Chapter Thirty Five
Daphne
There are things I envisioned for my wedding.
No wait, that’s wrong. I didn’t envision anything other than becoming an old spinster with cats that lived in her hair and rambled nonsense at villagers for fun.
It was the best way to avoid the expectations I could never measure up to.
No one wants to even come within a foot of the old cat lady.
It was on my plan, right after sausage domination.
Looks like I managed the sausage part, but alas, the cats have been replaced with sexy knights who know how to make my floof quiver.
“Please, I beg of you, do not think about your floof quivering,” Theo rumbles.
He and Malachi are on babysitting duty, making sure the bridal maiden doesn’t fall down a well or get her foot stuck in a drawer.
“Are those possibilities?” Theo wonders.
“I hate that you have this with her,” Malachi says, crossing his arms and pouting.
I grab his shirt and yank him toward my face. “Stop this, Malachi Stirling. We all have something unique to bring to this group.”
He huffs. “Like what?”
“You are the sunshine in our souls.”
“Being happy is hardly unique.”
“You care deeply, feel deeply, and love fiercely. You see the best in everyone around you. That’s a gift.”
His face softens as Theo slips out of the chamber with a wink over his shoulder at us.
The door clicks closed, leaving the two of us alone.
Malachi’s eyes drop to my freshly stained lips.
We have maybe fifteen tempos before they send the search party.
I’m sure Theo will run a little interference as I remind this knight he is everything to me.
I tap the pommel of Excalibur dangling at his side. “You are also worthy. Not just in my eyes, but in the eyes of the realm and the forces around us.”
His gaze darkens. “That worthiness cost you your life.”
“I never said it was easily won. If it were, it wouldn’t be a test, would it?”
His fingers tuck under my chin and hold our gazes steady.
“I am still unworthy,” he utters. “I always will be, because no one deserves you.” My mouth opens to argue.
He shakes his head, cutting off my words.
“I count each and every turn that we are together as precious. That will never change. I know that deep in my soul. I also know that we are perfect for you and you for us. But sometimes I just want you to myself. To steal another of your firsts, to have something that is just ours. I thought maybe it would be your hand in marriage.”
“Have you ever had sex with a maiden moments before her wedding? Knowing it’s you making her knees wobble and that what you did to her makes her squirm? I won’t have time for a shower, so I’d still be full of you, smell of you—”
He spins me around and pushes my hands against the wall before putting his lips against my ear. “Don’t move.”
He shoves his foot between mine and nudges them wide open.
I hitch in a breath as he nips my ear before kissing his way down my throat.
There’s the sound of his belt being unbuckled and then the caress of hands under my white gown.
Because, you know, all maidens need to wear white like we’re walking around like pretty little virgins waiting to discover if our chosen one can make our floofs faint from just one touch.
His fingers graze my center, and he sucks in a breath. “You’re already wet for me?”
My fists clench against the wall, and I nod. “I need you.” I moan as he flicks over my clit, already swollen and needy. “I didn’t take you for a tease.”
He chuckles and slides my panties to the side before thrusting deep inside me. Our kisses are messy,greedy, and oh so freaking delicious. My lips won’t need extra stain, because they’ll be swollen from his attention for at least the next seven turns.
“Malachi,” I murmur into his mouth with my hands still pressed against the wall like a good girl. Strange times. “I need to come.”
“When I say so.” He groans, picking up speed.
Damn knights are going to be the death of me.
Here lies Daphne Stone—perished in her wedding gown, unvowed, but not untouched. Her floof was permanently suspended in this shape as she took her last breath while being pounded by a knight.
But what a way to go.
He pinches my clit, and my legs tremble.
“Don’t drift,” he snaps.
“I’m trying to fall, and you won’t let me,” I whine.
He snorts and unleashes himself on me. It’s hard, unforgiving, and my body isn’t sure what to make of the fine line he’s dancing me along.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He pushes one finger inside my ass and uses his hand to strum my clit with the other.
