Chapter Thirty-Two
The mists parted, and the Faery Queen drifted across the river toward them. “Welcome, friends, and well done! We will celebrate the end of the Red Wizard’s reign. Have you the amulet?”
“I have, but what—” Amsonia stopped. Qavox was approaching Gaethryn, bowing his great head at her feet.
“I repent for my arrogant youth, the harm I did your people. If you deem me worthy, o Queen, I beg you to reverse what you set in motion those long centuries ago.”
“Qavox, you are indeed worthy! Your love is your redemption. I have been but waiting to hear you say those words. Amsonia, the amulet . . .”
—The Dragon and the Blue Star by Analise Crewe
Ana watched the familiar landscape roll by, thinking how dear it all seemed to her now. A few weeks ago it had seemed strange, a world not entirely belonging to her, but now she watched for every milestone that brought her closer to the castle.
Dex sat with an arm flung protectively around her. He’d insisted that going back to Drakefell would help ease her mind, since she’d be with Tessie, and among her familiar possessions, and the Clovercote manuscript that she’d left unfinished.
Now, she was glad she’d agreed. After days of doing nothing but sleep, and cry, and sleep some more, her eyes craved greenery and sunshine. That tree—that meant they were a quarter hour away. The low stone fence—ten minutes to go.
Just outside the tree-shaded drive, Dex slipped something out of his pocket and brought it to her eyes. She felt the cool silk of a handkerchief as he placed it around her head and turned her face blindly toward him.
“What’s this?”
“I want this to be a surprise.”
When the carriage rolled to a stop, he lifted her down gently, strong hands encircling her waist.
“What’s that heavenly smell?” Her nose wrinkled appreciatively beneath the blindfold.
“You should ask me what it isn’t, first.”
“You’re being very enigmatic. Very well—what isn’t that heavenly smell?”
“It isn’t smoke from a backed-up chimney.”
“I should say not! It smells more like . . . cake! A delicious cake.”
“Do you remember our wedding, Ana? The smoke that made our eyes water, the mind-numbingly boring address of the curate, the interminable documents to sign . . .”
She shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”
“It’s a day best forgotten. And I aim to drive it from your memory. No peeking, please,” he said, as he tucked her arm under his and began walking.
“I was tempted! But I decided not to.”
“Good girl.”
“We’re not going into the house?”
“Not yet. Come, down this pathway.”
She had no idea where he was taking her, the pleasant sun shining on her upturned face and the sway of their bodies moving in tandem were hypnotizing.
She guessed they were somewhere near the gardens, moving along the cobblestone path that led to the chapel.
He walked her up one step, then another, and cooler air washed over her.
Dex’s knuckles lightly rested on the nape of her sensitive neck as he undid the blindfold and slid it off. She blinked, letting her eyes adjust.
They were in the chapel.
And it was full of people. Friends. She saw Thea, and Lulu.
Celestia and Rupert: Rupert crying without shame, Celestia nodding serenely.
Cloris, Agnes, McArdle, even Lady Glynis, all standing as one, turning toward her with smiles full of love and approval.
They were bathed in beautiful light from the arched stained-glass window of the apse, emerald green, ruby red, cerulean blue, and a gentle gold turning them into enchanted creatures from one of her stories.
A string quartet, somewhere to the side, began to play. Softly. Something by Haydn, a gentle swell of joyful notes.
Rose petals covered the aisle between the rows of chairs.
“I . . . what . . . Dex! Please, explain to me what I’m seeing? Did I fall asleep in the carriage, and this is all a dream?”
“No,” laughed Dex. “You are very much awake.” She turned to look at him, just as he sank to one knee, his hand outstretched to clasp her own.
“If you can love this wounded, scarred man, then anything is possible. Any dream can come true. Ana, I lay my armor at your feet. You have utterly conquered the dragon in me. You’ve driven the nightmares away and filled my heart with hope. With love.”
“Dex.” She began to cry softly.
“I want nothing more than to make you happy. Your smile is the only reward I require in life. I can’t explain how you unknotted the scars, how you found the last slim remaining pathway to my heart.
I don’t need to understand it. I only need to know, do you still feel the same way? Is it too late? Can you still love me?”
She was dimly aware of the crowd holding a collective breath.
“I never stopped loving you, Dex.”
Audible sighs from their audience. A smattering of applause.
“Then Analise, before this gathered congregation of friends and family, will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”
“We’re already married, Dex,” she responded with a tremulous laugh.
“Then will you do me the honor of allowing me to re-create our wedding in a manner more befitting a clever, imaginative, inquisitive, passionate whirlwind of a redheaded hellion?”
“That might be the longest rambling sentence I’ve ever heard you speak.”
“There’s more where that came from. Though this floor is damnably hard.”
“Yes. Oh Dex, yes.” Tears filled her eyes. He’d done all of this for her.
“Well, then.” Dex leapt to his feet. “Let’s let that good news tide us all over for a bit while Cloris and Agnes dress you!”
Through a veil of happy tears, she saw the two maids approaching and let them sweep her quickly into the house. She started toward the stairs.
“No, Your Grace! We don’t have time,” said Cloris, pulling her toward the drawing room.
“Yes, Your Grace! We mustn’t keep them waiting,” said Agnes, agreeably.
