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“Meaning?”

“Invite him and Rory to the private ceremony.”

“It’s a bit short notice,” I say, blowing on her core.

“That”—a shudder wracks through her—“doesn’t matter.”

“But—”

“On your back, Riven,” she cuts in, eyes twinkling.

Like a trained hound, I roll over. She climbs on top of me, knees bracketing my face, and clutches the headboard. Her cunt hovers above my mouth, swollen with need.

“What are you⁠—”

“Stopping your overthinking with the only way I know how.” She lowers until she’s just barely sitting on my face. “Now, feast.”

And I do.

I devour her.

Chapter 35

GWYN

Riven is true to his word.

He tasks Arkyn with collecting Avaline and sends a wedding invitation to Rory and Quill by way of messenger.

We’re getting married.

Tonight.

Tonight, I’ll become his wife. His queen. His. For now and always.

I’m giddy all throughout my bath and while dressing, lighter than I’ve ever felt.

I spent so long believing I was an unlovable monster.

But I’m neither of those things.

It only took an enchanting king tracing my fucking scar, seeing the ugliest parts of my heart and past, to prove something I think I’ve always known.

I’m a survivor.

And I’m worthy of love.

After I bared my soul to him, Riven didn’t even hesitate to scoop me into his arms and take me home—to our bedroom, in our castle, in our kingdom.

Well, it will all be ours soon enough.

I’m staring out the window overlooking the gardens when Riven comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. His scent immediately calms my racing nerves.

“Kiss for your thoughts?” he asks, nuzzling his face into my neck and inhaling deeply.

His breath tickles, and I squirm, turning to face him. “For witches, it’s custom for brides to adorn their hair and bouquets with blossoms picked by their own hand. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to use flowers from Eliana’s garden.”

“You don’t need my permission, sweetheart.”