Page 137 of The Edge of Darkness

As I sat in what had once been my personal bedchamber in The Keep, staring out at the sun as it slowly sank behind the mountains, I thought about my family.

What would my parents think about all of this? They would have wanted me to be happy, regardless of what it meant. My father would be content knowing that Niall would always protect me, that I had a place to call home, and a family to call my own—even if it wasn’t by blood. My mother would have wanted me to find true love, as she had. She would have asked if Niall made me laugh, and if he was someone I could see myself growing old with, because, as she liked to say, looks will fade, but personality and love will outlast time.

If she had only known that I wouldn’t have to worry about looks fading or old age getting the best of me . . .

Then, there was my brother. I always thought that if love ever found me, Liam would be the one to give me away, since our father was no longer here to do so. The space in my heart where I held the memory of my mother and father felt a little more hollow, knowing that neither they, nor Liam, would see me get married today. So much had changed in such a short amount of time.

I wished he could be here. More than anything, I wished he could just see this place—this realm.

He and Niall would get along. I imagined them training together—Liam with his tactical approach, and Niall, with his unwavering ability to be one step ahead. The two would probably form a bond akin to brothers, just as Niall had with his Trium.

I smiled at the thought, more tears crowding my vision. I blinked them away and settled my gaze on the table before me, to the beautiful bundle of flowers tied with a black silk ribbon. Amongst the bouquet were luscious, dark roses, and varieties of blooms I’d never seen—some with long and pointed petals, some that were short and ruffled, and some that draped like vines, each one the color of the richest red wine. Remic had delivered them to me earlier, on behalf of Niall, along with a note that had one word written on it . . .

Always.

One simple word, but it said so much.

Niall never missed an opportunity to make sure I knew I was loved.

And gods, did I love him.

When he had been poisoned and taken away in Benmoor, I thought my soul was going to shred itself to pieces and cease to exist. Without him, I felt utterly lost. My heart had hurt like I never imagined it could. I would go to sleep clutching my chest, face buried in his pillow just to breathe in his scent, even though it did nothing to ease the agony of his absence.

I thought I had known what Niall meant to me before that incident. But the extent of my love for him was far more than I could fathom. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for him. I’d go to war for him. I’d⁠—

“Let’s get you into your gown.” Amarna’s voice cut through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present. She waved me toward the armoire where Sorscha was waiting, beaming with excitement, a perfectly proper smile plastered on her face.

I had told Amarna several times that as the Elder of Calledan, she didn’t need to be acting as a lady’s maid to me, but she insisted that she be of service by helping any way she could. That meant organizing and preparing the temple for the ceremony, and overseeing my primping—alongside Sorscha. Both of them had bustled around my room for a good hour, bringing me small snacks on trays, topping off my goblet of sweet wine, styling my hair in a fluffy, low bun at the nape of my neck, and flicking their wrists in front of my face to apply cosmetics.

Then, they’d set to fussing over my gown until it was deemed perfect, even though Gareth had delivered it in pristine condition.

I’d sent a personal request to the tailor as to the design and fit of my wedding gown. In the human realm, brides typically wore white, to signify purity and grace. It was traditional, and very . . . human. This marriage was neither of those things. And purity and grace were two sentiments I was not worried about embodying today.

Today, I wanted to showcase strength and unity. I was to be the Lady of Calledan. A human, whom the fae of this court had never met before. A handful of them might have taken note of Niall whisking me around the dance floor at the base of the falls at Lumeri, but other than that, they knew nothing.

And first impressions were everything.

That was why Niall had insisted that this event be one part mating ceremony, and the other part, a power-statement. Hence, my attire wasn’t just a dress like I’d worn for any other occasion. It was a gown. And it was as black as the mountain stones of Calledan. Fierce. Elegant. Regal. As dark as the sword Niall carried.

I slipped off my robe and stepped one foot into the garment, then the other, pulling it up around my hips, then sliding my arms into the sleeves. Sorscha gathered up my robe, then tended to the zipper that ran the length of my back. I turned to face the gilded mirror and beheld the image it reflected back at me.

The length of the gown fell to the floor, the thick, silky fabric puddling around my feet like spilled ink. A thigh-high slit reached up the center, allowing the air to kiss my legs.

While the skirts and bodice were made of solid fabric, my décolletage, shoulders, and arms were covered in a sheer, skin-toned mesh with tendrils of shadowfire stitched onto it. The overlay was delicate, a stunning show of Gareth’s craftsmanship and skill, and a nod to my mate’s power, in all its glory. I wanted the fae of Calledan to see me wearing this rendition of Niall’s shadows like a second skin—with pride, not fear. An acknowledgement and public embracing of what their High Lord was capable of, and a declaration of my love for him.

In addition, Gareth had drizzled the stitchwork with thousands of crystals that glistened like stars dancing atop the wisps of shadowfire.

I moved my arms at my sides, admiring every facet of the glittering gems as Amarna brought forth the hooded cloak that was to be worn over the gown. It was a traditional fae garb, meant to shield the female from the public eye, allowing her mate to be the first to lay eyes on her during the ceremony.

The one that Gareth had designed was made of the same thick, silky fabric, with long, oversized bell sleeves, and swirling designs embroidered in gold thread from the cuffs to my elbows. The hood was billowing, and the train draped along the floor several feet behind me, adorned in more gold-stitched swirls.

“You will make a lovely Lady of Calledan,” Amarna said softly.

Sorscha nodded enthusiastically at my side.

And there it was. The first tear dripped down my cheek.

“Oh, don’t get all worked up now,” Amarna said, rushing to dab a cloth to my face.