NINETY-NINE
CAZ
I stand a short distance from the shore, nervous as ever. The sound of crashing ocean waves blends with the ballad of string instruments from the band.
I study the guests in their seats, many of them from different territories.
Alora and her closest Vanorians, along with a handful of Gilded.
Hannie is amongst them, though she’s not here as one of Alora’s visitors. Last I heard, she called off the wedding shortly after the war. She’s come today as Killian’s plus one.
Devlin and a date from the Turi Tribe are here.
Hale from Whisper Grove, his wife, and a few soldiers.
My commanders of Blackwater and their wives are seated, as well as a few of our well-known merchants, gunsmiths, and blacksmiths.
Paulina, one of my barkeepers from Blackwater Tavern, is here as well as Simpson, who will be officiating the wedding.
Then there is my Blackwater Clan.
Killian and Rowan stand to my left, dressed head to toe in black. Their suits are crisp, not a smudge on their shoes.
Maeve and Juniper stand the opposite way in gold gowns. Willow’s excitable maid of honor, Faye, is with them.
And I can’t forget Silvera and Cerberus. They sit on either side of the altar, facing the guests like guardians. Juniper clipped a silver bowtie on Cerberus’s chest while Silvera has a bow on top of her head.
I look at the front row where Hassha, the twins, and Milandra are seated. Hassha offers a small bow of her head and a smile. I return the gesture.
When she looks away, I can’t help thinking that if my mother were alive, she’d be in the front row too, smiling proudly at me.
The thought causes a squeeze in my chest. I clear my throat, focusing on the aisle. She’s with me still. She’d be more than proud.
“I’ve just received word that the bride is ready,” Simpson says to the crowd. “Will everyone please rise?”
As all rise, a flash of silver appears at the end of the aisle, and it steals my focus away.
No. She steals my breath away.
Willow appears in a silvery tulle gown with black embellishments. The sleeves are sheer, and though the dress is lovely, it’s no comparison to her beauty.
Her irises are lit gold, burning like the sun, her white hair capturing remnants of sunlight before the sun itself can descend beneath the horizon.
The guest coo and awe, but I’m speechless, my throat thickening as her eyes latch with mine. She holds her bouquet of black and gold flowers before her, sashaying ahead as two Kessel women carry the train of her dress. On her head is the crown I gifted her, glinting in the sun.
My word. Never in my life have I been struck with such magnificence. Never in my life have I felt so much joy than watching the woman of my dreams, the woman I never expected, walking my way. Knowing she is for me and only me… fuck .
I can’t believe this life—this good life—is mine.
When Willow is near, I can hear my pulse swimming in my ears. She steps up the stairs, and I offer a hand to her, to which a coy smile stretches across her ruby lips.
“Willow,” I breathe. The words don’t come out. I can’t seem to find them.
She taps her temple.
I relax a bit, smiling. After spending every day with her and talking late into the night about any and everything, sometimes I forget the telepathy can work in our favor for moments like this.
You are absolutely gorgeous. I never want to look away from you.
So don’t. Stay right here with me.
I take her hands in mine just as Simpson steps closer to us, greeting the audience with a proud grin. He speaks, but all his words go in one ear and out the other as I look at the woman about to become my wife.
Her crown is firmly planted on her head, her jewelry made of silver and rubies. Her eyeshadow is a striking silver too, and the gold halos in her eyes fade, revealing the natural brown I love waking up to.
I’ve never been more in love.
One of her cheeks quirks up when she hears me.
Willow shares her vows first, and I feel her heart beating like a bird trapped in a cage. I feel the love bursting inside her with each tender word, as well as the hope. Each sentence she shares makes my eyes water enough for a tear to slide down my cheek.
She wipes it away with the pad of her thumb, and when Simpson declares it my turn to share vows, I take the floor.
“Willow, when we first met, I had no clue what to expect from you. Do you remember?” I ask, laughing. She giggles and nods. “You could read me like a book, and to me, that meant you were an enemy. But I was a fool. Of course I was because from the moment I met you, I felt a profound connection that instantly stole my breath away. I didn’t show it then, but trust me, it happened, and I was terrified of that feeling.
“I should’ve known an enemy could never make me feel that way though. Someone who understands me, is patient with me, who adores me despite my downfalls. You’ve seen corners of my mind that no one has ever witnessed or would even survive, and yet you’re still here, loving me, choosing me, being here for me.
“I know I don’t deserve your love, and I especially didn’t deserve it back then. I was a man of nightmares and terrors, and there you were, this ball of cloudy sunshine trying to share what was left of your light with me.”
Tears slide down her cheeks, but she keeps her eyes on mine, her mouth quivering.
“I’m not a man of many words, and this whole romance thing is new to me,” I go on, “but you should know that you will always be my mate, my queen, my best friend, my confidant, my entire world, and someone I would literally move mountains for. Willow, I stand before you a man who was unworthy in the eyes of many, but one look into your eyes and I felt like a king. One look in your eyes and nothing else mattered but your happiness and keeping you safe.
“I have gone to war for you and believe me, I’d do it again and again if it meant saving you. I haven’t felt joy like this in so long, not since I was a boy, and it’s my goal to always feel this with you in this life and whatever life comes after. It’s my goal to paint a smile on your face, even when I’m stubborn and you’re angry. I love you more than all the universes combined, Willow Woman. The words I’m using now aren’t nearly enough to describe the affections I carry in my heart for you. Thank you for being the one to cure my pain. Thank you for making me the happiest man in this universe.”
She hiccups a sob and I step closer, cupping the back of her head and kissing her forehead. When the wedding bands are brought forward and settled on both our fingers, Simpson clasps his hands together and pronounces us husband and wife.
Our loved ones cheer, but we can’t look anywhere else but at each other.
“ My wife ,” I rasp on her lips.
And then I kiss her. I wrap my arms around her waist as she drapes hers around my neck, and the sound of fireworks pops around us.
She pulls back, breathless as she watches red sparks ignite the sky. My fireworks boom and fizzle for her. Another gift she deserves.
Her forehead presses to mine. “I love you, Caspian Harlow.”
“My love for you knows no bounds, Mrs. Harlow.”
I bring her close and kiss her again.
I don’t know what will come of this life we share, but as long as I have her—as long as I can feel her skin on mine and listen to her heart beat every single night—it’s more than enough.
Even if all these powers were stripped from us right now but our mind and bodies remained, I wouldn’t care. She’s worth more than the power, the energy, and the status.
She will always be mine, and that alone makes me the strongest, luckiest man in every realm.