Chapter Forty-One - Wilder
I’ve never worn a more expensive outfit in my life.
The tailored tuxedo fits perfectly, better than anything I’ve ever worn.
Each pearl button gleams in the sunlight streaming through the tall windows of the groom’s suite.
The reflection in the mirror shows someone I’m proud to recognize—polished, commanding, fit to stand beside a queen.
While I will always feel more at ease in my Blade uniform, this is a close second.
The door to my room swings open, and Jax saunters in carrying two bottles of sparkling wine. Now that the rift is closed and Fynn is safe, Jax looks more like his usual cheerful self again. I still can’t believe he’s a father, but then again, he was made for such a role.
“Who else is ready to get this party started?” he asks, uncorking the first bottle with a loud pop. He overflows the first glass, slurping the fizzy drink as it spills over the sides.
“Barbarian,” Pallas mutters, fiddling with his bow tie.
Jax is too high on life to notice or care.
The door opens again, and Desiree slips inside. She stops when she sees me, her pastel dress brighter than anything she has ever worn. Her mouth hangs open.
“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so dapper, little brother. Well done.”
Desiree crosses the room and plops down in an empty chair.
Pallas reaches for one of the sparkling wine flutes, but Jax’s attention fixes on my sister.
“Tired of the girls already, sunshine?” Jax says to her.
“Leigh finished getting dressed, so I thought I’d crash this party,” Desi says with a shrug. “And I hoped to talk to Wilder alone.” Our gazes collide. “I have something for you.”
“Give us the room, please?” I ask.
Pallas nods. Everyone, aside from Jax, leaves.
“What’s wrong?” Jax asks Desi.
She smiles. “Mind your own business. It’s twin stuff.”
Jax looks at me, and I shrug. “I’ll see you at the altar. Don’t forget the rings.”
Jax rolls his eyes as he leaves, tilting the open bottle to his lips as he goes.
“I have something for you,” Desi says.
“A wedding present?”
She shakes her head. “It’s from Mom. She thought you wouldn’t accept it if it came from her.”
I notice the white envelope in her hand for the first time. “What is it?”
“You tell me.”
I take the envelope. There’s no name or return address. Mom could have told me whatever it says herself. Using my finger, I break the seal. Inside is a piece of white paper folded in half.
With my heart in my throat, I unfold it. The handwriting—sharp letters with little spacing between words—is my dad’s. What the hell does he want?
I’m tempted to crumple the letter and pretend it never existed, but curiosity betrays me.
Dear Wilder,
If you’re reading this, it means you didn’t crumple this letter the moment you realized who it was from.
I’ll admit, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.
After everything, maybe that’s what I deserve.
I know I wasn’t the father you needed. For too long, I let my expectations and worries get in the way of simply loving you.
I wanted nothing more than for you and your sister to succeed and thrive. However, I’ve realized that my way of showing support ultimately pushed you away. I should have been honest with you, and I should have listened when you spoke.
But it always felt easier to tell you no. For you, “no” meant a dead end—a final answer. I realize now how many times I shut you out that way. And I’m sorry.
In my effort to keep you safe, I ended up making deals with the wrong people.
The Magician blackmailed me into killing the president.
Still, I have to smile because I get to look him in the eye at breakfast, knowing that my son married his niece—not just married her but helped her become queen.
You achieved Prince Gwyn Raelyn’s dream of changing the world with truth and courage.
You revealed the letters, changed the laws, and both of you stood up to centuries of tradition.
Your mom mentioned that you quit being a Blade and stepped down as commander. I commend you for that decision; I know I couldn’t balance being a good husband and a leader. We are more alike than you might want to admit.
I bet Leigh looked stunning in her wedding dress. I hope your mom brings me pictures on her next visit—unless you want to show them to me yourself.
Proud of you,
Dad
I glare at the letter, ignoring the sting in my eyes. Dad won’t get the satisfaction of claiming we are alike. I left my position as a commander to avoid becoming like him—more focused on work than my family. Now he’s twisting the story, suggesting that we are the same because I quit.
Well, screw that.
Dad has never told me he was proud of me in my life.
Not when I graduated from the Blade Academy, not when I accepted a position in Aurora, not when I helped save the Council and hundreds of innocent lives from Nyx’s bomb several years ago, and not even when I returned to Borealis after the wolves’ failed coup.
Of course, he would wait until now, when I am happiest, to worm his way back into my thoughts.
