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Not that Quill hasn’t been trying. Now that he’s vampire supreme, they spend plenty of time locked in chambers together discussing creature politics. Quill had thought they were making headway in their friendship, that maybe Riven would be interested in brotherhood. Riven’s response to this was… very Riven-like. Indifferent and non-committal, but not entirely against the notion. It left things confusing and messy with Quill. So I invited Riven to our Pledging ceremony with the hope he’d see the gesture for what it was—an invitation to be part of our family.

My mouth twists to the side. “There’s still time for him to show his entirely too punchable face. Have you seen⁠—”

“Rory!” Cress shouts, and I whirl to find her strolling into the chapel with Lowella on her hip. Tyl trails behind her, worrying his lower lip. “I’ve been waiting ages for you to arrive. I have that… thing”—she wiggles her eyebrows at me and Risna—“the two of you asked me to pick up. It’s outside in my aunt’s wagon.”

I search the room for Carver and find him pointing every which way as he argues with… Avaline.

“Give me a second to go get him,” I say, excusing myself from them.

Eivor watches me suspiciously as I dart across the room.

“The star of the show,” Carver exclaims, opening his arms wide. He tugs me into a brotherly hug. “How are you feeling?”

I glance around the nearly full room. “A bit nervous.”

“You’ll do great,” says Avaline. Her emerald hair is dotted with flowers, twins to the blossoms decorating the chapel. “How’s everything going with the runaways?”

Her eyes sparkle with genuine interest as if she too longs to make a difference in this world. And maybe she does, considering how much she loves playing matchmaker.

“Very well,” I say. “We just welcomed a young woman from Vandalia to Garden’s Gate.”

Quill’s first act as vampire supreme was to force through my bill to initiate a safe haven for other sacrifices who seek asylum from the five kingdoms. He’s even proffered up Garden’s Gate as the location where we can help rehabilitate them and ease them into life in the Wyldelands. My bastard of a father—still reigning as Adelphi’s king—and the other four mortal kings will not be happy when they inevitably learn of such a haven, such a future for those who would have been their sacrificed, but I don’t care.

Not a creature in this room will let any harm befall those under the Seven’s protection.

“If you ever need any assistance with them,” Avaline says, “please don’t hesitate to ask for help.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, squeezing her shoulder. “Carver, can I borrow you for a second?”

His brows lift as I clamp my hand around his wrist and lead him outside. Avaline, Risna, Eivor, Tyl and Cress fall into line behind us.

“What’s going on?” asks Carver. He drags his feet as I guide him to the back of the carriage. “Rory, I’m very much not looking to swallow my own balls today, so please tell me whatever you’re plotting is completely platonic.”

I snort as I stop just shy of the rear. “Of course it is. Now, close your eyes.”

He does as I ask without argument, and I’m grateful for his blind faith in me.

I reach into the carriage and retrieve the gift. It’s much heavier than it looks. His eyes are still firmly closed as I unwrap the plane of glass and hold it in front of me for all to see.

Avaline gasps as Eivor’s eyes widen.

Risna and Cress exchange knowing smirks, forever my partners in crime.

“Open your eyes,” I say quietly to Carver.

His long lashes flutter open as his jaw drops. He takes a step backward. “Is that⁠—”

“A replacement pane of glass for your window,” I finish for him. “Risna painted Julian’s flower, and the rest are blooms I’ve preserved and had pressed into the glass. I know it can’t ever fully replace Julian’s window, but⁠—”

“It’s perfect.” He grins as he traces the flower petals in Risna’s painting. “Thank you.”

Music spills from the chapel doors.

“That’s our cue,” says Cress. “Everyone inside!”

She passes Lowella off to Tyl as she ushers everyone into the chapel. I linger in the doorway as they scramble to take their seats. As they settle, Eivor and Carver grin mischievously, and I can’t wait to hear all about whatever bet they’ve placed while Risna sandwiches herself between them. The chatter from earlier has stopped as music from the animated instruments tucked in the corner of the chapel drifts throughout the room. The empty seat beside Nerissa, reserved for Godrick, doesn’t feel quite so empty with her bubbly joy radiating from where she sits beside a misty-eyed Cora as they gaze upon me.

As the music builds to a romantic procession, I walk down the aisle. Alone. In another life, I would’ve run in the opposite direction of an altar, and now it takes everything in me not to rush down the aisle and throw myself at the male waiting for me. Not to sacrifice me or use me for personal gain, but to pledge himself to me for all eternity. I mind the music and take my time, smiling at the familiar faces lining the pews. They’re here to celebrate my life—our lives—and not my death, and I’m incredibly grateful for that.