Ana followed them in, and saw, lying on the divan, the dress to put an end to all other dresses—lashes of delicate lace at the hem, intricately embroidered roses dotting the mesh overlay, a delicate underdress of fine champagne-colored silk.
It was the Clovercote costume, pulled from the pages and brought to glorious life.
She clapped her hands at the sight of it.
“No time for a rose petal bath,” said Cloris.
“No time to tame those curls,” Agnes said.
“But he likes her untamed, now, doesn’t he?” They winked at each other.
Ana allowed them to quickly undress and redress her in the finery.
The whole thing felt like a dream. The best kind of dream you can possibly have, thought Ana, as she glided back to the chapel, a dream she never had to wake from.
Tessie met her at the door and placed a wreath of blushing roses on her head. She was crying softly, with a beatific grin.
“When did all of this happen?” Ana whispered quickly to her friend.
“His Grace sent us very clear instructions, from the rose petals to the dress. You should see the cake!”
And see the cake she did, once the dream of a wedding was over, and the dream of a party commenced.
Once she’d been clasped to the bosom of old friends and new and made to feel as welcome as any orphan had ever felt in any setting, ever.
Her new family, her new life. Her new husband, sending her looks of adoration that took her breath away.
The cake was, itself, equally breathtaking. She’d never seen a cake like it, although she’d described its every tier in her novel. Frosted within an inch of its sure-to-be-short life, stuffed full of frangipane, studded with sugared fruits of all kinds, and reaching to the heavens.
And on the tiny tier at the top, a miniature candy princess, standing side by side with a miniature candy dragon, its tail wound protectively around the princess’s sugar skirts.
“I took a liberty,” Dex said apologetically, as she stared in wonder at the cake. “It isn’t authentic to Lady Claridge’s intent—I hope you don’t mind?”
“Mind?” his newly remarried bride laughed into his ear, grabbing him in a ferocious hug. “It’s brilliant! Such an imagination, my love. Clovercote meets Vyranthrall. I couldn’t be happier.”
He laughed with her, and they served the perfect cake to everyone assembled.
Later, when the guests had been shown to their rooms, slightly inebriated and picking candied fruit out of their teeth, Dex and Ana were finally alone.
“Are you happy?” Dex asked his bride.
Wavering firelight caught in her hair and played over her curves. “I am,” she said simply.
“You’re too beautiful,” he said worshipfully, drinking in the sight of her.
“So are you,” she answered, her gaze raking him, lingering on his scars, his chest, and then resting on the visible bulge in his wedding trousers. “Dangerously so. Stop talking and kiss me now.”
He laughed. “I never thought I’d hear you say those words.” He kissed her, pouring his love and gratitude into the dance of their lips, their tongues.
“Now, here are the rules,” she said, pulling back, a wicked light flickering in her eyes.
“You will take me now, and we’ll stare into each other’s eyes, and I’ll wrap my arms around your neck, and my ankles around your hips and we’ll ride together until we’re both flying high above the earth, until we’re ‘thrilling to the glittering stars above.’”
He smiled, recognizing the passage from her book. “I’m yours to command, Ana.”
“Good duke,” she said playfully, reaching for his scarred cheek with a touch so whisper-soft that he didn’t even flinch.
“You’ve given me a reason to live, Ana. I understand now that life can hold both darkness and light.
That day and night can exist together inside my heart.
That I can feel the pain simultaneously with the love.
You are a fierce and strong warrior princess.
I will become worthy of your love, I swear it to you. ”
“You are worthy, Dex.”
“I don’t need my legacy to be reparations for that evil day on the battlefield. I want my legacy to be that I loved you. That’s the legacy I want carved on my headstone. That he loved faithfully, and fiercely. That he was felled by a redheaded hellion and he never recovered his footing.”
She laughed, and he laughed along with her. Even if it was a bit rusty, that laugh, it spoke volumes. And then they weren’t laughing any longer. They were kissing.
Discarding clothing at breakneck pace. Wild for the feel of her skin on his skin. Soft strands of her hair flung across his chest. There was no longer any need for rules. Everything was allowed. Every sigh, every moan, rang with love. Every kiss held untapped depths of emotion.
She climbed on top of him and eased her body down, down, until he was buried in her wet heat, like returning home after a long war, where he belonged.
She rode him with intense concentration, learning how to make him gasp with a clench of her thighs, the brush of her fingers through his chest hair.
Her eyes had gone smoky and languid.
The love in their depths shook him to the core.
She rode him until they were flying . . . reaching for those stars she’d written about so eloquently, swallowing them whole.
Several hours later, after an exhausted sleep, Dex woke in the middle of the night to find that they were sleeping entwined on his bed, her head on his chest, his arms around her and his leg stretched across her thighs.
This was a new kind of contentment. A hard-won joy claiming victory over the darkness. He folded Ana closer against his chest.
“I love you, Dex,” she whispered, still half-asleep. “My fire-breathing dragon.”
“I love you, Ana. My brave princess, the star that guides me. Slayer of darkness. Bringer of joy.”
“I knew you had a poetic soul all along.”
“You bring it out in me.”
“I’ll keep challenging you, Dex, for the rest of our lives. The battle’s not over just yet.” She nestled in closer, rubbing her cheek against his chest.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he breathed into her hair, feeling his whole being relax into hers. “The rest of our lives . . . what a magical thought.”