32. Consummation
Chapter 32
Consummation
SONGBIRD
T he marital bed is set squarely in the middle of the ballroom, two layers of fabric separating the newlyweds from the guests’ avid curiosity. The semi-translucent tarps cast shadows for their benefit, but Mabel, Aidan, and I are meant to stay between the two tarps until consummation is confirmed.
Contrary to yesterday’s stuffy, ceremonial dinner, the wedding party is loud and scandalous, cider and Feyfire wine flowing as the guests revel in the thrill of witnessing something usually kept private.
Without consummation, the magic that is meant to bind their powers forever would fizzle away come midnight, so these traditions are meant to insure the validity of their union.
“Words can be spoken in vain, so actions must always follow promises. The union of your bodies will ensure the gods of your commitment to each other. May their blessing seal your marriage forever.” Mabel says, motioning the newlyweds beyond the second tarp. “For better or worse.”
The old woman brushes the long black feathers of her masquerade mask. We’re all wearing one, save for the newlyweds, but the mask gives the white-haired witch a mysterious flair.
Ezra squeezes her frail arm. “Thank you, Grandmother.”
Something passes between them. “I will say this to you, just as I’ve said it to all the young people I’ve married. Marriage is a long, permanent affair for us Fae. Until death can’t be cheated by waning affections or grander passions, for your magics will be irrevocably linked. This is your last chance to turn back.”
Willow frowns at that. “Do people actually change their minds at the last minute?”
The corners of Mabel’s eyes wrinkle. “More than you’d think.”
Will grasps Ezra’s hand in hers with more confidence than expected. “We’re ready, I think.”
Mabel nods. “Then with your kindreds as witnesses, you will now share blood and magic, just as the gods intended.”
Willow meets my gaze, and I give her a small smile, trying to push past the discomfort in my stomach. “You’ve got this,” I whisper.
They slide between the two diaphanous seams. Ezra tips Willow’s chin up and bends down to kiss her, a kiss that holds all the heat the one they shared after their vows lacked. Willow gasps, apparently swept away by the moment. The crowd goes wild as Ezra expertly tugs at the threads of her corset, unfastening the crisscrosses one by one, and Willow slips off his cloak.
I angle my gaze away as the heavy skirt of her dress falls at her feet.
“You’re beautiful, flame of my heart,” Ezra says warmly, cupping her cheek.
Willow steps out of her dress, her voice brimming with unshed tears, but also a hint of her usual sass. “And you’re the most attractive man on this continent.”
It’s objectively true, of course.
Here we go.
The ritual is a hundred times worse than watching a couple from far away, as we do in Wintermere. Moreover, the sinful fascination of watching others in such a vulnerable state fades when you know them well enough to understand how fucking terrified they really are.
“Close your eyes,” Ezra whispers to his bride, the words barely audible. “Don’t think. Just feel.” He guides her toward the mattress and climbs on top of her, still almost fully clothed.
“I think two witnesses is enough, eh, lovebirds?” Mabel says, stealing my focus away from the scene beyond the tarp. “I’ll give you some privacy.” She slips between the tarps to rejoin the party with a knowing smile.
Aidan reaches for my hand now that we’re alone, holding on tight.
“When Will asked me to be her kindred witness, and I accepted, I don’t think either of us thought it all the way through,” I whisper.
“You think?” Aidan answers with his eyes screwed shut.
I try to concentrate on the mural of the Fall of the Mist King sprawled above our heads, but Willow’s breathless moans slowly grow into a high-pitched choir.
I’ve seen worse. Done worse. But this is Willow and Ezra . Somehow, my body is both incredibly cold and hot at the same time. The flush in my cheeks spreads to my temples and blurs their hushed conversation, Aidan’s grip tightening as Willow’s groans get louder.
Yet, I’m a Winter Fae. I can’t help but steal another peek.
When the time comes for them to take this further, my insides curl.
“Ow,” Willow rasps, and the crowd beyond the tarps howls in cheer, the white linen walls shuddering under their boastful taps.
“Sorry,” Ezra croaks.
“It’s not so bad, actually. Just a sting.” I can hear the sorrow crackling in her voice, and my stomach lurches.
“What a compliment,” Ezra chuckles darkly.
I hear the ruffle of fabric and crack one eye open when Ezra gasps. Willow is on top of him now, taking control, and a golden glow pierces the tarps, wrapping them in sunshine.
It’s done.
My breath hitches, and I hide my face in Aidan’s chest. “This is so strange.”
After today, I no longer find this tradition harmless. Maybe when two people are crazy for each other, it’s easier to zone out the witnesses, but how many Fae royals marry for love, really, when power is valued above all else? When marriage is a way to amplify that power?
Aidan squeezes my hand in his. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Please.”
