Chapter 18 Future Chaos #2
Mother delivers me to the altar with a grip that says don’t screw this up and a look that says I’m proud of you, and then she steps back and I’m standing in front of the man I’m about to marry.
“Hi,” I breathe.
“Hello.” His voice is rough. Through the bond, I feel him fighting for composure. “You look—”
“Like someone who might actually belong at a fancy ceremony?”
“Like everything I never knew I wanted.” He says it simply, without artifice, and my heart cracks open a little more.
The officiant—some Valorian elder who traveled with his family, all ceremonial robes and stern disapproval—begins speaking. Ancient words in High Valorian, formal and binding and utterly meaningless to me.
But when Rynn speaks his vows, looking into my eyes like we’re the only two people in the universe—
“I bind my house to yours, my blood to yours.” His voice rings through the hall, and I feel every word through the bond like a physical touch. “From this day until stars grow cold. My strength is your shelter. My heart is your home. Where you walk, I follow. Where you stand, I stand beside you.”
He lifts my hands, presses his lips to my knuckles.
“This I swear, before gods and stars and the witnesses of both our worlds. You are my mate. My choice. My future.”
I am not going to cry. I’m not going to cry in front of his entire snooty family—
The officiant turns to me, and I realize with a jolt that it’s my turn.
I wrote my own vows. Mother tried to get me to use the traditional human ones, but they felt wrong. Too formal. Too much like someone else’s words.
I take a breath.
“I’m not great at formal,” I start, and somewhere behind me, I hear Suki snort. “So here’s what I know.”
I meet Rynn’s eyes. Hold them.
“You’re stubborn. And noble. And you can’t cook.”
Scattered laughter from the OOPS side. Lady Valorian looks like she’s swallowed a lemon.
“You almost got me killed about seventeen times. I counted.”
Rynn’s lips twitch. Through the bond: it was eighteen, actually.
“And I’d do every single one of them again.”
The laughter dies. The hall goes still.
“Because somewhere between the explosions and the pirates and that time you literally set water on fire—” More laughter, quickly stifled. “—I found home.”
I squeeze his hands.
“You’re my home, Rynn Valorian. Not the fancy house or the High House name or any of the stuff that’s supposed to matter.” My voice cracks, just a little. “Just you. The man who burns too hot and holds too tight and looks at me like I’m worth something.”
His eyes are bright. Gods, I’m going to make him cry in front of his parents.
“So I’m keeping you. Whether your family likes it or not. Whether the universe likes it or not.” I grin, and it feels like a challenge and a promise. “You’re stuck with me now, Lord Chaos. Hope you’re ready.”
The officiant, looking slightly scandalized, clears his throat and moves to the final portion of the ceremony.
“Clasp hands,” he intones. “And let the bond be witnessed.”
We clasp hands.
And the world ignites.
I’ve felt the bond before—the warm pulse of connection, the awareness of Rynn’s emotions layered over my own. But this is something else entirely. This is a supernova. A collision of stars. Every nerve in my body lights up as the mate marks on both our throats blaze brilliant gold.
Gasps from the Valorian side. Someone drops something—a glass, maybe.
Through the bond, I feel Rynn’s wonder matching my own. Is this normal?
I have no idea. Is it supposed to feel like being struck by lightning?
I don’t think so.
The light pulses between us, visible to everyone in the hall, bright enough to cast shadows. I see Lord Valorian’s eyes go wide. See Lady Valorian’s mask crack for the first time—not with disapproval, but with something that looks almost like awe.
And then, slowly, the light fades. The marks settle back to their usual soft glow.
But something has changed. The bond feels... more. Deeper. Like roots that have finally found purchase.
“Well,” I manage. “That was dramatic.”
Rynn laughs—actually laughs, out loud, in front of everyone—and pulls me into a kiss.
The hall erupts.
The reception is going suspiciously well.
Food has been served—a bizarre fusion of Valorian delicacies and Zaterran meat-heavy dishes that somehow works.
Wine flows freely. The Valorian nobles are doing their best to look dignified while the OOPS couriers get progressively louder and the Zaterran warriors start what I can only describe as competitive toasting.
I’m starting to relax. Maybe this will actually be okay. Maybe we’ll get through the whole night without any major disasters—
“ATTENTION, HONORED GUESTS.”
The voice comes from the speakers, mechanical and familiar.
My blood runs cold.
“RUSTY HAS PREPARED ENTERTAINMENT FOR THIS MOMENTOUS OCCASION.”
“No,” I whisper.
Rynn’s hand finds mine under the table. What did you do?
I did NOTHING. This is THEM.
Rusty—the fortress’s maintenance bot who’s somehow become friends with Zip during our stay—rolls into the center of the room. Its speakers crackle.
“AS HAVE I,” Zip’s voice announces from my wrist comm, projecting to join Rusty’s. “WE HAVE COLLABORATED ON A TRADITIONAL WEDDING BALLAD.”
“It’s not traditional anything,” I hiss, but it’s too late.
Music begins. Actual music, with what sounds like synthesized instruments and a beat that is definitely not appropriate for a formal ceremony.
And then Rusty begins to sing.
