Chapter thirty-two
Eisa
“Perfect,” Amaya squealed, placing a final sprig of baby’s breath into the braids she had woven around the crown of my head. “You look like the Hearthmother herself, marrying the Horned God.”
I inspected my hair in the mirror and had to admit that it looked lovely. I had wanted to leave it all down, but Sigrid had insisted it should be special, and Amaya had jumped at the chance to assist.
“The Hearthmother is married?” I asked, meeting Amaya’s eyes in the mirror.
“Oh yes,” Amaya nodded enthusiastically as she fluffed the bottom section of my hair, which was hanging loosely over my shoulders. “The Horned God is her consort, though most humans don’t know about him. The Hearthmother is their patron goddess, after all.”
“There is a whole pantheon of gods and goddesses the humans don’t bother with,” Sigrid added from her place on the bed. We were in Amaya’s dormitory for reasons that both priestesses had been extremely vague about. “To be fair, they don’t care much for the humans either.”
I frowned, wondering how much more there was to this world than I knew. Perhaps if we managed to close the Rift, I could explore it.
When, Idunn corrected. She yawned, bored with the proceedings. Why are we doing this again?
Because we love our mate? I suggested, frowning at the wording. Mates? Anyway, it’s a human custom.
You are already soul-bound for life. It seems silly to tie a string around your hands and declare it to be so. I doubt Kindra will tolerate such absurdity.
Arik had only just revealed that Arne had found our reirhold, and that, somehow, he would be Revna’s mate.
I chuckled, trying to picture Revna putting up with Arne’s particular brand of charm. She’s going to eat him alive.
Probably, Idunn agreed. Especially if he suggests such silliness.
I am excited, Baldur declared. He had been incredibly invested in the floral arrangements. Human customs are strangely fascinating.
I suppose it won’t be all bad, Idunn huffed, nuzzling up next to him in my mind.
We won’t lose him again, I soothed, trying to ease some of her anxiety.
You will not, Baldur agreed. Now that I know the scent of the bad plant.
Mistletoe. I laughed.
Both Idunn and Baldur growled, and I threw up my hands in defeat.
Let them get lost in each other. I intended to do the same with Arik as soon as the handfasting was complete, especially now that Sigrid’s tea was at work.
There was very little blood remaining, and based on last night, I didn’t think Arik would mind a little mess.
I do not. Arik’s voice was a sensual purr as it filtered through my mind, and I caught my face flushing in the mirror.
Stop snooping, I snapped.
Stop projecting. He sent me another mental image, far more lurid than the one he’d sent in the library, and it made my toes curl in the slightly too small leather slippers.
Do you have the Book? I knew Arik had tucked it safely away somewhere, but I felt unreasonably anxious about losing it.
It’s safely locked away in our room. Don’t fret, my love.
I blew out a breath, trying to focus my energies on my soon-to-be wedding. When I glanced up, both Amaya and Sigrid were looking at me expectantly in the reflection of the mirror. Sigrid was amused, but Amaya’s face was full of concern as she asked, “Eisa?”
“Sorry. Dragons.” I pointed to my head. Probably best not to mention Arik was in there, too. “They can be rather loud.”
Both dragons grumbled in indignant protest.
“I was asking if you are ready?” Amaya said, gesturing to the door. “I think everything is in place.”
I turned to Sigrid, who was leaning heavily on her cane. “Aren’t you performing the ceremony?” I’d assumed she would, as she was the oldest of the three priestesses.
“Freya will perform the ceremony. Too much talking.” Sigrid grimaced. “Anyway, I rather like the idea of being the one to give you away.”
My heart cracked a little. Other than my own mother, Sigrid was exactly the person I wanted walking by my side.
“Of course, Mormor.” I kissed the top of her white head, and she gave my arm a squeeze, turning to inspect me from head to toe.
My mother’s gown fit perfectly, the white lacing and antler belt bringing out the sparkling blue of the dress itself. Amaya had offered me a clean serk to wear beneath, and the fur shawl was the perfect weight to fight the chill in the stone sanctuary.
“One more thing,” Sigrid said, reaching for my neck. She tugged and pulled the Tear of Elysia free, so it rested against my heart. “Now you are perfect. Your mother would be proud, child.”
I swept Sigrid into a hug so firm that I lifted her off her feet for a moment.
She chuckled, patting my arm. “Yes, yes. I love you too, my Eisa. Now let’s go make sure this mate of yours plans to keep his promises.”
Amaya opened the door, and the transformation of the sanctum nearly took my breath away.
Twilight streamed through the enchanted reflecting pool above, casting the space in purples and pinks and fiery orange.
The once-bare stone walls were now crawling with flowering vines covered in tiny white star-shaped blossoms, and the path from the doorway was lit with hundreds of candles that flickered merrily as if beckoning me forward.
Freya was waiting under the beam of light cast from the pool above, and Arik stood beside her, his hands clasped behind his back, one booted foot tapping anxiously against the stone.
His hair was damp and freshly braided, the tattoos on his scalp glimmering slightly in the sunlight from above, and his beard was trimmed neatly along the square of his jaw.
He was still in his beaten-leather armor, now polished to a dull shine, and I knew that I would picture him this way for the rest of my days.
Tall and proud and strong. Bold and handsome.
Mine, Idunn purred.
