CHAPTER 27
The preparations for Fae’s wedding flew by.
I spent the morning so occupied by setting out chairs and helping decorate the dining hall of the spa that I hardly thought of the wraith.
Imprisoned in the sigil and a warded shed, it no longer posed as much of a threat as my mum, who’d been on a rampage since the florist told her the peonies had to be replaced with dahlias on account of the former having had a rough growing season.
When it came time for the ceremony, I waited near the entrance to the pavilion set up in the spa’s gardens alongside Amelia and the other members of the bridal party.
I could hear the trickling water of the spring, which set me on edge.
Kessian had been tasked with helping Fae get ready, so I hadn’t seen him all morning.
My breath caught when he finally appeared.
In the bustle of the morning, I hadn’t given thought to what he’d look like dressed up for the occasion.
The cream of his suit complemented his hair, tying in with the blues in the pattern of the waistcoat.
He wore it so much better than me, with his cane’s frost pattern like lace and the gold chain threaded into his plait catching the light.
A sheen of powder on his cheeks brought out the shine of his freckles.
In the changing room, I hadn’t the time to properly appreciate how gorgeous he was. He spotted me, beamed, and walked over.
“Looking very sharp,” he said.
“I—er—thanks. You, er—”
He had me completely tongue-tied.
“Please tell me the cane doesn’t make me look like a pimp,” he said.
“If it did, I could be your whore,” I blurted.
Kessian’s jaw dropped. “I’m so glad Fae decided not to get married in a church if you’re gonna talk like that.”
“Sorry. Seriously, you look—” I cleared my throat. “Right. I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.”
Kessian didn’t reply as we took our places in the bridal party queues.
We’d never really finished our conversation before the wraith interrupted, and the muddy valley between friends and almost-lovers awkwardly hung over us.
I’d compliment a friend and have a laugh with them, but perhaps offering to be his whore was a step too far.
The harpist struck up a chord, and the wedding guests went quiet. One by one, we filed down the aisle. I tried not to power-walk my way to the front, relieved to take my seat and join everyone else in craning our necks.
Camilla came first, wearing a modest lace gown with a long train and crystal teardrops dripping from her veil. Fae followed.
I’d already seen their dress at the fitting yesterday, but with the harpist’s plucked chords and the hushed atmosphere, it struck me how much time had passed, and how little it seemed to matter now, because I couldn’t have been happier to see them happy.
I didn’t know whether their favorite food had changed from mint chocolate chip ice cream to something else.
I didn’t know if someone else had broken their heart before Camilla came along.
When I’d first arrived back in Shearwater, they’d asked me if I even wanted to stay, and I’d said yes, but had so many reservations, because was I returning to the same place, the same people? Everyone had changed and grown.
I hadn’t stopped loving them, though, and if I stayed there’d be time to find out about favorite foods and past flames.
I supposed I did want to stay.
Maybe, if everything worked out, I could.
By the time Fae made it to the podium, tears streamed down Camilla’s face.
Fae had come prepared and pulled tissues from the pockets of their skirt.
When it came time to exchange vows, Fae’s came in the form of a stack of cards thick as a dictionary and secured with an elastic band.
They looked askance at the guests and said, “Don’t worry.
I won’t read them all,” and everyone laughed.
“This is how many attempts it took for me to write my vows. I wanted them to be perfect. Because you’re perfect. ”
Which set Camilla off crying again.
She started her own vows with, “I knew I’d be emotional marrying the love of my life, but at this point I think we’ll all agree I ought to have been sedated.”
They were funny, and earnest, and madly in love.
It made my heart squeeze painfully. I’d never been to a queer wedding before, and I hadn’t expected it to be any different, but it was as if they gave me permission to want this for myself one day.
I’d grown so used to the idea it could never happen, that it was only a possibility for people who didn’t live life on the run.
As they sealed their vows with a kiss, the warm weight of Kessian’s arm pressed into mine, and I allowed myself one more ridiculous, far-fetched delusion.
In it, I’d get up early to make him tea the way he liked it.
I’d take it to him in bed, where he’d be stealing a few more minutes to doze.