“Selfish bastard,” I mutter to myself.
I hate him. I hate that he controls my emotions so much.
I hate that Dad should be the one escorting my mom down the aisle to her seat today.
I hate that he would have loved to see how pretty my edgy sister looks in her pink bridesmaid dress.
But that’s where I come in; I get to pick up the pieces where he fell short.
I inhale deeply, stifling the sob threatening to escape.
“What does it say?” Desi asks.
“Dad thinks we are alike.”
Desi reaches for the letter. “Show me.”
I let her take it. Desi reads, while I pace before her.
“What the hell, Des? I have no idea what to think right now. Dad being nice wasn’t the final plot twist I was expecting. And screw him for approving my decision to quit the force instead of giving me reasons to stay. Who does he think he is, really?”
Desi sniffles. “Aw. That was … sweet.”
“He’s deranged—that’s the only explanation.”
Desi sets the letter on the small antique table beside her. “What are you going to do about it? Take back your old job?”
I shake my head. Soter is the commander, but maybe I’ll go back to working as a liaison or something.
Anything to avoid giving my dad the satisfaction.
I don’t have to choose between being Leigh’s husband and being a Blade.
If anything, loving her makes me a better Blade—she gives me something worth fighting for.
The door to my room creaks open, and lo and behold, Soter pokes his head into the suite. “Sorry to interrupt, but, Wilder, do you have a minute?”
I nod, eager for a distraction. Soter steps in, and I frown. My former Domna is in civilian clothes: faded jeans, a studded belt, a loose-fitting long-sleeved shirt, and a backpack slung over his shoulder. Why isn’t he dressed for the ceremony? “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry to do this now, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Though I thought this was what I wanted, I’ve realized that what I truly want is something I can never have. So, consider this my official resignation as Borealis Blade Commander.” He hands me the silver pentacle commander’s pin.
I stare at the pin. “You’re quitting?”
“I’m stepping down. You enjoy giving orders; maybe you should just take up the mantle again.” He adjusts his bag.
I observe him closely. He seems the same, yet different. Being a commander is everything he ever wanted. Why has he changed his mind, and why am I more excited than angry? I spent so much time training him, and he holds the title for a weekend, then quits?
But this is the universe telling me I can have it all.
“You’d work under me again?”
He shrugs. “I have bigger issues, trust me.”
I laugh, then notice he’s eyeing the door. “Going somewhere?”
“Borealis.”
“You don’t want to stay for the party?”
He grimaces. “Thanks, but we all know everyone will have more fun without me.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he gives me a casual salute. “Congratulations, Your Highness. See you back in Borealis. If you decide to give that pin to someone else instead of wearing it yourself, make sure they know what they’re doing. I don’t have time for idiots.”
With that, he leaves.
“Okay, what the hell?” Desi appears beside me. “Tell me that wasn’t divine intervention.”
“Can you help me put this on?”
I hold out the pin.
My sister grins. “I had a feeling you were going to ask. But shouldn’t you talk to Leigh?”
“Leigh will be fine with it. Trust me.”
Another knock. This time it’s my mom. Her smile is radiant against her fancy silver dress. “It’s time.”
I stand at the front of the abbey with its elaborate vaulted ceiling and ornate flying buttresses, facing a nave of nearly two thousand faces.
In the first row, I spot my friends and family.
My mom dabs her eyes with a well-worn tissue.
The bridesmaids have just finished their entrance.
Gianna waits at the base of the dais to take Leigh’s bouquet, her eyes shining.
I stare at the closed double doors at the back of the room, a lump rising in my throat.
Any second now, Leigh will appear.
Violins croon a haunting, beautiful piece that sounds just like Leigh. As everyone stands, the rustle of fabric momentarily overtakes the melody.
The doors open.
I freeze, utterly transfixed by Leigh as she steps into the golden light wearing a dreamy expression.
Her beauty in her white gown nearly brings me to my knees.
Her shoulders are bare, her long hair tumbles in soft ribbons down her back beneath a trailing veil.
Layers of silk, jeweled and beaded, flow elegantly from her waist. Diamonds glimmer against her glowing skin.
But all I see are her eyes, fixed on mine.
My throat is so dry I can barely swallow. The officiant hides a small smile as I shed a tear.
Leigh walks steadily down the aisle. When she reaches the front, she hands her bouquet to Gianna. I offer my hand. She takes it.
She looks up at me and smiles. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I manage, my heart pounding madly.