And even though Xenia knew he didn’t want this, knew how much he’d prefer to beanywhereelse, her heart pummeled her ribs at the sight of him awaiting his bride.
“You High-Gods-damned moron,” she muttered. “Why,whydid you make that blood vow?”
She turned from the spectacle, then plopped into the leather desk chair and began rummaging through Arran’s drawers. She crowed victoriously when she found what she was looking for. Placing it atop the desk, she slipped the cuff onto her wrist and angled her head toward the window to see how the ceremony was progressing.
In the meantime, she tapped the cuff and sent one final message to a concerned, frantic, and ultimately, relieved Leonard.
Then awaited her cue.
“In times like these,one thing is more important than all else. Family.”
Cael fought an urge to roll his eyes as Arran began the final of the parents’ four speeches.
Phidion’s had been bawdy, Zosime’s teary-eyed, and Petra’s sincere. His mother’s words were heartfelt, genuine, and contained a few nuggets of wisdom about how to maintain a centuries-long commitment to a single person.
The foundation, she insisted, was to never take one’s vows for granted. To show up, always, with empathy and curiosity. To fall in love with every new version of one’s spouse.
The entire audience was in tears by the end. Cael nearly had been as well. For the wrong reasons. All he could think was howmuch he wanted that with someoneotherthan the female beside him, whose eyes remained dry.
He also wondered how in the name of Stygios Arran had convinced Petra to marry him in the first place. And how the fuck had he been able to keep her all these years? Did Arran doanyof what Petra had just said?
Cael’s cynical side thought maybe his mother hadn’t meant any of it. More pretty lies for an ugly day.
He turned his attention back to Arran, who had climbed atop the altar.
“The bonds that created us, the bonds we were born with, the bonds we choose to forge. They are what matter most. And though there are forces in this world, especially now, attempting to break those bonds, if we stick by each other, honor the contracts we’ve made—” his eyes darted straight to Phidion, who nodded in recognition “—then we will all thrive.Together.”
As Arran continued his blowhard speech, Cael fantasized about slipping the ceremonial dagger from his father’s belt, plunging it into his back, and ending him right here, right now, in front of everyone.
His fingers twitched and he was about to reach for it when Arran turned, hauling Cael to his side. The side opposite the dagger.
“Cael, my son,” he said with false cheer. Cael wanted to punch the stupid grin off his fucking face. “Elodie is a wonderful female. I doubt you deserve her—” the crowd tittered “—but that’s the secret to a happy marriage. Wake up every day and assume you don’t. Then spend every single minute making it up to her.”
Petra blew a kiss from the front row as Arran winked at her.
The crowd laughed louder.
Cael was going to vomit.
Arran slapped him on the shoulder, staring him directly in the eyes. “Hopefully, she’ll be able to replace what you’ve lost.”
Cael didn’t know what Arran was talking about—his wing? Xenia? That empty pit that had been inside of him for centuries?
Either way, Cael heard the unspoken threat in his father’s words.
And to replace what you’ve still got to lose.
Arran retook his seat next to Petra, who placed their clasped hands in her lap. The two of them looked every inch the proud parents of the groom and Cael couldn’t fucking stomach it.
He turned back to Elodie, who was beaming at him, then took her hands as the priestess inched forward. She raised her arms at Cael and Elodie’s backs, encouraging them to step into one another. “Gathered frien?—”
“May I say something?” Elodie’s soft voice cut in.
Wrinkles of confusion lined the smooth brown skin of the priestess’s forehead, but she bowed her head and took a step back.
Cael scanned both families, found questioning looks on their faces as well.
Then he glanced at Erik.
