Chapter 14 Iris
Iris
The morning of the feast, I wake before dawn and immediately try to take over.
"The roast needs to go in by seven if we want it ready by—"
"Six-thirty," Cadeon says without looking up from the checklist he's reviewing. "Already in the oven. Along with the root vegetables, which are seasoned exactly as you specified."
"The bread—"
"Rising for its final proof. I started the dough at four."
"You've been up since four?"
"I don't require sleep." He makes a notation on his list. "You, however, do. Why are you awake?"
"I couldn't sleep."
He looks up then, his pale eyes assessing. "You're nervous."
"I'm hosting sixty people for a formal dinner. Of course I'm nervous."
"You're hosting sixty people for a formal dinner on the night of solstice, when our bond will either transform or dissolve." He sets down the list and crosses to me. "That is what you're nervous about."
I don't bother denying it. "Aren't you?"
"No."
The simplicity of his answer catches me off guard. "No? Just... no?"
"I've made my choice. The uncertainty isn't on my end." He cups my face in his hands, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "Tonight, I will choose you. I have no doubts about that."
"But what if—"
"There are no 'what ifs' for me. Not anymore." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Now. Get dressed, and let me handle the preparations. Your only task today is to be present and enjoy the feast you've created."
"I can't just sit around while you do all the work."
"You can. You will." His tone brooks no argument. "You've spent weeks pouring magic into the food, the decorations, the very air of this house. The labor is done. Now you rest and let me manage the execution."
I want to argue. Every instinct in me wants to push back, to insist I can help, to maintain some semblance of control over this situation.
But I look at him standing there in the warm kitchen, sleeves rolled up, completely in command, and something in me loosens.
"Okay," I say quietly.
His eyebrows rise. "That was easier than I expected."
"Don't get used to it."
"I wouldn't dream of it." But he's smiling as he guides me toward the stairs. "Thea will arrive at three to help you dress. I've laid out your grandmother's formal robes, but you may choose something else if you prefer."
Not a chance in hell I’m wearing my grandmother’s clothing. "You've thought of everything," I say.
"That is rather the point."
I pause on the first step, looking back at him. He's already returned to his checklist, moving through the kitchen with the quiet efficiency of someone who knows exactly what needs to be done and how to do it.
For two centuries, he was a weapon. A tool. Something to be used and maintained.
Now he's planning a dinner party with the same precision he once brought to warfare, and he looks happier than I've ever seen him.
"Thank you. For all of this."
"You're welcome." Simple. Sincere. "Now go rest. You'll need your energy for tonight."
I climb the stairs and try not to think about midnight.
Thea arrives at three with a bag of cosmetics and more enthusiasm than anyone should have about formal events.
"I can't believe you're actually hosting," she says, steering me toward a chair and attacking my hair with a brush. "Your grandmother's Midwinter Feast was legendary, but I never thought I'd see one happen again. And now you're continuing the tradition!"
"I'm trying not to think of it as continuing her tradition. More like... starting my own."
"Even better." She begins twisting my hair into something elaborate. "Ash is downstairs helping Cadeon with the final setup. They're getting along surprisingly well."
"Surprisingly?"
"Cadeon doesn't usually get along with anyone. But Ash said they spent twenty minutes discussing optimal candle placement and both seemed to enjoy it immensely."
I laugh despite my nerves. "That sounds about right."
"He's different, you know. Cadeon." Thea meets my eyes in the mirror. "I've seen him at gatherings for years. He was always so... empty. Like he was there but not really present. Now he's actually engaged. Talking to people. Smiling, even."
"He smiles more now."
"Because of you." She pins a section of hair in place. "Everyone can see it. The way he looks at you. The way the bond feels between you. It's beautiful, Iris."
"It's terrifying," I admit. "Tonight it either transforms or breaks. And I don't know if I'm ready."
Thea pauses her work. "Ready for what?"
"For whatever I'm supposed to do. The texts talk about surrendering control, about mutual vulnerability. He's already there. He knows what he wants, he's made his choice. But I..." I trail off, not sure how to articulate the tightness in my chest.
"But you're used to being the strong one," Thea says gently. "The caretaker. The one who holds it all together."
"Yes."
