Page 141 of The Edge of Darkness

I observed the guests while I waited for my mate to grace the top steps of the temple.

In the section directly across from me, at the edge of the altar, Vanir stood next to Roirdan. Aremis, Maeson, Morah, Silas, and Nivelle stood to their right, each of them dressed to impress. I noted the sword at Vanir’s hip, and at Roirdan’s. Aremis was armed to the teeth with daggers. I didn’t need to see them to know they were there.

Silas was earning all kinds of stares, ranging from weariness to intrigue—thanks to the oversized golden sword strapped between his white wings, which he’d chosen to leave unglamoured. He stood like a statue, clad in dark gray, eyes scanning the room until they snagged on something of interest.

I turned, slowly following his glare up and to the right, to where Ramil and Killian were taking their place at the end of a row in the section they’d been directed to sit in. Ramil looked as uneasy as he did curious, ready to flee at any sign of suspicious activity, yet teeming with malicious ambition.

Bastard.

At his side, Killian wore a scowl. He crossed his arms over his chest and began picking apart the crowd with obvious distaste.

Splendid. It was all coming together.

I caught Roirdan’s eye and tapped into his mind.

The sand-loving fuck and his woodland pet have graced us with their presence. I tilted my head in their direction, and Roirdan shifted his sights to them, marking their location and giving me a subtle nod.

That was easy, he said back into my mind.

Breck’s information had been correct. I hadn’t doubted him, but Killian was as unpredictable as a storm, so I’d made sure to have an alternative plan in place—just in case.

My opinion of Breck seemed to be ever-shifting. We had never bothered with each other’s existence that much until Auren came along. Before her, Breck was just another dignitary. Someone to deal with during meetings, and occasionally taunt and argue with just for fuck’s sake.

Now, he might as well have been one of my spies.

The information he was relaying to us was invaluable. I was appreciative, even if he was only doing it for Auren’s sake. The last time we’d spoken face to face was at Lumeri in Drastia, and that was not the best of encounters. But we seemed to both be looking past that for the betterment of the rest of the realm.

I found him seated right where I’d instructed, next to Laurent and Senna at the left edge of the altar. I nodded to the three of them, and they returned the motion.

Fixating back on my Trium, I waited with as much anticipation as everyone else.

Silas’s wings twitched, the movement catching my eye, and he pivoted to look back and up toward the main entryway just before the candles and fire basins collectively pulsed with light.

The guests quieted, and, noting the direction of my stare, turned as one, watching the entrance. A heartbeat later, two figures stepped through the arch into the temple and approached the top of the steps, arm in arm.

Auren and Remic.

The room gasped at the sight of the hooded figure, but I couldn’t help but smile.

She’d chosen black. Not white, or ivory, or some sweet, feminine shade—as every other female would have.

But black.

Black like my shadowfire. Like Calledan’s banners.

And I loved her all the more for it.

Her face was completely hidden beneath the cloak’s hood, as was tradition. I couldn’t see her, but I was certain she could see me.

Remic brought her to a halt at the precipice of the main stairway. His expression was stoic, ever the embodiment of judgment and wrath. But I knew that beneath that stone-faced façade, he was beaming with pride.

Murmurs circulated throughout the temple as the audience took in Remic and the stranger. Then, every head followed as the two of them started their descent.

My heart began pounding alongside the ever-present thrumming. I straightened, pulling my hands from my pockets and clasping them behind my back, anxiously digging my thumb into my palm as I watched Auren draw closer to me with every breath. All sound faded away. My vision tunneled to her existence, and hers alone.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, could barely breathe.

I’d seen nearly five hundred years of life, and nothing had ever threatened to bring me to my knees. Not until her. Not until this moment. I’d worship her on bended knee. I’d worship her with my hands, with my mouth, in every physical, spiritual, and emotional way possible.