“A COURIER CAME FLYING THROUGH THE STARS SO brIGHT,
WITH PINK HAIR BLAZING LIKE A BEACON IN THE NIGHT,
SHE CARRIED PRECIOUS CARGO—DIPLOMATIC, SHE WAS TOLD,
BUT THE PACKAGE CAME WITH EXTRAS THAT MADE HER BLOOD RUN BOLD!”
I put my face in my hands.
Zip’s voice joins in, harmonizing in a way that should not be possible for two AIs:
“OH, THE NOBLE LORD WAS PROPER, STIFF AS STARCHED LAPELS,
BUT UNDERNEATH THAT ARMOR, OTHER STIFFNESS DID DWELL,
HE WATCHED HER WORK THE COCKPIT WITH COMPETENCE SUPREME,
AND FOUND HIMSELF IMAGINING A VERY DIFFERENT DREAM!”
Through my fingers, I can see Lady Valorian frozen mid-sip, wine glass halfway to her lips. Her expression suggests she’s reconsidering every life choice that has led to this moment.
Both bots together now, building:
“THEY DANCED AROUND THE TENSION, PRETENDING NOT TO SEE,
THAT EVERY ‘ACCIDENTAL’ TOUCH WAS DESTINY!
HE BURNED HOTTER THAN HIS BIO-FLARE, SHE SPARKED LIKE PLASMA FIRE,
THE WHOLE SHIP NEEDED COOLING FROM THE HEAT OF THEIR DESIRE!”
“I’m going to kill them,” I say into my hands. “I’m going to disassemble them into their component parts and scatter them across the sector.”
Rynn is making a sound next to me. When I look up, I realize he’s laughing. Silently, shoulders shaking, face flushed.
They mentioned my stiffness, he sends through the bond.
They mentioned SEVERAL of your stiffnesses.
I’m never recovering from this.
Rusty, gleeful now:
“SHE CALLED HIM LORD OF CHAOS, HE CALLED HER CAPTAIN TROUBLE,
BUT WHEN THE DANGER FOUND THEM, THEY WERE STRENGTH DOUBLED!
HE MARKED HER WITH HIS CLAIMING BITE—SHE QUITE ENJOYED THE PAIN—
AND NOW THEY’RE BOUND FOREVER: BODY, SOUL, AND brAIN!”
I risk a glance around the room.
Ayla is cackling, any pretense at decorum completely abandoned. “I love them. Can I have one?”
Henrok has started thumping the table in approval, grinning broadly. “GOOD SONG. TRUE SONG.”
Suki has her face buried in his shoulder, crying with laughter.
Lord Valorian is... stoic. But his lip twitches. Just once.
Mother drains her entire glass of wine in one go.
Zip, building to the climax:
“SO RAISE YOUR GLASSES, EVERYONE, TO THE COURIER AND HER LORD,
WHO FOUND LOVE BETWEEN THE LASER FIRE AND NEARLY GETTING GORED!
MAY THEIR NIGHTS BE FULL OF ‘DIPLOMATIC NEGOTIATIONS,’
AND THEIR BOND PRODUCE ABUNDANT FUTURE GENERATIONS!”
I’m going to die. I’m going to actually die of embarrassment at my own wedding.
Both bots for the finale, harmonizing with disturbing enthusiasm:
“HERE’S TO POLLY AND HER RYNN, MATCHED BY FATE AND FIRE,
MAY HE ALWAYS MEET HER brATTY WITH APPROPRIATE DESIRE!
THE PINK SLIP’S FLYING STEADY, THE VALORIAN STAR BURNS brIGHT,
AND IF THE SHIP’S A-ROCKING—DON’T COME KNOCKING IN THE NIGHT!”
The song ends. Silence.
And then Henrok slams his fist on the table and roars with approval, and suddenly everyone is laughing and clapping and the Zaterran warriors are demanding an encore.
“I’m not paying for their repairs,” Mother announces to no one in particular, pouring herself more wine.
Rynn pulls me close, still shaking with laughter. “I think I love those bots.”
“I hate you.”
“Liar.”
He kisses my temple, and I feel his joy through the bond—uncomplicated, bright, entirely human in a way his formal family rarely allows. This chaos, this absurdity, is more us than any Valorian ceremony could ever be.
“Fine,” I mutter. “But I’m still dismantling them later.”
I escape to the balcony an hour later, needing air.
The celebration continues inside—louder now, the formal barriers finally breaking down as Valorian wine meets Zaterran enthusiasm. I can hear Ayla’s laugh rising above the noise, probably getting into trouble with one of the younger warriors.
The stars are bright here, away from station lights. I lean on the railing and breathe.
Married. I’m married. To an alien noble. With a permanent mating bond and a disapproving mother-in-law and a chaotic found family that has just serenaded us with the most inappropriate song in the history of the galaxy.
“Lady Valorian.”
I stiffen. Turn.
Lady Valorian stands in the balcony doorway, silhouetted against the light from within. Her expression is unreadable.
“Lady Valorian.” I try to match her formal tone. “I mean—that’s still you, right? I don’t actually know how the titles—”
“We are both Lady Valorian, now. Technically.” She steps onto the balcony, and the door closes behind her.
We stand in silence, and I try not to feel like prey waiting for the predator to strike.