The assault on my senses is my undoing. I come with a scream, and he wraps a hand over my hip and pounds into me, making sure every single clench and vibration plays out along my nerve endings.
I come again, and he shouts his release, holding me tight against him.
The door creaks, and Theo says, “I kept them away as long as possible, but I think Hart is about to lose it if you don’t get your pretty ass up to that throne in the next two tempos.”
I lean my head against the wall. My legs are still shaking when Malachi withdraws from my body.
He slides my panties back into place and kisses the top of my head.
“It’s going to give me great pleasure to watch you saying ‘I do’ to my brother knowing it’s my cum leaking out of you.
Do not go to the toilet, or I’ll have to do this again. ”
“That’s diabolical,” I grumble.
“You started it. Can you stand?”
In theory, I have all the parts that are conducive to standing, but I think he broke them. I wiggle my toes in my boots. Yes, I’m getting married in boots and not crazy heels. The realm has enough issues without me braving lethal footwear. Plus, no one is even going to see them.
“I can stand,” I decide.
He releases me, and my knees give out. He catches me and chuckles in my ear. “I could carry you down the aisle.”
“That’s different, but no. I think. Yep, I got this.”
I give two thumbs up and hope my legs don’t let me down. Again. Because that would be embarrassing. He releases me, and I throw my arms out for balance. I wobble, but in the end, manage to conquer something toddlers manage with more grace.
My gaze catches on the smirk playing on Theo’s stupidly pretty lips. I raise my chin, drop my gown, check my boots aren’t showing, and nod. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
“You look so pretty, Daphne,” Gwyneth whispers as she pushes a flower into my wild hair that she manages to tame with two ribbons and a flick of her fingers. Oh, to be coordinated.
“This dress is stunning,” I compliment her back. She’s in a pale blue sparkling number that I think is all for Charming. He best not get any bright ideas about marriage. Not today.
She smiles down at herself before tilting her head at me. “Who’d have thought it?”
“I was just thinking that earlier. I had big plans for spinsterhood and cats.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You were never destined to be alone.”
“History says otherwise.”
She shakes her head. “So blind to the effect you have on everyone around you.”
“Says the chick who won over the floof-fondler with a wiggle of her toes.”
She pulls a face. “Less foot and floof talk.”
“Wait, is that a thing?”
“I’m sure it is somewhere, just not in my bed.”
Now I pull a face. “I cannot unsee that, just so you know. I checked with Genie, but he’s concerned a memory wipe might get rid of some important things too.”
She hands me a bouquet of wildflowers tied with an emerald-green ribbon. “Less sister sex talk and more vows.”
The doors between our quarters and the Living Library swing open, and we’re met with a sea of curious faces.
“I said low-key,” I mutter out the side of my mouth.
“This is low-key. There are no royals, courtiers, or fanfare. But you can’t escape the fact that one of the leaders of the new world is getting wed.”
“I meant just us.”
“I know. Just smile, wave, and walk in a straight line.”
She drags me forward when the music starts. “That’s like three things at the same time, which is never a good thing,” I point out. “We know this.”
“Okay, then mimic me.”
“That’s... that’s so smart.” Because technically, that’s one thing. It’s a loophole, and I’m clinging to it as we make our way down a red carpet. Where did they get this from? Which throne room is now carpetless?
“That’s it, keep going,” she murmurs. Then none of it matters, because at the top of this makeshift aisle are the four men who own my heart, looking fierce and formidable.
Gwyneth grips my arm to prevent me from running toward them. Nothing else matters. Not one thing.
Hart smiles as our eyes meet.
Safe. Loved. Home.
Gwyneth says something ceremonial to the dude holding long pieces of fabric and takes my bouquet. Hart takes my hands, and the guy wraps the material in a way that appears to be exact. There’s a chuckle around us.
Hart’s eyes dance. “It’s your turn to say your vows,” he mutters. “Just repeat after Merlin.”