The crowd is roaring with applause as we slither out of the tent, and I let go of Aidan’s hand with a start.
“You can’t want that for yourself,” he says quickly, wrapping a hand around my waist and guiding me through the raucous crowd.
“A Summer wedding?” I croak, patching my unease with dark humor.
“Songbird. I’m serious.”
It used to be a vague, abstract idea, but now I can too easily picture myself in a similar situation, my family cheering me on as I bed Zeke in front of them. Adrenaline rushes through my blood. I’m disgusted by the idea of linking my body and soul to him forever, when I’m simply aching for someone else.
I lean into Aidan’s embrace without meaning to, yearning for his heat to melt the ice in my blood. Marriage means being linked to someone forever . What happened between Ezra and Willow can never be undone, and the concept is both thrilling and suffocating.
If I ever speak those vows out loud in front of everyone I’ve ever known, I want it to be to Aidan. Just the idea of us sharing something so profound and permanent wrecks my brain.
Aidan ushers me away toward the gardens, taking charge as if he senses the depths of my anguish. “Come on. Walk with me. Please.”
Tall vines with orange, white, and pink flowers grow around the trellis and arches leading to the shoreline of the Lunar Cascades where the stone path ends right at the edge of the sand. The shore is made of the whitest, most delicate sand I’ve ever felt. My heels sink into it, so I slip them off and hold them by the straps—just like I did the night of the solstice—and fall into step beside him, a few inches of trauma still keeping me from bridging the gap between us.
I glance back at the castle, its golden turrets glowing behind us. Now that we’ve cleared the canopy of vines, anyone could see us, and I shiver at the thought, eager to reclaim the privacy of the gardens. But Aidan tugs on my arm, leading me farther still, away from the ballroom and toward a secluded area near the base of the castle. Here, where the castle walls leave a narrow gap, overgrown vegetation hides the entrance to a well-trodden path.
“Come with me. I want to show you something,” he says, squeezing my hand. But I can’t bring myself to speak—not now, not here, in the gardens of the capital. His gardens. His castle.
He’s so far above me, I can’t believe I ever let myself think this could end in anything but disaster.
I cross my arms over my chest, “We should really get back.”
A couple walks out of the very same path, heading straight toward us, and Aidan pushes me deep into the bushes. “In here, quick.”
My heels dig into the white sand, thorns scratching at my arms until Aidan’s magic allows us to hide comfortably within the branches, the vegetation rearranging to form a cocoon around us.
The Spring Queen takes a late-night stroll with a tall, white-haired man, the jackal tattoo on his neck marking him as the Storm King.
“I don’t want you to remarry, Frey. We can petition for you to become queen on your own,” he says.
Freya fans herself in response. “Don’t be ridiculous. The others wouldn’t support me if I didn’t marry.”
“I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else.”
“Oberon never bothered you.”
“Oberon is old and dying. Ferdinand will expect you to bear him more children. If you can’t get the others to back you without a husband, then leave your crown to the girl, and come to Storm’s End with me.”
The Spring Queen and the Storm King are lovers—yet another couple thwarted by politics, by the sound of it. Aidan’s hands are solid and warm on my hips, and I rest my head on his chest.
“I could never be just your mistress, Thor. That’s out of the question.”
They walk past us and disappear beyond the hedges. We wait for a minute before moving or talking, and I revel in the feel of Aidan’s solid frame at my back, my lids fluttering.
“Sounds like Freya plans to marry Zeke’s father,” he finally says, enlacing our fingers once more.
“Why did they come here?”
“For the same reason we did, I expect, though I can’t understand how they would know about this place. It’s a family secret.” He uses his magic to clear a way out of our hiding nook, and we rejoin the main trail. “We can’t head back until we’re sure they’ve gone, so I might as well show you why we came.”
The small entrance to the cylindrical tunnel is freckled with polished glass, embedded seamlessly into the ancient stones. It looks as though the passage was carved by molten lava, its edges smooth and gleaming with an unnatural sheen. The stones catch and reflect the moonlight, sending faint ripples of silver along the tube. Aidan lets a spark of his fire flicker to life in his hand, illuminating the way ahead. The light dances along the glass, casting flickering shadows and bursts of amber in its wake.
My blood pounds at my temples as we reach the end of the tunnel. Aidan pushes open a heavy stone door, the muscles in his shoulders and arms bunching with the effort.
“We’re in—” I gasp.
“The throne room.”
The Eternal Chalice sits right there, perched on a mound of black ashes. The cup—from which every Fae monarch has drunk—is shaped like an hourglass, the top ready to receive the blood of others so a new king can be anointed and access the magic of his lands. It was forged as a failsafe against the dangerous whims of the divine. But, as Devi described, the chalice also allows Fae Kings to circumvent the will of the gods—an instrument that makes them able to name a king of their choosing, one who doesn’t bear the Mark of the Gods.
