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Now, with the immediate crisis over, and Myst still in hiding, my new life was staring me in the face. I imagined Rhiannon was feeling the same way. I missed her being near. Missed Peyton and Luna, who were staying at the Veil House, with plenty of guards patrolling the borders.
Grieve entered the room as I slid from beneath the covers, yawning and stretching. He glanced at my legs, then at my thighs where the bruises were fading. After a moment, he motioned for Druise to leave the room and crossed over to sit next to me.
Silent, I brought my knees up, wrapping my arms around them, careful not to jar the flaking skin on my shins. I waited.
“I told you, not long ago, that I realized that someday you might end up bedding the vampire, and that I would accept it if necessary. When I saw you bleeding…the blood—there was so much blood coming so fast that I knew the only way to save you was to let you go into his arms.”
I pressed my lips together, nodding.
“And once you drank his blood, I knew the Blood Fever would catch you up.” He paused. “I don’t care what happened between you. I see the bruises on your thighs, but I hear a new respect in your voice for Altos, so I can only pray that he didn’t put you through hell.”
I stared at my feet. Lannan had been rough, but I had needed it rough—hard and wild and feral and without any prettiness attached to it. That was who Lannan was, and that was the part of me who used to be Cherish coming through.
“He gave me what only he could give that night. What I would never want from you, because it’s not who you are. What he gave me wasn’t love, Grieve. It was raw release. It was…freedom. But the trouble with freedom? There isn’t much to lose if you don’t have anything—or anyone—to protect.” I glanced at him then, and he opened his arms and I slid into them.
His lips sought mine, and then we were on the bed, and he was running his hands over my body, kissing me deep. The passion between us flared, not sweet, not romantic, but sensuous and dark and deeper than any connection I had ever known. Grieve was my heart-mate; Grieve was my prince. Flawed, the Wounded King, and yet he was my everything.
I pulled him to me, opened my legs, invited him into the depths of my body, and we moved in unison, with him riding me hard, insistent. He reclaimed me, laid his mark on me, and in turn I covered his face with kisses, drank deep from his well, reveled in his cock that drove ever deeper into my cunt. We were a fit, we were, and our bodies knew it as well as our souls.
As we renewed our bond, my thoughts quieted themselves, and for the first time in days, I felt at home.
The court was gorgeous, lit with the Ice Elemental lanterns, a swath of indigo and silver curtains and drapes lining the wall. And, to honor Rhiannon and Chatter—panels of green and gold. The entire court of the Marburry Barrow had crowded in to join us in celebrating our double wedding, since the Court of Snow and Ice had a much bigger throne room. The Wilding Fae were also here, and everyone was decked out in colorful costumes that marked their connection to the realms of Summer and Winter.
I stood in my chamber, along with Rhiannon, as our lady’s maids dressed us. Our wedding gowns had come in on time and fit perfectly.
As Druise slid the sheath over my head, the wash of pale gray chiffon and lace floated down to my ankles. I was wearing a silver corset beneath it, form-fitting and snug. The brilliant splash of the royal blue straps set off the gown perfectly, and the matching sash fit snugly around my waist. As Druise fastened the train to my dress, then helped ease my circlet with the veil attached onto my head, the change in my eye color still struck me. I no longer just lived in the frost-ridden land, I was part of it.
I turned to Rhiannon, a vision in gold and green, and held out my hands. “Amber and jet.”
“Fire and ice.” We stood for a moment, no more words necessary. We had come through hell for this moment, and now we were here. Somehow, this seemed to cement matters more than even our initiations.
“I just wish Lainule could be here.” I stared around the room. This was my home. This was my life from now on. What a long and twisted route it had been since my mother first swept me away from the Veil House.
“I wish my mother could be here,” Rhia said softly. “I suppose this means…we’ve grown up. We’re on our own now.”
There was no more to say, which was probably good, because at that moment, Peyton and Luna entered the room. Peyton was dressed in royal blue, Luna in rich summer green. They looked at us, both smiling for a change, though the past weeks had worn thin on all of us.
Check and several of the guards were outside the door to escort us down in their dress uniforms. We moved silently, solemnly, through the crowded halls of revelers who could not fit in the throne room but wanted a vision of the Queens of Winter and Summer as we passed by.
The crowd was held back by guards, and as we glided through the halls, they moved in a collective bow-and-curtsey. As we waved to them, I felt odd, not at all excited like I imagined I would if I ever got married. I’d always pictured a small wedding, maybe by a brook, or the side of the ocean…not all this pageantry and pomp. But it was what it was, and I was marrying Grieve, and Rhia would marry Chatter, and we would serve our people as best as we could.
We entered the throne room, and near my throne, the Elder Shamans from both of our realms waited, side by side. Grieve was to the left, Chatter to the right, and the looks on their faces washed away the melancholy feel that had crept over me. They were there, waiting for us, ready to spend their lives with us.
Grieve, magnificent in his black tunic and pants, with a long silver cape flowing behind him and platinum hair that fell softly, loosely around his shoulders, kept his gaze on me as I processed down the aisle, the starry night of his eyes shining. And Chatter, in gold and brown, watched Rhia with the same devotion.
We approached the altar and the Shamans began the ceremony, which lasted late into the night, the exchanging of promises to guard and to love winding their way through the midnight hours. As befitting the Fae, there were no promises of sexual fidelity—but of heart-connection and honor and respect and duty.
In the crowd, Kaylin and Ysandra sat, watching, and Lannan and Regina were there, representing the Vampire Nation. The Consortium had not gotten back to us, yet, and I was ready to write them off if they weren’t going to do any better than they had when we’d gone to them for help.
I made my vows—to honor, to love, to respect, to cherish—quietly, simply, and with all my heart. At one point, I glanced to the side. Lannan was staring at me, his face a blank mask, and I could not read what he was feeling, but it didn’t matter. I turned back to my future as Grieve took his place as my husband. After the vows were sealed, Grieve and Chatter were crowned as Kings of the Realms, and then it was done, and we were married, and the party began.
Late, late into the night, I slipped from the revelries and wandered outside. The moon was high, it was clear and icy, and the snow-covered land sparkled with frost and brilliance. A cold fire spread through my heart. This…this was all mine to command, and yet I felt so insignificant.
Was I ready? Could I handle this?
Within the space of a month, I’d uprooted my transient lifestyle, staked my aunt as she begged for release, learned to murder and kill, found my father and lost him again, and now…now I was the Queen of Snow and Ice, married to my love who had been with me through lifetimes. The future stretched in front of me, unending and relentless, but I welcomed it—welcomed the challenge.
Ulean swept around me, gusting gently. You are ready for this, Cicely. You are ready.