"And tonight you might have to let him hold you instead."
I hadn't thought of it that way, but hearing her say it makes something click into place. "That shouldn't be hard. I love him. I trust him."
"Loving and trusting aren't the same as surrendering.
" Thea returns to my hair, her fingers gentle.
"Take it from someone who struggled with the same thing.
When Ash and I transformed our bond, I had to admit that I needed him.
Not just wanted him around, not just appreciated his help.
Actually needed him. It felt like peeling off my skin. "
"Did it work?"
"Obviously. We're still here." She smiles.
"But it wasn't easy. And I suspect it won't be easy for you either.
You've spent your whole life proving you're capable, that you don't need anyone, that your magic is enough even if it's not the kind your grandmother wanted.
Admitting you're incomplete without him goes against everything you've built. "
I sit with that thought while she finishes my hair, pins in the final touches, and moves on to my face.
"You'll figure it out," she says, brushing powder across my cheeks. "You always do."
I wish I had her confidence.
By six o'clock, the cottage has transformed.
Candles float near the ceiling, enchanted with soft golden light.
Evergreen garlands drape every doorway, filling the air with the scent of pine and cedar.
The massive dining table stretches the full length of the hall, set with grandmother's finest china and crystal, linens pressed and napkins folded at precisely forty-five degrees.
Cadeon stands at the entrance, dressed in formal black that makes him look every inch the ancient vampire noble he once was.
His white hair is pulled back, his posture impeccable, and when guests begin arriving, he greets each one with courtly precision that makes several of the older mages blink in surprise.
I hover near the kitchen doorway, watching, trying to find something to do.
"Stop lurking," he murmurs as he passes me, guiding an elderly witch toward her seat. "You're the hostess. Go be present."
"I'm being present."
"You're hiding."
"I'm strategically positioning myself near the food."
"Go." He gives me a gentle push toward the main room. "I have this handled."
And he does. He absolutely does.
I watch him work the room with an ease I never would have expected.
He remembers everyone's names, their dietary restrictions, their preferred seating arrangements.
He smoothly intercepts Magnus before the old man can corner me for another lecture.
He ensures wine glasses stay full and conversation flows.
This is the man my grandmother saw as nothing but a weapon. This brilliant, competent, surprisingly charming man who is currently explaining the historical significance of the table settings to a fascinated young mage.
What a waste. What an absolute waste of two hundred years.
"He's quite something." Petra appears at my elbow, a glass of mulled wine in hand. "I've never seen him like this. Engaged. Present. Almost... happy?"
"He is happy." I accept the glass she offers me. "Finally."
"The bond transformation tonight." She keeps her voice low. "Are you ready?"
"Everyone keeps asking me that."
"Because you look terrified."
"Do I?"
"You're gripping that wine glass like it's a lifeline." She gently uncurls my fingers from the stem. "It's going to be fine, Iris. The magic knows what it's doing. Just trust it."
"Trust the magic. Right."
"And trust him. And trust yourself." She squeezes my arm. "You've done harder things than this."
I'm not sure that's true, but I appreciate the sentiment.
Dinner is served at seven, and I take my place at the head of the table with Cadeon at the foot.
Sixty guests fill the seats between us, a mix of mages and familiars that represents every bond style imaginable.
Some sit close to each other, hands intertwined.
Others maintain careful distance. One familiar stares at his plate with the hollow expression I remember from Cadeon's early days.
The food is excellent, if I say so myself.
Roast beef that melts on the tongue, root vegetables glazed with honey and herbs, bread that fills the room with warmth and comfort.
My magic hums through every dish, and I can feel it working.
Settling into people. Easing old tensions. Opening hearts just a little.
Magnus, seated near the middle of the table, takes a bite of the special soup I included as a first course. I watch his face go through a complicated series of expressions before settling on grudging approval.
Thea catches my eye from across the table and grins.
The hours pass faster than I expect. Conversation flows easily, helped along by the wine and my magic and the general relief that the solstice is finally here. Many of these mages have been struggling with weakening bonds for months. Tonight, one way or another, they'll have answers.
I try to stay present. Try to focus on my guests, on the success of the feast, on anything except the clock steadily ticking toward midnight.