“Ready?” Gramlithyn asked.
Pyxlevir grinned. “Are you kidding? I’ve been ready since I was six.”
With a chuckle, they stepped out of the memorial area of the expansive D’Vaire garden. Pyxlevir’s joy grew as he took in the swags of zebra-printed fabric and blue beads strewn from the deck to the gazebo. But before they could make the walk to their spot to begin the ceremony, they found a unique elven hybrid with bold white streaks through his black hair. The gold beads his mate had decorated his tresses with glittered in the bright sun.
His Majesty, Emperor Ellery Draconis, stepped in to block their path. “Your parents tasked me with the responsibility of holding on to your memorial beads during your ceremony,” the dragon-elf confided.
“Thanks, Elf, we appreciate it,” Pyxlevir said as he carefully lifted the long strings of beads from around his neckand handed them to the co-ruler of the Council. Next to him, Gramlithyn did the same.
“It is my pleasure. Congratulations on your matebond. It has been an honor to watch you two grow into such wonderful young men, and Fate has chosen well for you both,” Ellery commented.
Pyxlevir hugged Ellery and thanked him again. Ellery embraced Gramlithyn next, then rushed off to his seat next to his other half, Chrysander.
“Okay, super ready now?” Gramlithyn teased.
“Yes, before someone else shows up and my heart explodes with either embarrassment from all these compliments or happiness.”
Gramlithyn chuckled, and they glanced at each other. A second later, they took off running toward the fountain where their officiant awaited them. It wasn’t easy sprinting in heavy clothes, and Pyxlevir had short legs, so he wasn’t surprised that he lost the race.
“Should I ask?” Timotheus queried.
In the many ceremonies Pyxlevir had attended at D’Vaire, the couple in question were almost always united by the High Kings. Pyxlevir adored Aleksander and Rafe, but he wanted to ensure that his centaur heritage wasn’t lost on his mating day and had asked for his uncle to act as their celebrant.
Aleksander and Rafe had championed the idea, and Pyxlevir was happy they could relax and enjoy the festivities from the comfort of their front row seats. The pair were probably thrilled for the rare opportunity to spectate instead of standing in front of everyone and dumping compliments on the heads of whoever Fate had blessed.
“Better not to,” Pyxlevir replied.
“Okay, should we get started?” Timotheus asked, his brown gaze dancing with humor.
“Yep, Pyx and I have waited long enough,” Gramlithyn responded.
Timotheus smiled as Pyxlevir turned to face Gramlithyn.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the High Draconis Court of D’Vaire,” Timotheus said. “Thank you for allowing me to usurp your High Kings today to perform this ceremony. It is one of the greatest honors in my life to stand here in front of this crowd of incredibly wonderful people—our entire extended D’Vaire family—to unite our dear Gramlithyn and Pyxlevir. I had the distinct pleasure of meeting Pyxlevir and Gramlithyn when they were just six years old. We all knew they would grow into remarkable young men. Their potential was obvious. So was their friendship. Fate saw it too. Or perhaps she ensured they complemented each other prior to their first meeting. Either way, there is no denying their connection. To start the matebond that will unite them for eternity, we’ll begin with the most ancient custom. Fifteen thousand years ago, elves did not exist. They were Fae, and their other halves were calledv’airsell niolls, which translates to eternal souls. A fitting description for the person who completes you. Among the Fae, it is traditional to offer a gift. I would like to ask the leaders of the Fae and a devoted pair ofv’airsell niolls, Noble Protector Drekkoril D’Vaire and Valiant Defender Daravius D’Vaire, to join us.”
Resplendent in Fae outfits in cream and black, Daravius and Drekkoril walked up to Gramlithyn and Pyxlevir with a statue in their hands. There was no question that it was magical. It featured a Gramlithyn’s zebra mid-stride so he floated above the grassy earth beneath him. Pyxlevir sat in his current outfit, perched atop Gramlithyn with a set of nearly translucent fairy wings sprouting from his back and sparkling in the sunlight.
“On behalf of the Fae, we offer you happiness and joy,” Drekkoril said, handing the statue to Dasan, who would hold it for safekeeping until after the ceremony.
“Thank you so much,” Gramlithyn replied before Pyxlevir could even find his tongue. He’d make sure the masterpiece created by the Fae had a prominent spot in their bedroom, and he planned to hug them enthusiastically as soon as he could. The Fae leaders smiled, and they walked away with Dasan between them.
“Elevsale rensarelis a long-standing elven tradition where relatives offer wreaths to the happy couple,” Timotheus said. “Killian the Dwyer and Drindyr Duke Dravyn D’Vairedraconis have designed the floral circlets specifically for Gramlithyn and Pyxlevir. Chieftain Cadlyr Cwylld D’Vaire and Chieftain-mate Evlithar Cwylld-D’Vaire will assist with placing them.”
Pyxlevir grinned as Evlithar approached him with a wreath of carrot flower blooms. Several long zebra-striped ribbons flowed from the circlet, and Pyxlevir loved it. He waited patiently for Evlithar to rest it on his braided hair, then hugged him. Gramlithyn winked at Pyxlevir once he’d embraced Cadlyr and had his own wreath resting on his short tresses.
“An athame is an integral part of any matebond ceremony, and the gifted Madeline D’Vairedraconis ensured Gramlithyn and Pyxlevir have a unique blade they can treasure for eternity,” Timotheus said as Pyxlevir’s Uncle Tyndarios stalked forward with a box bearing a blue blade with a zebra-print hilt.
“Gramlithyn and Pyxlevir, will you please raise your left hands?” Timotheus asked.
Eager to comply, Pyxlevir lifted his arm, and Aristos took the ceremonial dagger out of the wooden box Tyndarios held. It hadn’t been easy to decide which of their parents would do the mating cuts and who’d do the ones for their upcoming marks from Fate, so they’d tossed a coin.
The slice to Pyxlevir’s palm hurt like hell, but he breathed through the pain as he waited for Kalthekor to finish cutting Gramlithyn. They gently touched palms, and Pyxlevir closed his eyes as the image of his soul nearly binding completely to Gramlithyn’s filled him with warmth.
A heartbeat later, a sharp pain ripped through the top of his left ear and the same side of his face burned. Pyxlevir watched with delight as a swirl of dark green and navy appeared on Gramlithyn’s cheek. It perfectly matched the hoop Fate had pierced through his ear.
Later that night, their bond would be completed with a zebra bite, but Pyxlevir was already relieved to be that much closer to his other half and that their marks were unique to them.
“Valzadari to Verdanyth-Hippotigris. Their souls are now tied, and their lives are now linked. May their hearts always stay united so they will never want another,” Timotheus said. “To honor the traditions of D’Vaire and of shifters, Gramlithyn and Pyxlevir will exchange rings crafted for them by Madeline D’Vairedraconis.”
