51 Until the Void takes me #2
She considered the clean lines of his jaw, the breadth of his shoulders, the tease of clavicle beneath his open collar.
“Keen,” she said. “Handsome.” Lower. “Like I could cut my teeth on you.”
A growl rumbled his chest. He stepped closer, near enough to brush his hip to hers, a tease of ozone on her tongue. She felt the arc of his tail around her. Felt the thrill in her heart as he leaned in.
A clawed thumb traced her cheek, reverent. Sharp enough to skin her alive.
Then, an arched brow at the circlet atop her head.
He laughed. “Of course. You can’t half-ass anything, can you?”
“Why should you be the only one with fun head accessories?” she taunted. Softer, she cupped his cheek, letting her fingers drift into the shorn sides of his hair.
A frown touched his lips.
“You’re certain of this?” he whispered. “A lifetime with a beast?”
Fi grinned back with all her teeth. “Please. If you can endure spending your life with a beast, I can handle one daeyari.”
His grin was fit to devour, all fangs and blushed lips.
He held out a hand. “Ready?”
Fi had never been ready for any of this, had she? She’d learned how to tip her chin up and put on a brave face. She’d learned how to act like the fiercest creature in any battle. Sometimes, she was. Sometimes, she was still a little terrified of the unknowns ahead.
But this one thing, she knew with unflinching certainty.
Fi curled her fingers in Antal’s palm. “On your lead, Lord Daeyari.”
He growled deeper. “Not often I enjoy hearing you say that.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t be leading later. Where it matters.”
A huff. “We’ll see.”
Hand-in-hand, they approached a large double door. A murmur of voices drifted from the other side. Fi gathered her nerves.
They entered the ballroom, the largest chamber in the capitol building.
The space was built to impress: metallic copper paneling gleamed starburst patterns across the walls and framed each tall window, a floor of polished hardwood, ceiling painted with starry sky and aurora.
For the occasion, strings of orb lights hung overhead like a thousand fireflies.
Thick splays of aromatic evergreen draped every pillar, interwoven with snowy white flowers.
The crowd was, frankly, absurd.
Kashvi had opened the invitation to the entire city, and it seemed much of the city had filled the massive room. The din of conversation was thunderous.
Then a ripple of quiet, as Fi and Antal appeared. The couple walked forward together.
Fionamara Kolbeck had grown up in the shadow of daeyari teeth.
As a child, she’d been pledged to Verne like prized cattle, helpless to do anything but flee into the Winter forest. Last year, she’d been dragged to Antal’s shrine like a lame hare, snared into a fight that had felt impossibly bigger than her.
Now, she stood as tall as the immortal on her arm, Void ether woven into her skin, not a shred of fear left in her heart.
The crowd parted to let them pass. Most weddings, Fi imagined, didn’t draw so many odd looks, guests craning their necks in curiosity and awe, the citizens of Thomaskweld watching their Lord Daeyari hand-in-hand with a mortal.
They stared at Fi, this human perfectly at ease beside a beast—at her eye glowing silver with captured immortality.
When she’d first stepped into this role, Fi hadn’t been sure what she was. A piece that didn’t fit their worlds. An oddity.
Now, she wore her mantles with pride. Voidwalker. Sunsplitter. Something new entirely.
Antal led her onto a raised dais in the center of the room.
There, she caught sight of more red eyes.
A contingent of daeyari stood separate from the human guests.
Of course there was Ixli, Syvr, Yme, all beaming from the front row.
But also Qirza, wearing a magnanimous grin and a kickass silver cape.
A dozen more territory lords and council members milled behind, drawn by curiosity to see a daeyari and human bonded. Antal had turned none of them away.
The crowd fell silent as Fi and Antal faced each other on the dais.
Merciless Void, he was a stunning creature. A snare Fi had never stood a chance of escaping, yet now, his lidded gaze stoked her with a new kind of heat, a warmth even endless Winter couldn’t quench.
She raised a small glass capsule, pressed between two fingers. Antal gripped the capsule with her, clawed fingers filling the spaces between hers. As she spoke, her eyes never left his.
“Antal, Lord Daeyari of Thomaskweld. I vow, before all who bear witness today, to give you my heart, my love, my life. From now, until the Void takes me.”