I manage that, but it’s not the words that have me captivated; it’s everything not being said. The sense of wholeness and a future we are fighting for that is needed to free not just us but everyone in this room.
“Hold the cloth tight and step back,” Merlin advises.
I do as he asks. The material shifts and forms a knot in the center between Hart and me. We tied the knot. How apt. Hart comes closer and winds the fabric up before handing it to Nash, who winks at me with a dark promise in his eyes. Oh...
Can it be later already?
Heat blooms in my belly once more. I am insatiable. Clearly, I have issues.
“Now if you both kneel, I can crown you as king and queen,” Merlin says, pointing at the floor.
We do, with Hart’s hand wrapped around mine in silent reassurance.
“A reminder that coronated together makes you equal in the eyes of the kingdom. This isn’t simply a king ascending to the Arthurian throne, but a royal couple accepting their duties together in partnership. ”
“As it should be,” Hart says. “And it is as I wish.”
“And it’s how it should have always been,” the All Knowing booms.
Merlin blinks and casts his gaze around the library.
“Don’t worry. He’s one of those guests you have to invite but know he’s going to embarrass you come what may.”
“Rude, Stone Sister,” the All Knowing groans.
“Shush,” Gwyneth says.
“Very well,” Merlin utters.
Magic gathers. Not the flashy kind that explodes or dazzles, but something older and quieter that threads through the hall like breath drawn in before a storm. The air tightens, heavy with expectation, and the murmurs that had been building around us falter into silence.
A tempo passes.
Then another.
Light spills from the walls and pools at our feet before rising in slow, deliberate spirals. It wraps around Hart first, climbing his frame as if it recognizes him, as if it has been waiting for him. Gold and shadow weave together across his shoulders, and Merlin places the crown on his head.
Then, the magic turns to me. It’s colder. Sharper. It coils around my ankles and climbs, slow and certain, pressing into my skin and bones, as though it is reading me, weighing me, deciding if I am worthy or if it should cast me aside.
My spine straightens as determination not to be found lacking fills me.
The light flares, and for a heartbeat, I see everything the naked eye misses.
The threads of stories stretching in every direction, tangled and broken and bound too tightly where they should never have been bound at all.
I feel them pull, feel the weight of them press into me, a thousand endings waiting for their moment.
A thousand choices waiting to be given back.
My chest tightens, my heart stuttering when the heavy crown settles on my head. It hums, alive with a pulsating power, restless and ready.
The magic snaps into place and disperses.
The hall rushes back in, sound crashing over us like a wave as I suck in a breath that feels like my first.
“Please be upstanding for your new king and queen,” Merlin’s steady voice announces. “Daphne and Hart Stirling.”
“Stone-Stirling,” I correct.
He blinks and glances at Hart, who shrugs. “I don’t care. She’s mine, and I’m hers. Call it what you want.”
Merlin squints at me as if he’s a heartbeat away from tackling me to the ground and running off with the crown. He can have at it. It’s heavy and not something I shall be wearing on a regular basis. My neck already aches.
“Daphne Stone-Stirling, your new queen, and Hart Stirling, your new king.”
We spin to face the cheering crowd.
Gwyneth wipes a tear from her cheek and smiles. Next to her, Genie, Sir Sweep-A-Lot, and my capons are equally excited. Charming is also present but looks a bit moody about attending a double crowning that isn’t his own.
Hart’s arm wraps around my waist, and he swings me into his arms. He smirks as my boots appear from beneath my dress, but I don’t care. My attention is all for the knight with dirty promises in his eyes.
“Talk among yourselves. Dance, drink, eat, and rejoice,” he calls out.
“Isn’t that what we should be doing?” I ask.
“No, Daphne Stone-Stirling. Right now, all I want to know is why you smell like my brother and have kiss-swollen lips on your wedding day that weren’t given to you by your husband.”
Wait until he finds the damp panties…