Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
The winter morning sun pours through my window like honey, bathing the palace in golden light that belies the chill in the air. Below, the courtyard vibrates with life, a stream of visitors flowing through the gates in colorful rivulets.
I press my palm against the cool glass while watching their arrival. Nobles and commoners alike, drawn by curiosity or duty or the simple human desire to witness something extraordinary.
First my wedding.
Then a masquerade ball.
And tomorrow, the Champions Match.
The thought of getting married—an impossibility made flesh—still catches in my throat sometimes.
The girl I was, kidnapped and raised in an enemy kingdom, could never have imagined becoming queen, let alone marrying the man she loved.
And now that dream hovers tantalizingly close, just beyond the nightmare we must first survive.
The reception line.
Maybe we should have scheduled the Champions Match first.
But Sterling and I both agreed, since there’s a very real possibility one or both of us could die in the battle, that we would do so as husband and wife.
Morbid, but true.
Guards line the palace walls, their armor gleaming in the sunlight. From this height, they look like tiny precise figurines. The banners snap above them. Tirene’s colors are vibrant against the cloudless sky, demanding allegiance from the wind itself.
How many of those guards will survive tomorrow? Will any of us?
“Your Majesty,” Rhiann murmurs from behind me, her voice carefully neutral. “The gold thread or the silver for the final touches?”
I turn from the window, forcing myself back to the present moment.
My gown for the ball lies draped across the bed, a cascade of midnight blue silk that shimmers with embedded magic.
I trace the intricate embroidery at the collar, where stylized flames will glow when activated in a subtle display of my fire magic, designed to both impress and intimidate our guests.
“Gold.”
At a nod from Rhiann, the seamstress begins the delicate work.
Around her, the chamber bustles with quiet purpose.
Servants arrange jewelry for tonight’s feast, prepare the ornate mask I’ll wear to the masquerade, and set up kits of makeup.
None of them know that a war council’s plans lurk beneath these wedding preparations.
Outside, a wild dragon I’ve never seen before soars overhead, its emerald scales catching the sunlight.
Through the dragonbond, it sends down warm, content emotions.
While the dragons don’t understand weddings, they understand courtship flights.
This is close enough to one that they all want to come witness it.
The crowd below gasps and gestures upward. Worry twinges within me for the hatchlings hidden safely away in the mountain cave with their parents.
If our plan fails tomorrow, they’ll be among the first targets of divine vengeance.
We cannot fail. We will not fail.
The door opens, and Sterling strolls in, his formal attire doing nothing to hide the tension in his shoulders.
His silvery wings are folded tightly against his back, but I can see the tension there, too, and the readiness for flight or fight.
His gold-flecked brown eyes meet mine, and for a moment, we’re back in each other’s arms, dancing beneath a shower of water droplets, pretending the world might not end.
“The Aclarian delegation arrived an hour ago.” Sterling points out the window to where they stand. “Fifty strong, including their new regent.”
I nod, cataloguing this information with the rest.
We stand in silence, shoulders not quite touching, watching as more visitors stream through the gates.
Representatives from every kingdom, drawn by curiosity, politics, and the invitation to witness the Champions Match.
Every additional person is another soul to save, another witness to our rebellion against the gods. Another potential casualty.
Once again, the door opens. This time, Agnar enters.
I’m struck immediately by his uncharacteristic solemnity. His usual cheerful irreverence is absent, replaced by something grimmer and more focused. His coppery hair is tied back neatly, his ceremonial armor polished to a high shine. His piercing blue eyes hold none of their usual mischief.
“Against all odds, the Kamorian delegation has just arrived.” He closes the door carefully behind him. “And the Devoted are gathering in the squares across the city.”
The presence of the cultists, though no surprise, complicates matters. They’ll be watching us, reporting every action back to their divine master.
Out of instinct, I square my shoulders, and my wings respond to my tension by shifting against my clothing. While I can keep my face from displaying emotions, my wings are harder to tame. “We’ll give them a show worth remembering.”
The servants withdraw, leaving us alone. Agnar turns his back toward us and waits by the door. In this moment of privacy, Sterling’s composure slips just a fraction.
