Page 65 of On Broken Bonds

For one impossible moment, I almost run to them. Then I realize I'm standing at the front of the church. And I'm not alone. Three men stand beside me. Talon. Fenric. Thorian.

The sight should feel strange. Me getting married? Being in love?

Instead, it feels strangely natural.

Talon stands to my left, dressed entirely in black. His blue eyes never leave me. There's amusement in his expression, but something deeper too. Something possessive and knowing that makes warmth creep beneath my skin.

Fenric stands on my right. He looks exactly as he always does when he smiles at me, warm, open and kind. The look in his eyes is filled with affection so genuine that my chest aches. He appears almost overwhelmed, as though he can't quite believe he's standing here.

And behind me stands Thorian. He’s close enough that I can feel his presence without even looking at him. He radiates the sort of certainty I've spent my entire adult life craving.

My pulse pounds harder. The bells continue ringing. Nobody seems confused. Nobody seems surprised.

Not even me.

The three of them are looking at me as though they're waiting for something. Waiting for me to make a choice. Or perhaps waiting for me to realize there isn't one.

For a brief moment, I have the strange certainty that if I reached out my hand, all three of them would take it.

The thought should terrify me.

Instead, it fills me with a sense of peace so profound that tears sting my eyes.

For years, I've carried everything alone. My parents' deaths. The estate. Lyra. The endless responsibility of being the strong one. The capable one. The person everyone else could depend on.

But standing here, surrounded by warmth and affection and impossible devotion, that burden finally begins to lift. I don't feel alone. I don't feel afraid. I don't feel responsible for holding up the entire world.

I feel loved. Protected. Chosen. The feeling is so overwhelming that my chest aches with it.

Then the church bells ring again. Louder this time. The sound crashes through the dream like a hammer striking glass. Cracks spread through the sunlight. The stained glass windows fracture. The church begins to dissolve around me. Faces blur. Colors smear together.

My parents disappear first. Then the church. Then the men.

The bells ring one final time.

When I wake up, it’s with a gasp loud enough to startle the two bodies next to me. Thorian, who’s spooning me, jerks and reaches for his sword, and in front, Fenric jerks, turning and throwing his arm over my body, his sleepy eyes blinking up at the dim light above us.

“What is it?” Fenric asks, his voice rough with sleep.

“Nothing,” I breathe, wondering at what point during the night he and Thorian ended up wrapped around me. Now, the three of us are all on the single bedroll. Perhaps their bodies were just naturally seeking out comfort, heat. “Just a…dream.”

I realize, slowly, that Thorian has his arm stretched out beneath me, and I’ve been using it as a pillow. Fenric, who seems to realize how close we are, jerks again, sitting up, his face flushing.

Without meaning to, I laugh. “Well, that’s one way to stay warm at night.”

“Ha,” Thorian says, and I feel the rumble of the word in his chest, the breath of it against my ear. It reminds me of the dream. Of the men standing at the front of the room, waiting for me to join them and become their wife.

“We should get up,” Fenric says, clearing his throat, already getting to his feet, that blush still present on his face. “I’ll see if I can find us something for breakfast.”

I want to stop him, to tell him he doesn't need to be embarrassed. Nothing happened. We'd spent the night keeping warm. That was all. And if I'm being honest, waking up between Fenric and Thorian felt far safer than waking up alone.

The realization catches me off guard. Perhaps because it isn't entirely practical. Perhaps because it reminds me a little too much of the dream.

Before I can untangle that troubling thought, Fenric has already disappeared into the forest in search of breakfast.

“He’s right. We need to get going. Dawn is already here,” Thorian says, his voice deep and low in my hair. “Would you mind lifting your head from my arm?”

“Sorry,” I mutter, blushing myself and sitting up, watching as Thorian sits, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Did your arm fall asleep?”