CHAPTER 48
When Melizan arrived in her chamber, she found it filled with merkind—at least a dozen of Cosette’s relatives from the river. Puddles shimmered on the marble floor.
They fluttered and fussed around Cosette, who sat on the chaise as they rubbed scented balms into her skin, slipped bracelets made of shells and pearls onto her wrists, and laced delicate pink flowers through her emerald hair. Their laughter and chatter stopped when they spotted Melizan.
Cosette looked up at her with worried eyes. “I hope it’s all right. They all wanted to come.”
Merkind at the wedding. A lot of them. What would Tyghan think?
But Cosette was so beautiful, so happy—
“Of course it’s all right. Your family should be here.”
She hoped. This whole thing was twisting her stomach tighter by the minute, but then Cosette smiled like Melizan had just given her the greatest wedding gift of all.
Her aunts and mother turned toward her, smiling too, and looked like they were about to pounce on Melizan with a merciless hug.
“I have to go now,” she said quickly, feeling strangely breathless.
“I’m going to go change, and I’ll meet you at Sun Court. ”
“I hope these flowers aren’t too much?” Cosette said, motioning to her hair.
Gods, no.
“They’re perfect, my love. Trust me.”
She hurried to her bath chamber, eager to get out of there as fast as possible.
She was doing this. She was really doing this. The one thing she said she would never do: care too much.
“Where’s Ivy?” Tyghan shouted when he reached the top of the grand staircase and got his first glimpse of Sun Court and the plazas around it. “What is all this?”
Quin whistled, his hand skimming the back of his freshly shaved head. “Looks like more than fifteen minutes to me.”
Sun Court was filled with chairs. Guests were already filling them.
“And get an eyeful of Jasper Court,” Dalagorn said, pointing in the other direction.
Their normally dark tucked-away court was now bright with silky ribbons and puffy purple flowers.
Tyghan shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ivy!” he yelled.
She promptly appeared, her wings beating with happiness. “Like it?” she asked. “Just what you ordered.”
“I said a special thing or two.”
“That’s what this is. And food and drink. The celebration you asked for.”
“A celebration? This is a fucking coronation! I have meetings this afternoon—”
“No you don’t. I moved them for you. I knew that—”
“You what?” It was one week until the Choosing Ceremony! He was about to throttle Ivy, or send her to the infirmary because she had certainly gone mad. “I told you—”
“Tyghan!”
He turned. It was Melizan, her eyes glassy, as she descended on them, half running, her blue gown billowing behind her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said. And then she hugged him.
Or gripped him like she was about to fall off a ledge.
He wasn’t sure. She spoke into his ear so the others couldn’t hear.
“I didn’t expect this of you, brother. I didn’t even know how much it meant to me until I saw it.
Ivy told me it was all your idea. Coming from you, this means everything.
Thank you. Cosette and I will never forget it.
” He looked at Ivy over Melizan’s shoulder, and she smiled.
Melizan stepped back. “I do have to warn you about one thing, though. There will be merkind at the ritual. A lot of them.”
Tyghan stood behind the short, draped pedestal that held the binding ribbon. A large part of him still fumed, but Melizan’s joy, and Ivy’s knowing smile, managed to keep his tongue in check. He tried to remind himself this was the break and celebration everyone needed, especially after yesterday.
His sister anxiously watched the grand staircase for Cosette. She was late. “Do you think she’s changed her mind?” Melizan whispered.
“She’ll be here,” he said, not to reassure her but because he knew Cosette was fully committed to Melizan. She had been proving that for months—it just took Tyghan a while to catch on.
His gaze jumped to the guests sitting in the front row.
That, he still couldn’t quite accept. Their hair dripped with water from the river, and their damp clothes clung to their skin.
Merkind. Since he had time to kill, he counted them.
Fourteen. All one cousin away from being Fomorian.
But Bristol’s words tempered him. There is only so much one person can control.
Sitting just behind them was Cael, today glamoured as elven, sleek red hair falling to his waist. He insisted on coming to witness his sister’s binding ritual, and Tyghan could hardly deny him that, so he consented, but that was before he knew the wedding would be turned into a spectacle.
And, of course, lords, ladies, and council members were there too, still skittish about any violation of protocol.
What could possibly go wrong? And then he noted the monarchs of Bleakwood and Silverwing being escorted to seats.
He was about to throw his hands up in the air.
As long as they were here for meetings, why not?
Ivy. He hoped there were no more surprises.
He searched for Bristol but hadn’t spotted her among the guests yet. Always the last to arrive, he thought.
Melizan gasped and Tyghan followed her gaze.
Cosette stood at the top of the grand staircase, wearing a sleek pale pink gown that hugged her curves.
Her emerald hair, which was usually tied back for her duties as a knight, flowed down her shoulders past her waist and was woven with pink flowers that matched her gown.