Its presence is both a symbol of power and a shadow of defiance. The air around it is thick with centuries of history, and a subtle hum of magic pulses from the powdery coals beneath it. It’s a temptation, a promise of freedom from the gods' unyielding influence. And in this room, where the fate of the Fae hangs in the balance, it feels both like a gift and a curse.
My fingers tingle as I reach to touch it. The black metal from which it’s been forged glows opalescent under the flickering light of Aidan’s fire.
“The chalice balances the powers of the gods and keeps the current of our magics steady.”
I press my lips together. “It’s also an instrument that favors the most shrewd politicians.”
“That, too.”
I extend my hand to touch the rim but pull back at the last second, weary of yearning for something that will never be mine. I already crave Aidan in spite of my best judgment—there’s no need to add a crown to the list.
“There will never be a throne for me, Aidan,” I say softly.
He stands tall in front of me. “I would give it up, you know? The throne, the amber crown, and even the power that comes with it.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I would rather not have to, but I would. You are worth more to me.”
“I’m not worth anything .” I slip back behind the tapestry, beyond the hidden door, and head down the tunnel on my own. Aidan doesn’t bother to close the door behind him and runs after me in the shifting sand.
He clasps my hand and forces me to a standstill, and I turn to face him, my ragged breath and unshed tears blurring my senses.
“Everything that happened tonight only reaffirmed my desire not to marry for duty.” He caresses my knuckles with his thumb, his movements gentle despite how breathless we both are. “Let me love you, Songbird. I’d be pretty good at it. Break it off with Zeke. Break it off and be with me instead.”
I shake my head, terrified of being swept away by the same madness. “If I end it, I won’t be able to afford next year’s tuition. I’ll be forced to train as a reaper, and my father will be heartbroken.”
“If your father wants you to be engaged to a prince, then so be it.” Aidan gets on one knee and gathers a fistful of sand in his grip, and my heart implodes from the sight alone.
There he is, my Summer Prince on his knees, not desperate to keep me by his side for one more night, but for all of them. Not hungry for my body, but for me. Forever.
His fist turns red and orange, and he dusts off a feminine, perfectly transparent glass ring and holds it in the dim streak of moonlight that penetrates the glass tunnel.
“Marry me, Songbird.”
My lips part, my head spinning with the weight of everything he’s offering. He’s there on one knee as though it’s as simple as that. As though a proposal from him is something he can give out in the spur of the moment. It solidifies my worst fear—that I enchanted him. That he’s not quite right in his mind.
“I’m a moth. Your mother would never approve. By the spindle, your father would probably kick me out of the Summerlands forever if he knew we were even considering this.”
He opens his mouth to argue, but hesitates. “Then we’ll just see each other in secret until you’re ready to elope with me. I’m not a patient man, but I can be patient for you.”
“Aidan…”
“I saw your expression on that altar. You’re as hungry for this as I am.”
I don’t have it in me to fight anymore, not when he’s right on all counts. I pat down the lapels of his jacket, praying that he’ll understand, or at least not destroy me for my honesty. This might be the last time he looks at me this way. As if he’d cut off his own heart to heal mine.
“We can’t marry because I’m a siren.”
His expression darkens, his brows pulling together. “What?”
“When we first met, I had no idea, but I accidentally enchanted you,” I blurt out. “That’s why you broke the rules to help me. I found out very recently that I have siren blood, so when I sang, you felt compelled to help me.”
“Siren blood—That’s impossible.”
“I couldn’t believe it either, at first, but my father confirmed it. I’m a siren, Aidan. A Sea mutt. A soiled, hybrid creature that belongs far away from the continent. From you .”
And I cry. I cry like I did the night I read my mother’s letter and realized Aidan might not actually love me. I let it all go and fall at his feet, toppled over by the weight of my own shame.
“Hey, hey. It’s alright.” He falls to his knees, too, and wraps me up in his arms.
“I promise you I had no idea. I would never have violated your free will like that. Never.”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
I rub my eyes and inch away from him. “But don’t you see? It was my fault you cheated. And maybe it’s still affecting you.” My chin trembles. “When I sang, it made you fall for me, but it’s not real. None of it is.”
“Shh. It’s alright.” He envelops me in his arms once more while I weep and weep on his shoulder, the stress and doubts that overshadowed the last few months condensing into heavy, torrential pain.
“You don’t believe me,” I say on a sniffle, thinking he’s acting way too affectionate to have heard me right.
“I do, truly. It makes sense.”
“How?”
“I threw a contest for you after hearing you sing, I can connect the dots. But it doesn’t matter.”
