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“The Icebolt Accord,” Tyreste said, musing. “History likes to name everything.”
“I like it,” Ana said, her eyes glossy as she swayed to the force of the chanting. “But this won’t be written inThe Book of All Things.We owe it to the Ravenwoods to keep their names from our histories. Better for the rest of the realm to be curious than to be knowledgeable.”
Tyr craned his neck and waved at Addy, who was trying to catch his attention. “Looks like they’re headed back. See you... soon?”
Ana kissed him. A great chill rippled through her, and when it finished, she felt weightless. “Soon.”
“No one is more familiar with the precarious line between life and death than a man or woman of the Northerlands. Winter is what we know. It is in us, around us, a part of us. And in the direst, bleakest days and nights of midwinter, when the promise of springtide is but a myth beyond our reach, we are never closer to our beloved Guardians.” Lenik lifted his gaze and passed it across the packed tavern from where he stood behind the bar. “And Ancestors, of course.” He turned the page in the tome he had resting on the wood.
Tyr and Ana grinned at each other from the other side. He brushed his pinky along hers, biting back a giggle. He’d never wanted to touch her more than when he’d been ordered to be patient and wait.
His smile faded some when he realized everyone he knew was watching him try not to mount his soon-to-be wife.
“Our bones are ice,” Lenik said, continuing. “Our flesh is snow. But our hearts are fire, the fire that kindles the spirit of the Northerlands, that coarsens us to any hardship, any suffering. The fire sets us apart. The fire is what gives life.” The vodzhae folded his hands, lifted his chin, and inspected the crowd once more. “These are the Sacred Vows of the Northerlands, and we will say them as the tradition of our Reach decrees. Vjestik tradition is far simpler. We replace the customary marriage knot with a ritual of our own.” He nodded at Arkhady.
Ana’s father shuffled forward. He brandished a dagger, breaking into a tight, squeamish grin. Ana placed her bandaged hand on his arm with an encouraging smile to show him it was all right.
Rikard the Mouser snaked a deft, winding path through Tyreste’s legs and then Ana’s, purring hard enough to prompt comments on the strange cat someone forgot to shoo out.
Tyr dared anyone to touch his dearest friend.
Arkhady cradled Ana’s injured hand in his palm and pricked the pad of her forefinger. A bead of blood rushed to the surface. He hurried to score the same mark on Tyr and then stepped back.
“You know what to do,” Lenik said with a solemn head tip.
Ana pressed her finger into Tyr’s mouth, and he slipped his into hers. The coppery taste of her blood flooded his tongue. He wasn’t prepared for how sensual it would feel. His cock rebelliously stirred in his trousers as he silently pleaded for the damn thing tobe patient.
Tyr withdrew his finger, swallowing as she swept her tongue along her bottom lip, showing him a flash of his blood before she closed her mouth and eyes and made a soft moaning sound only he could hear.
“Not fair,” he muttered, groaning and shifting to hide the bulge straining his pants. “Not fair at all.”
“More of that later,” Ana purred, and he had to grip the back of Agnes’s chair to keep from bowing over. His sister’s disgusted scoff wasn’t subtle.
“With Anastazja’s blood on your tongue, Tyreste Penhallow, repeat after me,” Lenik said and read from the weighty book. Apparently sensing Tyreste had only followed some of it, he turned the pages around and pointed at the spot.
Tyr cleared his throat, the taste of her still painfully intoxicating. “My flame is unique. There is only one of its kind. There is nothing I possess worth more.” He shifted again, overcome with the terrible sense everyone gathered could see his cock hardening. “It is my light in the darkest months, my heat when the ice has forsaken us. I share it now with you, Anastazja. I join my flame to yours, creating a unified blaze. Though we have ahead of us the darkest of nights, the coldest of days, as long as we are me and thee, our fire will illuminate the stars in our immortal sky.”
Lenik turned toward Ana. She tapped her foot in nervous excitement and pushed the book away.
“I know the words, Lenik. I’ve heard them many times before, though I never imagined saying them myself,” she said. Only Tyr understood the full truth behind her words. No one else ever had to know that she’d lived the past decade of her life waiting to die. “My flame is unique. There is only one of its kind. There is nothing I possess worth more. It is my light in the darkest months, my heat when the ice has forsaken us. I share it now with you, Tyreste. I join my flame to yours, creating a unified blaze. Though we have ahead of us the darkest of nights, the coldest of days, as long as we are me and thee, our fire will illuminate the stars in our immortal sky.”
Lenik pursed his mouth at her, impressed. “Your fires are now a blaze, a blaze that must be protected at any cost.” He slammed the book closed. “You may codify this union with a kiss, a hug, or... whatever suits your, ahem, present disposition.”
“Trust me, Lenik, you don’t want me to indulge my present disposition,” Tyr said and tugged Ana against him with a hard snap. Her eyes, wide and glazed, searched his, and he held her like this until he couldn’t restrain his kiss any longer.
Cheers and applause rang out. Tyr sighed his relief into her mouth, and she angled herself forward, brushing his sensitive, swollen cock with her torso and laughing at his discomfort.
“You’rereallyasking for it later,” he said, clenching.
Ana swirled her tongue over his, mingling their blood. “Ireallyhope so.” She moaned and broke away with a devious grin. “Time to socialize.”
“How in the bloody Guardians didyouland a woman like her,” Rikard said with a hard clap on Tyr’s shoulder when Ana drifted into the crowd. “He’s probably wondering the same, eh?” He nodded downward, at Tyr’s little ‘problem.’ Tyr felt his cheeks grow even redder.
“I knowI’mwondering,” Agnes said, cradling her belly as Stojan helped her from her chair. “What is it with you and feisty, demanding women anyway, brother? Do you enjoy being ordered about?” When Stojan snorted, Agnes waved an affronted hand. “You dirty man. No, don’t tell me, Tyr!”
“He knows what he wants,” Olov said, joining them. He held his arm out for Fransiska, who was busy wiping her eyes on her sleeves. “He always has. But fate intervened and changed the course he was on, so he could findthisone, leading him back to us. And her.” He leaned in and swallowed Tyr in a broad hug. “We’re happy for you, son.”
“I can see the wheels turning in Father’s mind as he tries to work poor Ana into the tavern schedule,” Agnes quipped.