A murmur rolled through the court. She was breathtaking.
But then Tyghan flinched. Gods, she was trailed by still more merkind, like they were some kind of marriage committee following her down the stairs. He forced a smile so he wouldn’t groan.
Eris stood with Dahlia at the perimeter of Sun Court, witnessing the proceedings.
He noted the fully outfitted knights with swords on their backs flooding the surrounding courts and overlooks, ready for battle, but more likely, ready to valiantly protect this celebration.
Melizan was one of their own, as was Cosette. Fomoria would not steal this moment.
The décor and trimmings were excessive, as was the attendance, but Tyghan never missed a beat, rising to the occasion for his sister.
When the binding began, he wound the ribbon around the couple’s hands as he recited the words that Eris had given him.
Words he had written so long ago, for Tyghan’s parents.
“. . . and there is no greater gift that one can give to another than the gift of their heart, their love, their commitment, their promise to always be there for the other, to bring comfort to one another in the hardest of times, to understand the value of silence, but also, the grasping of hands and dancing in gardens when your partner needs to be lifted.”
Tyghan slowed with each word, and his gaze finally rose to meet Eris’s. Dancing in gardens?
Eris looked away. Had he really said those things back then? Had he been so blatantly transparent? Apparently so. He sighed. He should have at least changed the words for Tyghan.
“It’s all right,” Dahlia whispered.
Eris slipped his hand into hers, but she discreetly pulled away. “Not here,” she said.
The patience that Eris usually reached for wasn’t there this time, and the tug in his chest wasn’t love.
When Bristol slipped into her seat at Sun Court, she methodically scanned the guests, looking for a scowling alchemist in a fancy robe, but she couldn’t spot Reuben anywhere—at least from her vantage point.
A lord with a ridiculously large-feathered hat obscured a whole section of the court.
She was still disturbed by Willow’s visit and the distress she saw in her eyes. He’s nowhere. What did that mean?
But as Tyghan began to speak, Reuben and Willow disappeared from her thoughts.
She watched Melizan and Cosette looking into each other’s eyes, appearing so oddly fragile.
Not like themselves at all. Bristol’s heart swelled.
They were laying everything on the line for each other, publicly, and with each word Tyghan spoke, their hard exteriors fell away.
They were no longer two fierce knights but two people fiercely in love.
And as Tyghan talked about love and comfort and commitment, Bristol’s thoughts turned to his unproposal to her.
When this is all over, I want you to be my wife.
And I want to be your husband. Her stomach bobbed like it was loose in a sea.
How she regretted saying no now, regretted putting it off for the ideal moment, because there was no such thing as the perfect moment.
She wished she could tear a ribbon from her dress right now and tie it to Tyghan’s hand and her own and declare her love publicly, so everyone would know.
Yes, I want to be your wife! But now was not the time.
This was Melizan and Cosette’s moment. Bristol consoled herself that it wasn’t a missed chance. Not yet. There was still time.
“And so,” Tyghan continued, “as we are all present here to witness the binding of your hands and your hearts, I ask that you publicly state your commitment to each other.”
“I bind my heart and life to you, Melizan.”
“And I bind mine to you, Cosette.”
Tyghan lifted their bound hands above their heads and called out, “And these witnesses say . . .”
A loud cheer of affirmations reverberated through the court.
“It is done,” Tyghan concluded.
Melizan and Cosette kissed, and just like that, they were married. Bound in this life and the next in only fifteen minutes as promised—but the celebrations were only beginning.
Tyghan kissed them each on the cheek, had them sign their marriage contract, and then stepped back as Cosette’s relatives moved in, piling flower chains on Melizan, welcoming her to the family.
Then they moved in on Tyghan, too, clearly unaware that Melizan’s brother was not the daisy-chain type.
But Bristol watched him take it in stride, thanking them, wearing lopsided flower crowns on his head.
Sashka came up beside her, eyeing Tyghan. “Who is that guy?” she asked.
Bristol laughed. “Not sure, but he’s mine. All mine.”
With the palace grounds overflowing with guests, music, and laughter, no one noticed Kasta’s absence from the ceremony.
She sat on the marble corridor of Judge’s Walk, leaning back against a column, the light of the stars and moon shimmering on the surface of her full wineglass.
“Do you hear that, Kierus?” she asked. “The music? It’s a wedding.
Melizan’s, actually. Yes, even Melizan, who swore she would never commit to one person, is getting married.
I suppose Bristol and Tyghan will be next.
They’re very close, you know? Think of it, your daughter marrying the man you stabbed.
No doubt you’ll be able to hear their wedding from here too.
“Oops,” she said, when she poured more wine and it sloshed over the side, spilling onto the tile. “I’d share some with you, but I guess that’s not possible. But can you smell it, Kierus? Can you imagine the sweetness of a sip? I just want you to know what you’re missing. What you could have had.”