Page 107 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

Grier tugs my arm again, and the contact grounds me enough that my lungs unlock. We rise with the crowd. For a moment, nothing happens. Then the ground hums beneath my feet, faint at first, like the earth is stirring from its sleep.

The couple’s hands tighten around each other. Their eyes are closed, foreheads still pressed together, opening themselves to each other.

The vibration grows. Tiny cracks spider across the flagstones, and small green shoots push through, delicate and tender, reaching toward the moonlight. The crowd murmurs in appreciation.

“Beautiful,” someone whispers.

The shoots become vines, and the vines become saplings. Flowers bloom at the couple’s feet, cream and violet, spreading outward in a gentle wave. Gold spores drift upward, glinting in the night sky. This is what a tethering looks like. This is what love looks like when magic gives it form.

Chapter 33

Rosalie

Lord and Lady Willowmere stand at the altar, speaking vows passed down for generations. It’s beautiful, historic, the kind of moment I should be memorizing. But Finn’s hand keeps brushing mine. A graze of his pinky against my knuckles, the back of his hand pressing against mine for half a heartbeat before pulling away. Each touch is so light it could be an accident, but it’s not.

The crowd murmurs in appreciation of the flowers and saplings blooming, but I don’t hear any of it.

When I glance at him, he’s already facing me, those teal green eyes holding a look I’m not brave enough to name. His pinky hooks around mine. And my heart turns to honey as the world tilts. Just the feeling of his skin against mine makes the ground turn to water.

Then the vibration hits my knees, and I realize the ground really is moving. The flowers at the altar are growing faster now, vines thickening and spreading beyond the stone. The murmurs around us shift as awe curdles into fear.

Finn’s hand tightens around mine.

“Rosie—”

The rumble becomes a roar.

He moves before I can think, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me into his chest, and curling his body over mine like a shield.

Then the ground erupts, and we’re thrown back. We’re airborne for a heartbeat, maybe two. But it’s long enough to feel the wind tear at my hair, long enough to feel Finn’s arms tighten around me, long enough to brace for what’s coming⁠—

The impact comes hard and wrong. Finn takes it on his back, a sound punching out of him that I’ll never forget. We roll through dirt and debris, his arms locked tightly around me the whole time, until the ground finally lets us stop.

The ground has stopped moving, but I’m still shaking. Around us, the grounds have dissolved into chaos, dust hanging in the air, voices cutting through the dark. We stay like that, breathing hard, with his heartbeat wild beneath my fingers. I push myself up, hovering over him. He’s flat on his back with his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched. Blood from a cut on his forehead is trickling toward his temple.

“Finn—are you hurt⁠—”

I push his hair back with shaking hands, and my fingers come away bloody. I frantically run my hands over his shoulders, his arms, his chest, needing him to be okay more than I need air.

“I’m fine.” It comes out thin and winded, like his chest is still fighting for air. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.”

My hands keep going, to his ribs, to his sides, feeling for a wince, a flinch, anything that tells me he’s lying.

“Rosie.” He catches my wrist. “I’m okay.”

He pushes himself up on one elbow, grimacing.

“You’re bleeding,” I whisper.

His eyes find mine, and the look in them isn’t pain. It’s fear, but not for himself. He’s looking at me like losing me would have been the thing that broke him.

The chaos around us fades. The screaming, the crashing, the dust—all of it dulls until there’s nothing left but Finn’s eyes holding mine.

I lean in, giving in to the pull I’ve been fighting for years. His hand finds my hair at the same moment my lips find his. His lips meet mine, and my whole body goes soft until I melt into him entirely. His fingers tighten in my hair. His other arm pulls me down until there’s no space left between us, and I kiss him back with every feeling I’ve ever swallowed around him.

He makes a sound against my mouth, low and relieved. Relief pours through me, like sunlight filling a room I’ve kept dark for too long. We kiss like we’re making up for lost time, and it’s warmer than I let myself imagine. It’s the kind of thing you don’t come back from.

When I finally pull back, his eyes are still closed. He keeps his hands in my hair like he’s not ready to let go.