Page 140 of The Edge of Darkness

Then there were whispers that this was some sort of late tribute to the return of spring.

The High Lords were known to host celebrations and events multiple times throughout the year, though I’d never been the type to frolic in finery under floral garlands and starlight. I left that to The Woodlands and The Arctic.

Regardless, the invite had everyone itching to attend. Not only had the invitation been intriguingly vague, but it was exquisite in its presentation—a rolled scroll tied with a black satin ribbon, containing an elegant script that instructed every guest to dress in their finest. And Calledan did not disappoint.

An invitation had also been sent to each of the High Lords. Vanir, of course, knew exactly what to make of it. Laurent responded almost immediately as well, sending an envoy with a celebratory bottle of his finest wine, and a note that said, “What good is a mate, if not to spoil her incessantly.” I’d smirked the moment I read it. It was something I had said to him the night of his Lumeri celebration, and he had caught the implication. The male was more clever than everyone gave him credit for.

Neither Killian or Ramil had sent envoys with their response, but I had it on good authority that they would be attending purely out of curiosity.

I enjoyed keeping the two of them on their toes, wondering why the High Lord of Calledan would be inviting them to an unnamed celebration so soon after Lumeri?

Why would I invite them at all? Especially Ramil, given what he had just done to us.

Well, I had a plan for that.

This “wedding,” as Auren would call it, was more than just that. It was a statement—a declaration—and I was going to make sure the masses bore witness to it. But first, it was time to see my court’s reaction at witnessing Calledan’s Lady being crowned.

After yesterday’s frightful turn of events at the temple ruins, I thought I would still be struggling with some sort of unease. Instead, I felt better than I had since Benmoor. Although my control wasn’t what I wanted it to be, I’d managed to rein it in, and eventually it had settled into a near-dormant lull in my veins, just the way I liked it. I reasoned to myself that maybe it just needed to be expelled, since I hadn’t purged it in that capacity in so long. Doubt lurked in the back of my mind, but I ignored it, because the thought of it being due to anything else set me on edge again. And today, I needed to be in control.

Thankfully, all I had to do was focus on Auren and the fact that I was making her mine, and my mind was at ease.

I slid my hands into my pockets, dropped the glamour I’d had around me, and stepped out of the shadows.

The fae shuffled about, suddenly sensing my presence. Heads swiveled in my direction as I casually descended the main stairway toward the center of the temple. The polite chatter turned hushed as murmurs and half-formed smiles filled the audience. Not a single fae was sure of what was about to happen. Their curiosity was palpable, to the point where it was almost overwhelming. The guests leaned into one another, eyes wide, desperate to get a good look at me and make their assumptions as to what they should expect next.

I would say my attire was a bit obvious, but then again, I always wore black.

This particular ensemble, however, was something I’d had Gareth fashion specifically for this occasion. After all, I would only be marrying once.

The black-on-black dress jacket and pants hugged my skin like a glove. Gold-gilded thread wound along the cuffs at my wrists and down the long lapels of the jacket in swirling designs, courtesy of Gareth’s particularly skilled hand. A matching long cloak that was somehow infinitely darker than the rest of the outfit fell from my shoulders, flowing like a trail of night behind me.

I smiled and nodded at a few nobles and a couple of council members who bowed their heads as I passed, each of them searching my eyes for any hint of what was about to happen.

Behind the stone altar, Syros, The Adorner, stood, hands clasped in front of his gold-hemmed linen robes. He didn’t look a day older than the last time I’d seen him. His head was still clean-shaven, the stubble around his mouth and on his chin neatly trimmed—though peppered with far more gray than I remembered. He was a short and stocky male, with a smile as big as his heart. And he was a busybody, always teaching, or praying, or tending to the archives at the library deep within the mountains.

He’d been the one to shroud me on the battlefield all those years ago. And now, here he was, taking his place at the altar, to bind Auren and me in this mating ceremony.

Gods, how times had changed.

As I came to the bottom of the stairs, the giant basins of fire that bracketed each corner of all six stairways pulsed, flaring brightly. There were twelve basins in total, and they were enchanted to create a barrier, only allowing certain individuals onto the platform.

The priestesses utilized the enchantment as protection from any heretics who dared disturb their prayers or dedications, though there hadn’t been any of those incidents since the last war. Now, it was used more out of habit than necessity. But for this particular event, the enchantment would be in full force.

I stepped past the two basins on either side of me and approached the altar.

Syros bowed at the waist. “My Lord.”

I nodded in return. “Good to see you, Syros.”

The male’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “It is an honor to be leading this special event.” His eyes flicked past me to the crowd. “It seems you have managed to fill every seat, and then some. There are many who have taken to the mezzanine just to be able to witness this . . . mysterious occasion.”

I didn’t hide my grin. Syros had been filled in on all the details and knew the entire agenda. He’d always had a soft spot for me. He trusted me, even in times when no one else did. And he knew I tended to have a wild idea or two up my sleeve.

What was even better was that he had always been keen to play along with my antics.

Stepping closer to the altar, I nodded. “It’s going to be a beautiful ceremony.”

A swath of red flowers decorated the altar before me, draping down the sides and puddling to the floor. The adornment was courtesy of Amarna, I had no doubt. She’d truly outdone herself by adding that special detail. My request had been for as many candles as possible, in honor of Auren’s beauty and light. I could tell just by looking that the Elder had procured thousands of them. The temple’s ceiling flickered with their golden light.