He presses his forehead against mine, and our breath mingles in the space between us. “Are you ready, love?”
Am I ready to greet nobles who distrust us, to smile at visitors who’ve come to gawk, and to dance at a masquerade while plotting treason against the deities who could level our kingdom—our world—in a heartbeat?
Am I ready to stand against the gods themselves, to risk everything and everyone I love on a desperate gamble?
Absolutely fucking not. But I will be. “To marry you, yes. Everything else, not in the slightest. But I’m doing it anyway.”
“Same.” Sterling’s lips curve in the softest of smiles before he covers my mouth with his.
Desire coils low in my belly, and for a few seconds, I lose myself in him completely.
The way his tongue sweeps in my mouth, teeth grazing my lower lip.
The way one hand cradles the nape of my neck, the other tracing leisurely, sensual circles on my lower back.
The way his eyes slide shut as he moans and deepens the kiss.
Way too soon, Sterling pulls back a few inches, dragging a breath through clenched teeth.
“If we weren’t obligated to greet our visitors, there is nothing, and I mean nothing, that would stop me from ripping that dress off of your exquisite body, laying you out on the nearest flat surface, and worshipping every inch of you. I’d start by sliding my tongue—”
By the door, Agnar clears his throat less than discreetly. “Hot as it is to listen to you two get down and dirty, Rhiann says it’s time to go.”
Sterling’s responding growl earns him a laugh from Agnar.
“Okay, then.” I head for the door, leaving Sterling to adjust the bulge in his pants. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”
The world might be ending, yet no one told the royal seamstress.
My gorgeous wedding gown is a miracle of engineering with layers and layers of diaphanous silk dyed in gradients.
Pure white at the shoulders and sleeves flows into gold, orange, and then red at the hem, as if a bonfire rose from my ankles and set my bones ablaze.
The cut is far more daring than I’d have tried in the past, but if the last year taught me anything, it’s that fear is a wasted emotion unless you’re running from actual monsters.
I spin in this small salon on the first floor of the palace, and the skirt sighs in a splash of shifting color. After we spent the better part of the morning welcoming our guests, I left my crown in my room. The wedding ceremony isn’t about being a queen, only a woman in love.
Rhiann stands behind me, her professional expression forgotten.
Today she’s helping me not as Lady of the Bedchamber, but as Sterling’s only living female family member.
According to Tirene custom, the bride gets ready with the female members of both families.
Between Sterling and me, we only have Rhiann and Leesa left.
The door creaks.
“Still alive in there?” Leesa pushes inside with a clatter of heels.
The sight of my sister almost undoes me. She’s glowing. Radiant. Her olive skin and dark golden blond hair are somehow more luminous than usual, and she’s holding—oh gods, please no—a bouquet that could double as a siege weapon. It takes both her arms to hold it up.
At the center, a Fusion Root Vine blooms, while the rest of the arrangement is a riot of blue and violet and those angry yellow bells that the gardener claims are native to our kingdom and nowhere else.
I stare in horror. “Is that just for me?”
“It was so worth it to carry all of these in together. Just to see you freak out like that.” Leesa grins before dividing the bouquet into three sections, passing one to Rhiann before handing the largest bundle to me. “They’re ready for us if you are.”
I breathe a sigh of relief and thank my good fortune—because thanking the gods is at the bottom of my list these days—that I don’t have to carry the entirety of the palace gardens in my bouquet.
I’m not ready, of course. But I smile anyway because Leesa is already sniffling, her pregnancy rendering her immune to logic or decorum. “Let’s go before you get puffy.”
“Damn these hormones.” Leesa laughs and dabs her cheeks. “My baby sister is getting married. I just can’t believe it. You look so grown up.” She takes my arm and leads me toward the corridor, Rhiann following on my other side. “If you trip, I’ll never let you live it down.”
“Hey, it’s your turn next. “I slide a good-natured glare her way. “And I hear payback’s a bitch.”
If my language offends Rhiann, she doesn’t show it. She merely walks quietly beside us, flowers in hand.
Somewhere in the palace, an orchestra is tuning up, their scales running in nervous spirals.
