questioned.
“Well, I try and keep an open mind about these things,” he spat.
Their banter seemed to be making Dr. Freud more comfortable, to Sophia’s relief. She smiled at her. “So, what do you think? Can you please help us?”
Dr. Freud seemed to consider her options and then nodded. “Okay, well, this seems like a very worthy cause and it’s not every day that I’m asked to help an important magical figure. I’ll do it!”
“Good choice,” Evan stated. “I’ll make you the happiest wife for like a whole hour or two. Then I’m kicking you to the curb, darling. This man can’t be tied down.”
Sophia gave the doctor a bland look. “I know, you’re shocked that he’s still single, right?”
Chapter Fifty-One
“Oh, good she didn’t combust!” Evan exclaimed when Doctor Tiffannee Freud stepped through the portal onto Roya Lane.
She halted and gave Evan a horrified expression. “Was that the risk is if it didn’t work?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think a mortal has survived it to tell the tale, so we have no clue.”
This did little to make Dr. Freud appear at ease. Apparently she wasn’t counting herself lucky that the whole thing worked and she was a rare mortal who got to stride down the magical road, lined with one-of-a-kind shops and filled with various magical races.
“I was confident there wouldn’t be any issues.” Sophia gave her a comforting smile.
The ceremony had taken less than a few minutes, no thanks to Evan wanting to recite his own vows which he obviously had written beforehand. They didn’t relate to the psychiatrist at all since they often included phrases like brown or blonde hair or insert description here. Still, Sophia’s online ordained status appeared to work and the two were in fact married. Evan had wanted to delay, saying that it wouldn’t be real unless they had a quick honeymoon, but when it appeared to be a tossup over who would put him in a headlock first, Sophia or Tiffannee, he let the whole thing go.
The mortal was understandably overwhelmed when she strode down Roya Lane. It didn’t help that the magical road seemed busier than usual, probably due to a crazy autumn sale that was going on across most of the shops.
The Rose Apothecary was having a buy-one-get-one-free sale on cauldrons, and Crying Cat Bakery was apparently giving away free samples.
“I want one!” Evan stated.
“Nothing in that store is free,” Sophia warned. “It always comes with a price, whether you realize it or not.”
“But we need a wedding cake,” he argued.
“You need a padded cell,” Sophia replied.
“I can arrange that,” Dr. Freud nodded at the notion.
Sophia flashed her a smile, seeing that she was more at ease and joking about her new husband.
“It’s this way.” Sophia led them toward the Fantastical Armory. Once inside, they found Papa Creola and Subner standing in the middle of the shop, no doubt waiting on them.
“You’re late,” Papa Creola said in a punishing tone, his arms crossed on his chest and a scowl on his face.
Sophia glanced sideways at Evan. “I think we should have stopped off at the bakery at this point since I’m in trouble for an appointment time I didn’t know about.”
Evan strode past her and over to a case full of knives and axes. “Our tardiness is all Pink Princess’s fault. She was lollygagging when I was trying to get the job that you assigned us done.”
“The more you live, the less you die,” Subner said in a mechanical voice.
“Oh, so he’s moved onto Janis Joplin lines?”
“Yes, after he said every single one of Bob Marley’s and ran out,” Papa Creola droned on, his patience obviously at its lowest. “And I know that you all are late because of you, Evan.”
“Hey, when in Louisiana one needs to get a beignet,” Evan complained.
“Lead a life of greatness,” Subner quoted.
“That’s what I’m saying, my man!” Evan cheered, then leaned closer to the case and studied the various weapons. “How am I supposed to do that without stuffing a beignet in my face?”
“Sophia was under strict orders to be as efficient as possible—making quick work of her time,” Papa Creola told Evan.
“I get it, but when in Rome… And we did what you asked.” He held his arm out, presenting Dr. Tiffannee Freud.
“He gets that you weren’t in Rome, right?” Papa Creola asked Sophia.
“I’m not certain he knows what year it is,” Sophia joked.
“Why should I hold back now and sound mediocre just so I can sound mediocre twenty years from now?” Subner asked, a sincerely curious expression on his face like he was expecting one of them to answer him.