Lunaris would soak up the sun streaming in through the window, just a calico cat no longer burdened with being my home and my only friend.
Kessian would wake, and maybe the tea would go cold as we got lost in each other, or maybe we’d just cuddle and talk about the day ahead.
The first time we talk about marriage it would be a joke about eloping to a beach where we’d write our vows in the sand, commit them to the sea while getting drunk on margaritas, but neither of us would be joking. Not really.
I want to find something with just a shred of plausible permanency. And I can’t ask that of you after a week, and you can’t promise it to me, either.
The wedding ceremony was beautiful, but it wasn’t the only reason I had to hold back tears.
In the intervening hours between canapes and photography sessions, I mingled with the other guests and ate an embarrassing number of smoked salmon blinis.
Marlowe found me plucking a champagne flute off a tray and said, “First or second?”
Third. “What’s a wedding without a few refreshments?”
He nodded his agreement. From the ruddy flush of his cheeks, he’d had a few himself. “No leads yet on that lost contract?”
“It would be convenient if someone gave it to Fae as a wedding gift.”
“Wouldn’t it just?”
“We’ll figure it out … The wraith’s been connected to me so long, and now Kessian’s the Keeper, maybe all the pieces are finally coming together.”
Marlowe’s expression crumpled. “Hold on, now. Kessian’s the Keeper?”
“Yeah. Sorry, I thought we’d said.”
Marlowe had such a mild-mannered attitude, his sudden intensity threw me off. “That’s … odd.”
“Why?”
“It normally passes down through families. I wondered why your mum and I never felt anything different. I guessed maybe it went to you.” He shook his head, expression pitying.
“It drove your grandad half mad trying to find a solution to your problem. I wouldn’t wish that on Kessian. It shouldn’t be his burden.”
“Why do you think it should be ours?”
Before he could answer, Amelia grasped my elbow. “Have you seen Kessian lately?”
“No, what’s wrong?”
“I was going to say a little toast to you both for saving me, but I can’t find him.”
Fear swallowed me. My first thought was the wraith. I’d checked it this morning, still sealed within the sigil and a warded shed with no sign of either spell weakening.
I was being paranoid. No one would be mad enough to risk freeing it. I’d check the bathrooms first. Maybe Kessian was having an outfit malfunction.
In the loo, I tentatively called out his name.
An even more tentative “Tal?” answered.
I followed it to a shut stall. “Amelia’s looking for you.”
“I, er …” A deep sigh. “My hand’s locked up. Waiting for the painkillers to kick in.”
“Can I come in?”
The door clicked open and I closed it behind me. Kessian sat on the lid of the toilet, massaging his wrist.
“I guess I’m not used to walking with a cane. Maybe I’m not doing it right, putting too much pressure on it.”
“You should have told me. I think I have healing tithes that could help.”
“I don’t want to be a burden. And I’m not your responsibility. Especially after I— You should be enjoying the wedding.”
“I’d enjoy it more with you.” Remembering last night’s conversation, I reluctantly added, “As your friend?”
To my surprise, he looked disappointed. “Right. Okay. If you’re sure.”
“Give me five minutes.”
Living out of a camper van had never seemed more convenient than when it only took me two minutes to run out to the field where I’d parked her and retrieve the tithes I’d need.
On my way, out of paranoia, I checked the wraith’s shed.
It was still warded, locked, with the blue light of the sigil glowing under the door and the wraith’s low, uneven breaths.
Like it didn’t need to breathe but remembered living things ought to and only did so to feel normal.
I hurried back to the toilets. Kessian had managed to relocate to a bench outside them. Amelia had found him and given him a flute of sparkling wine, two more in hand.
“I know what kind of injury that is,” Amelia joked. “Don’t blame it on your cane.”
“I brought the tithes,” I said, before things devolved from wank jokes to jokes about Kessian and I, who were not engaging in those activities anymore, a fact that I was keen not to ruminate on.
I pressed the magic gently into Kessian’s hand, letting it flow up his wrist. His fingers uncurled from their stiff positions a little, brushing my palm as I drew back.
“Better?”
He flexed his hand. “Much. Still a few twinges, but I can walk from the bathroom to my seat in the dining hall.”