A smirk curved Antal’s mouth. He held out a second glass capsule, and they each took it in their other hand, fingers interwoven.
“Fionamara Kolbeck, esteemed Void smuggler. Collector of antlers.”
Fi scrunched her mouth. Ok. She hadn’t realized they were doing those kinds of titles.
“I vow, before all who bear witness today, to give you my heart” —lower, with the tiniest shrug—“what I have of one, at least.”
She resisted the urge to pinch him.
“My love,” he continued. “My life. From now, until the Void takes me.” Again, lower, just for her, “Not that the Void has ever stopped you.”
Fi maintained her glower, but secretly preened at the addendum.
Vows complete, she Shaped a current down her arms, feeding energy into both capsules. Antal replied with his own current, containers mixed with silver and crimson, swirling as one.
They each took a capsule. Arms wove together as they slipped their energy-filled vials onto silver chains, Fi fastening one around Antal’s neck. His knuckles brushed fondly against her throat as he fastened hers.
“Ezria,” he whispered, and she could listen to him call her that a thousand times.
“Ezeri,” Fi purred back, a word he’d never taught her—but Void, it had been worth begging Syvr for the lesson, just to see the stunned look on Antal’s face, the way his eyes burned with ravenous intent.
She laughed and kissed him, slow to savor the moment, the cheers of the crowd a distant background as his arms twined around her waist, and his mouth claimed her as his own.
Music swelled to fill the ballroom: horns, drums, clarinet, so bright and bold they burrowed into Fi’s ribs.
Antal pulled her onto the dance floor, straight into a twirl.
Fi supposed she could let him lead a little longer.
They both fell into the rhythm, the same way they’d first come together in Fi’s cabin all those months ago.
This daeyari had surprised her then, how well he led, how well the two of them moved as one.
When Antal spun her, Fi’s dress flared in crimson and starlight.
When he tugged her close around the waist, all the world vanished beyond the curve of his grin.
Other guests joined the dance. Even the ballroom wasn’t large enough to hold them all, doors thrown open so the crowd could spill into the capitol plaza, frosted cobblestone overhung with energy lamps and standing heaters.
When Fi tired of dancing, the smell of food drew her outside, caterers gathered from all over the city.
There were pastries with custard filling and honey glaze.
Roasted aurorabeast. Mulled wine that warmed Fi’s stomach.
Kashvi and Syvr argued over a pot of daeyari coffee that Fi had finally secured a supply line for, the wary onlookers thawing with intrigue.
In the sea of faces, Fi locked eyes with Clarence, her offering a grateful smirk, him returning a toast of his glass.
The owner of Fi’s favorite soup shop pressed a steaming mug into her hands, entreating her not to catch a cold again.
Antal’s tailor preened over his jacket, proudly pointing out the details to all who’d listen.
At the edge of the plaza, Iliha oversaw a group of children feeding fish to Aisinay.
Skin cool, cheeks flushed, Fi waded through the crowd with arm locked around Antal’s, marveling.
It didn’t feel like just a wedding. The night felt like the city was alive. Their city, their people, come together to fend off the cold.
The visiting daeyari kept to themselves, observing the revel with fascination. Fi accompanied Antal as he personally thanked each one for their attendance, balancing two worlds with a diplomacy he was already getting better at.
“Hardly a celebration,” one of the older councilors muttered, “without a proper meal…”
“Lyve, my friend!” Fi spoke with slicing enthusiasm, draping one arm fondly over the daeyari’s shoulders. He stared at her in shock, but she only grinned. “Have you tried the human coffee? I’m sure you’ll love it.”
Fi could have sworn she heard Qirza laugh into her mug.
The hour grew late. Fi had detached herself from Antal to pull Aisinay back from the mulled wine casks, when a prickle went down her neck. Syvr stood beside her, grin mischievous.
A new thrill stirred Fi’s chest, another mix of anticipation and nerves.
“Ready?” she whispered.
“Whenever you are, Voidwalker.”
Syvr was gone by the time she turned. Fi waded through the crowd until she found Antal.
“Come with me,” she whispered so low, lips so close to his ear, he’d never refuse.
Fi led the way this time, pulling Antal behind her, away from the celebration and into the quiet halls of the capitol building.