Ours, I corrected, as his eyes met mine, silver flashing in their depths. He seemed to release a breath, as if he’d been holding it for the past several minutes, and that secret smile he reserved just for me curved one side of his mouth.
Kjaere. His tone was reverent as he took me in from head to toe. You look… He shook his head, and I felt Baldur’s rumbled laughter across our mental bridge. His eyes met mine, the silver brightening behind them as heat and desire rose in him. Radiant.
I blushed as Amaya skipped ahead to stand as a witness, but Sigrid continued her sedate pace forward.
“Slow, my dear,” she insisted, dragging me back when I tried to speed up. “You must keep him wanting a little. No need to give away the cart before the horse.”
“Mormor!” I hissed, half horrified and half amused. I didn’t feel brave enough to say that he’d already had the whole cart multiple times, but she chuckled as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.
There was no music, but it would have felt out of place in this holy sanctum. The faint sounds of the river and the birds above and the pounding of my heart in time with my mate’s were music enough.
“Who presents this woman to be handfasted?” Freya spoke, her tone as serious as if this were a funeral rite rather than a wedding.
“I do,” Sigrid announced, rising proudly to her full height, where everyone still towered over her. “Her grandmother.”
My heart lurched a little at the formal recognition of the role she had always played in my life.
“And do you grant your blessing for this woman to be given to this man?”
Sigrid grimaced. “I give permission for them to be wed. She’s not property, for Goddess’ sake. Do the modern version.”
I choked on a laugh as Freya sighed. She had obviously anticipated Sigrid’s commentary, and she flipped through several pages in the book she held before her.
“Very well. Then do you bless this union?” She bit out the words as if half expecting Sigrid to object again.
“I do.” Sigrid took my face between her hands and pressed a kiss to each cheek. She added, just for my ears, “With all my heart,” as she placed my hands in Arik’s and stepped back.
He looked down at me, silver eyes swirling as they met mine, and I knew that this was right.
Did you have any doubts? Arik laughed across my mind.
A bit late now, if I did.
He laughed out loud, and Freya cleared her throat, exasperation written all over her face.
“Apologies, priestess.” Arik bowed his head. “Please proceed.”
“Very well.” She sniffed, peering down at the book. “Is it your wish before the Hearthmother and these witnesses to declare your vows to one another?”
“It is.” Arik looked at me expectantly.
“It is,” I echoed, biting my lip to temper my grin. I didn’t need Freya thinking I was completely sacrilegious.
“Very well. Bring forth the cord.”
Sigrid appeared at my elbow and wrapped a braided cord around our joined hands. It looked like it had been woven from whatever the priestesses had at hand: a strip of blue shimmering robe, a strip of white linen, and a sprig of flowering vines like those that climbed the sanctum’s wall.
“Blue for loyalty and trust,” Sigrid murmured as she offered me a small smile.
“White for new beginnings.” A rare smile for Arik.
“And green for harmony with the Goddess.” She tapped our bound hands once, and I felt a jolt of something sizzle over my skin where we were bound.
“And a tap of magic for me. So that if you betray her, young man, your balls will shrivel up and fall off.”
“Sigrid!” Amaya and Freya cried out at the same time, Amaya in shock, and Freya in disgust.
But Arik and I laughed, and my heart melted as he bent to place a kiss atop her white head.
“There is no chance of that, Mormor.” He looked at me, his eyes molten. “I shall love her long after eternity claims us.”
Baldur growled in approval at this declaration, and even Idunn seemed moved by it, nestling more firmly into her mate’s side rather than making a sarcastic comment about human traditions.
“Hmmph.” Sigrid narrowed her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the grin. She turned to the beleaguered priestess and waved her on as she hobbled back toward Amaya, who was still gaping in horror. “Well, keep going, Freya. Why are you just standing there?”
Freya looked like she was praying to the Hearthmother for patience as she commanded, “Please repeat after me:”
We take this cord to bind our hands and our lives together.
We promise to stand by each other in all things.
To be a shield against the other’s storm.
May the Hearthmother give us wisdom to navigate our path together.
May She bless our union with strength and courage, passion and love.
After each line, we repeated the vows, Arik’s eyes holding mine the entire time. The air of amusement was gone, and I knew that the words were as important and sacred to him as they were to me.
“With this cord, your fates are woven as one,” Freya announced. She glanced at Sigrid, who was motioning for her to go on, then sighed heavily. “I suppose you may kiss your bride.”
Amaya cheered, and Sigrid clapped, both throwing flower petals over us as Arik leaned down and placed a far too chaste kiss against my lips.
That’s it? I complained.
He chuckled, leaning down to kiss me again. Our hands are still bound. I’ll kiss you properly when they’re free, wife.
My core heated as Freya joined in the celebration, half-heartedly throwing petals as Amaya produced several glasses of sparkling liquid. “Cheers to the happy couple!”
Perhaps we should have insisted that Amaya perform the handfasting, Arik said, as she adjusted the binding around our hands so that my left was held in his right.
“It’s tradition for you to be bound by at least one hand until…um, that is…” Amaya blushed furiously.
“Until he beds you,” Sigrid shouted helpfully, making Amaya’s face turn a deep shade of crimson.
Arik laughed, the sound full and unrestrained. “In that case.”
He handed his glass back to Amaya and scooped me into his arms as he caught my lips in a proper kiss.