It’s ridiculous, how grand this all is, considering the guest list fits onto a single page.
I almost regret that so few people will ever see this gown, but I don’t regret the rest. If I had to endure a thousand stares, I’d never make it down the aisle or manage to speak our vows.
Two guards open the doors for us. One is Elijah, eyes wide and posture stiff. Donovan is the other. The tawny-haired guard flashes me a warm smile, a genuine gesture that helps settle my nerves.
With Rhiann and Leesa, I head for the man who will become my husband.
Agnar and Bastian, the men of our families, flank the path.
The hedges are alive with birds and bees, and about two dozen chairs occupied mostly by council members line the central aisle.
With the political issues we’re mired in, inviting foreign dignitaries to the wedding ceremony itself is now out of the question.
My big brother grins, but his eyes appear suspiciously glassy. “You look radiant. I wish our father was here to see you.”
Or any of the other family members we’ve lost.
Agnar keeps shooting glances over his shoulder, where Sterling waits next to the officiant.
My pulse spikes before steadying.
In the gardens, the cobblestone pathway is awash in afternoon sun.
Sterling stands at the head of our makeshift aisle, resplendent in layers of white and blue that make his wings seem almost iridescent. The sight of him sends a shock of electricity up my spine, and for a second, I’m worried I’ll actually start crying.
Until I see the way his eyes devour every inch of me, as if he’s already undressing me in his head.
My mind goes blank as we walk, save for three competing sensations. The fragrant breeze, the weight of the bouquet in my hand, and the way Sterling’s gaze holds mine all the way down the aisle like a lifeline.
The fountain comes into view, the familiar hedge behind it trimmed in the shape of two dragons.
When we reach the break in the pathway, Bastian pulls Leesa away. Agnar takes Rhiann. Everyone disappears until only Sterling and I are left standing by the fountain.
The officiant, a man with silver hair and a booming voice that could split granite, motions for us to halt. I grasp the hand Sterling offers me. This is the last time I’ll hold his hand as his intended.
You sure about this? he mouths. It’s not too late to back out.
I squeeze his hand, a knot lodging in my throat as I try to mouth back a response. So sure.
The ceremony is mercifully short. We tore out all mentions of the gods. Today of all days, I do not want them looking down on me. Not with blessings, or joy, or anything else.
Today is about Sterling and me.
But most of it’s simple, and pure, and more honest than I ever imagined a wedding could be. Sterling speaks first, and he doesn’t withhold anything. He trembles a little as he recites the ancient vows. To trust, love, and give me sanctuary in life.
Then it’s my turn.
The words sound silly, almost childish, when I say them aloud. But he doesn’t look away, not once. Not even when my voice breaks.
“You may kiss to seal your covenant.” The master steps back, and before he can finish, Sterling’s mouth is on mine, tender and urgent and impossibly sweet. His hand cradles the back of my neck, pulling me close enough that my wings threaten to burst free.
The small crowd erupts in applause, but I don’t care.
I’m dizzy, high on the contact, and when I open my eyes, my husband’s staring at me with the kind of hunger that doesn’t belong in a public garden.
My cheeks go nuclear. He presses his forehead to mine, and in this moment, though all isn’t right in the world, all is right in our world.
Rose appears out of nowhere, her arms encircling my waist, her hair shot through with flower petals and the persistent glow of Kin, who’s temporarily doubled in size. She doesn’t say a word, just peers up at me with wide happy eyes.
I catch Leesa watching us, her cheeks bright with tears. When I meet her gaze, she laughs and wipes her face. “You were always the brave one,” she calls. “I just tagged along for the drama.”
Sterling looks at me like I’ve hung a second sun in the sky just for him.
The ball is tonight. In a few hours, we’ll have to play royalty again, parade in front of the court, and act as if nothing terrifies us anymore.
But for now, there’s a soft place to land, and a future with at least one person who will always be in my corner.
I glance around at my friends and family and the dragons wheeling in the sky, and I wonder, for a heartbeat, if this is what peace really feels like.
Sterling’s hand finds mine, and he squeezes gently. “Ready for the next hundred years?”
I nod, a little terrified, but mostly in love. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”