Epilogue
Argos
Theora panted, sweaty and laughing, as she fell back against the soft grass. “I need to be able to walk down the aisle.”
“I can carry you,” said Argos, and he kissed her throat.
“That’s not how weddings work.”
Argos settled on top of his wife, ignoring her complaints of his weight as he rested his head on her stomach.
She didn’t mean a word of it, anyway, running her fingers through his hair as soon as he stilled.
Sex outside was his favorite kind of sex, especially in the golden light of an approaching sunset.
“Okay,” he said. “Walk me through it.”
“You stand at one end of the aisle,” she said, drawing circles on his scalp with her fingers, as if seducing him to sleep. “Boada will escort me to you, and then we’ll just repeat everything Apollo says.”
“Repeat what he says,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “Got it.”
“Well, not everything. Just the vows. And then sign your name on the marriage certificate.”
“And then we have more sex.”
The soothing massage halted as she laughed. “And then we have more sex. But first we have to get up and get married.”
Argos grinned. “Who else can say he got to marry the woman he loves twice?”
He could feel her blushing. “You’re heavy,” she said, trying to lift him to no avail.
“Fine. Getting up.”
Argos sat up, kneeling in the grass as he took in his surroundings.
Theora had chosen to have their wedding at the center of Aranea, where the silk grove grew.
Hanging leaves of sunset gold, teal, and pink brushed against him as they rocked in the breeze, their gentle glow casting color onto his face and white tunic.
He reached up, running the leaves through his hand. This place was…breathtaking. Unreal.
Proof that the Sovereign was a brilliant architect.
Argos would’ve married Theora the day they arrived back in Aranea, but business had to be tended to.
Venita was in custody, and had given up enough information to help locate more traitors.
With Pyre’s help, leads were being investigated, and Argos prayed to the Sovereign he could be there to hunt down every last one of them when the time came.
But his first priority was, as always, his wife.
“Our family will be waiting for us,” Theora said, wrapping her arms around him from behind and rubbing his abdomen in a way that told him exactly what she wanted to do while they waited.
“Oh, good,” he said, enjoying his wife’s girlish giggle as he quickly threw her over his shoulder. “Plenty of time for another orgasm.”
“Later, my love,” she said, patting his back as a signal to put her down. “I think I’ve gotten more than enough grass stains on my white dress.”
“We could stand beneath a green silk tree,” he suggested. “No one will notice the stains under the glow.”
“Green?” She adjusted the halter neck of her dress, turning to allow her husband to drool over the plunging open back if he wished. “How ordinary.”
They took hands, walking through the jewel-toned light of the trees, leaves brushing them as they went, until they stepped out of the trees into a grassy clearing.
There, Boada and Apollo stood waiting beneath a golden tree, holy book in his hand.
When he saw them he gave them a wide, fangy smile, but Boada looked more like she might cry.
“Your Grace,” said Apollo with a small bow. “You look…”
“Grass-stained?” Theora volunteered with a raise of her brow.
He gave her a fond grin. “Happy.”
“I would say this is better than one of my novels,” said Boada, “except I’m about to lose one of my best Warriors to the biggest brat in the world.”
Theora raised a brow. “Very nice, Boada.”
“She’s right,” said Argos, squeezing his wife closer. “I can’t go back to the barracks ever again. Efficiency is going to go way down.”
Theora rolled her eyes. “You’re both insufferable.”
“I assume,” interjected Apollo, “that you’ll have a public ceremony after this one. You know the people love a good royal wedding.”
“Yes, eventually,” said Theora. “The only tricky part will be incorporating the wedding at the same time as Argos’s coronation.”
Argos glanced at both Apollo and Boada to see if they looked as confused as he felt. They did. “Coronation?”
“Of course,” Theora said, as if she’d stated something as simple as the color of the sky. “I’m reinstating all royal titles—so, Apollo, you’ll be known as a prince from now on. And what’s more fitting than for the husband of the queen to be king? Enough of this consort nonsense.”
Apollo looked a bit concerned. “It’s not really something that’s done.”
“In recent history,” said Argos. “In the founding of this colony, queens had kings, and Warriors were treated with respect. I much prefer those traditions to the ones we were raised on.”
Theora smiled. She smiled so often now, and it was beautiful. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“And honestly,” added Boada, “word has gotten out that the queen is with a Warrior, and the reactions are surprisingly positive. Not a hundred percent by a long shot, but the younger generation in particular are all for it.”
Theora looked at Argos, and there was no denying the love in her eyes. “Well, all who oppose will just have to get over it.”
“Those are my genes talking,” Boada said with a proud grin.
“Now, if you don’t mind,” said Theora, “I think it’s about time the two of us got married.”
“Again,” said Argos, and kissed his wife for what felt like the millionth time…which he knew would turn into innumerable times in no time at all.
Because she was his and he was hers. Forever.
And, for one perfect moment, that was all that mattered.