“How can you say that? I enchanted you; manipulated you.”
“Songbird. It’s not your fault if you didn’t know.”
“How can you be so calm about this?” I squeak.
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "I’d love you if you were a harpy, Beth Snow. Haven’t you figured it out by now?" He cups my cheeks and presses a kiss to my nose. "A siren’s song never lingers past a good night’s sleep, and I count hundreds of cold, lonely mornings since we’ve met. I love you, Songbird. And not because you can bewitch men with a song."
I shake my head. There are so few reliable references about the Sea Fae. I can’t bring myself to believe the 'cured by dawn' folklore is as simple as that. "But how can you be sure?"
"Feel my heartbeat." He presses my palm to his chest. "This isn’t the result of some siren song. I’ve studied the legends. I’ve read the stories of sailors rushing to their deaths. The ones who survive wake groggy in the morning, but by lunchtime, they’re ready to reach for their harpoons—not shop for centerpieces and matching rings. If your song inspired me to help you in the labyrinth, I’m glad, because it brought us together."
Hot tears spill over my lashes, his reaction so unexpected, his certainty and understanding trampling the walls I’ve built to protect myself from the truth of my lineage and the destructive consequences I was sure would come with it.
My fingers tremble over his face as I graze the soft arch of his brow, struck once more by his beauty and kindness.
He kisses the underside of my wrist, just as he did that first, fateful night. “I love you because you’re clever and funny, with a sharp tongue that rivals my charming prince-ness. You study harder than anyone else, yet you still care about people. You’re a great listener, but you also have the confidence to speak your truths, even when they challenge the status quo. You don’t accept the current laws and rules as gospel—you take them as the foundation for a better world to come. You see past the princely mask I’ve forged for myself, and you blush when you think of me—right here.”
He traces the angle of my jaw, caressing the tender skin underneath. “I see you, Beth Snow, and I stand by my offer. We’ll go home for now, back to the academy, but I’ll be counting the days until you agree to become my wife.”
We’re both panting despite staying still. Sand digs into my knees, the high slit of my dress allowing the fabric to splay on either side as Aidan slides closer. “I want to love you freely, both under the moonlight and in the sunshine. Forever.”
“I love you, too.” There it is. The other truth I was so afraid to tell.
His lips claim mine in a fierce, urgent kiss, and I gasp at the force of his hold, his hands caressing my hips up and down.
“One night was never going to be enough. I need to be inside you, Songbird.”
Last time, he wanted it to be slow. Tonight, we’re both too desperate for slow and crash against each other in a flurry of heated moans and hungry tugs as he climbs over me, spreading me down on the sand.
He peels the silk of my dress aside and tears off my underwear.
I unfasten the knot of his trousers.
He fills my hand, hot and ravenous, and I wrap my legs around him, beckoning him closer. I do not want to wait, or talk, or even breathe for another minute without the feel of him tucked deep inside me.
He shares my impatience and gives in to the urgency of the moment, lining himself up with my entrance without qualms.
I’ve been craving this ever since our gut-wrenching conversation in his apartments, where he was wearing nothing but a towel. I was so sure we were done then, so certain I could never be with him again, never touch him again. I thought I would never spend another night in his arms or learn to love as fiercely as he does.
My skin heats up at his touch, hot enough to burn, but I abandon myself completely to the flames.
My flames.
My Aidan.
He knows the truth, and he still loves me. A huge, giddy smile stretches my lips as he fucks me hard and fast, just how I need it tonight. The sand grinds against the skin of my buttocks in a delicious and unexpected way, setting each nerve ending ablaze. I twist my hand in his hair, my nails embedded in his scalp, clutching him closer.
We collide like falling stars, shattering on impact. I’m left shuddering and vulnerable in Aidan’s arms as a quick, almost destructive climax turns the world beyond him to stardust, erasing the tunnels from my vision.
We catch our breath, and my cheeks flush crimson at how desperate we both were to lose ourselves to each other. To our incredible, reckless connection.
Aidan traces the shape of my collarbone. “Marry me.”
“You have to stop saying that.”
“Why?”
Because I’m dying to say yes.
I bite my bottom lip, what seemed impossible just this morning sounding more and more reasonable in the afterglow of our tryst. “We need to wait until Morheim at the very least, so I can get my Shadow mask.”
Aidan pouts at that, dragging his lips along the curve of my jaw. “But that’s weeks away.”
“We’ll revisit this nonsense?—”
“—proposal,” he corrects me with a grin.
“Alright, we’ll revisit this proposal after Morheim.” I raise one finger between us and try to look as fierce as I can. “But it’s not a yes.”
His hand tangled in my hair, he pulls me to him, swallowing my doubts with a hot, dizzying kiss. “It’s not a no, either,” he murmurs against my lips.