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I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him.

“What. The. Fuck?” Avaline blurts.

My eyes snap open at the sound of her voice. Riven stiffens, loosing an annoyed huff as he turns and laces his fingers through mine.

Avaline stands in the doorway, a broad-shouldered male at her side.

“I told you to wait,” drawls Arkyn from behind them.

My stomach swoops at the sight of my friend. Her emerald hair is pinned out of her face, giving me a clear view of her puzzled expression.

Achlys barks, tail wagging as he bounds toward her, lifting onto his hind legs to paw at her.

“Easy on the dress, mister man,” she says, dropping to the floor and letting him lick her face.

The male grimaces. “Is it strange that this is making me irrationally jealous?”

“Most definitely, Carver.”

I’m rooted in place as I watch Achlys vibrate with excitement. A part of me feels just as overjoyed as my familiar. But there’s another part, however small, that can’t believe she brought him with her.

Carver.

Her ex-lover. Several times over.

I take a moment to study him. He’s a foot taller than her, with a mop of dark hair and sun-kissed skin, most of which is hidden beneath leather. A bit roguish, with a cocky grin. Handsome. Easy on the eyes. But the way his gaze sweeps the room before settling back on her... He’s cautious. Calculating. There’s charm there, yes, but also danger. And Avaline has always been drawn to both.

“Who’s the best boy?” she coos, scratching behind Achlys’s pointed ears as she holds Carver’s gaze. “You are. You’re the best boy.”

Carver shakes his head, laughing to himself.

The whole scene is so surreal that only Riven’s gentle squeeze on my hand proves I’m not dreaming.

Avaline’s really sprawled across the marble floor, petting Achlys.

Carver’s really watching her, clearly amused.

And I⁠—

I’m really going to marry Riven tonight with one of my closest friends in attendance.

“You know, Winny,” Ava says, gently pushing Achlys off and reaching a hand toward Carver. He tugs her to her feet, brushing hound hair from her gown. “I thought you’d be happier to see me, considering Supreme Riven’s brute threatened to drag me here kicking and screaming.”

My gaze swings to Arkyn. He lifts a shoulder. “I wouldn’t actually.”

“Good to know,” Carver says, flashing a grin.

“Why have we been brought here?” Avaline asks, brow furrowed. Her gaze dips to where Riven’s clutching my hand. “Winny, are you ok⁠—”

“We’re getting married,” I exclaim, heart hammering. “Tonight. That’s why Arkyn was so persistent. I, um, asked for you to be here. At the ceremony.”

Her jaw drops. “You’re getting married?” She points between Riven and me. “Like—you and him?”

“Yes.” I lift Riven’s hand and kiss it. “Him and I.”

“So much for not fucking creatures who aren’t fae,” Carver mutters.

Riven tenses.