40. Forever

Chapter 40

Forever

LORI

A s her sponsor, Seth is supposed to give Daisy away. The ill-fated bride is sitting on a stool in front of the backlit vanity mirror of the dressing room, two women hovering around her.

The three of them are speaking in hushed voices, wrinkled cloth handkerchiefs tucked in their tight grips. The oldest of the two strangers is clearly Daisy's mother, with the same slim nose, blonde hair, and blue eyes.

The other woman gasps as we come in. "Oh my Eros. She's here." She's about my age, and I figure she must be Daisy's sister, the one that mysteriously fell sick the night before the pageant so Seth could squeeze me in the roster.

Daisy leaps from her seat. The wide skirt of her gown, adorned with silver roses, sweeps the floor as she hurries over to me. Her bridal up-do is decorated with a white veil and a platinum tiara—the perfect look for a Winter Queen.

"You're…gorgeous," I admit, my throat tight and painful.

The certainty I'd found back in the prison waivers, but Daisy grips my hands. "I can't do this, Lori. I can't sleep with him in front of all these people. I'm not made for ice. I don't want to die, I—" Adrenaline and fear crank up her sultry voice by a few octaves, and my already racing pulse picks up speed.

A knock on the door startles us all, and I wrap myself in shadows before Byron flies into the dressing room. The Faeling is wearing black tails and a top hat, the usual shimmer of his wings at his back. "Ha, Seth. Glad to see you finally deigned to join us. The broadcast has commenced, so we need to cross the labyrinth."

Daisy nods emphatically at that. "I need a minute, please."

Byron hesitates in the doorway, adjusting his small glasses on his nose as he observes the three women and Seth in turn. "Is something wrong?"

Daisy serves him a wide, sugary smile. "Nope. I just need another minute."

Her mother stalks forward to close the door with a feigned sniffle, her nose buried in her handkerchief. "Give us a moment." She slams the door in Byron's face and turns to search the room for me. "What are you here for?"

I loosen my grip of the shadows shielding me from her gaze. "I need to speak with Elio."

"You heard Byron. The broadcast has already started," Seth says.

I wish there were time to do this properly and talk things out. I feel as though I'm standing at the edge of a bottomless trench, ready to rappel down without a rope, with no time to prepare.

The clock on the wall ticks and tocks , the meager minute Daisy bargained for nearly over. Less than two hours remain before the winter solstice ritual must take place—before the attack meant to wipe out the Winter King.

"I hurried over to save the day, but now I'm not sure where to start," I admit, my thoughts jumbling together and my palms sweaty at the thought that, no matter what, Elio needs to wed in a few minutes.

"Come with me." Daisy links her elbow in mine and whisks me outside.

If Byron is surprised by my presence, he doesn't show it, the Faeling hurriedly crossing something off on his clipboard before he flies off.

Daisy and I walk in tandem along the parapet and down the stairs to the entrance of the maze.

Sara rounds the last kink of the cedar hedge just as we're about to head in, and a white puff of air mists in front of her face. "Daisy? Is everything al — " She freezes at the sight of me.

"I'll be the one walking Daisy down the aisle." I announce loud and clear, in case any hidden cameras are flying about.

With a grave nod, Sara guides us to the opposing end of the labyrinth.

Near the last corner, she stops and tips her chin toward the exit to give us the go-ahead. "Go and give him hell."

My spine straightens at her encouraging words, and I lean toward the royal chief of staff. "You should go to Elio's study. You're about to receive some visitors."

"Visitors?"

A fleeting smile glazes my lips, giving me another much-needed boost of confidence. "Daisy's not the only one who brought family."

I suck in air as we emerge from the maze and step directly onto the aisle.

The inner gardens have been decked out with thousands of lights for the occasion, with illuminated garlands of ice swaying to a gentle breeze from the branches of the Hawthorn. A spotlight highlights the position of a frost apple that looks ripe for the picking.

The one tucked inside my jacket pocket doesn't feel as heavy as it used to. Each step grows lighter as I make my way to the altar where Elio is waiting for his bride.

The Winter King stands next to Paul on stage, his gaze fixed straight ahead and his hands clasped at his front. His navy-blue suit, a deep and rich shade, complements his pale skin, and a high, starched collar adds to the formality of the occasion. His tie is fastened with a vintage platinum brooch, lending a touch of old-world charm to his otherwise modern look. His hair is tousled—chic yet rebellious.

The thick soles of my hunter boots squish the rose petals scattered on our path while Daisy's white fur slippers barely make a dent in the snow.

A string quartet accompanied by a pianist play the romantic melody of Elizabeth Snow's Never to Be, the most iconic Fae song of this century . I almost expect her to start singing when the first verse starts, but the famous singer is nowhere to be found. The forlorn notes of the piano send a shiver through my body, the absence of lyrics actually highlighting the melody, the theme strangely geared toward heartbreak.

Gasps, loud whispers, and a frantic buzz washes through the crowd of High Fae gathered on both sides of the aisle.

Paul raises a smooth gray eyebrow at us. "Another twist."

The master of ceremony feigns annoyance, but his shrewd gaze is practically scintillating as it meets mine, and one corner of his mouth curls up. I swear one of his nosy cameras must be broadcasting directly inside his damn skull.

Elio jumps off the stage and jogs toward us, and I dig the balls of my feet in the snow. My mouth hangs open as the angry, bitter words that were ingrained in my brain on my way over get strangled in my throat.

"You came back." He stops short of reaching for me, his fists curling at his side as his gaze darts to Daisy in her bridal gown.

She lets out a nervous chortle and lets go of my arm. "Your Majesty, it's obvious to see… Lori here is the one who holds your heart."

Elio shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his face ashen.

Daisy offers the guests and cameras a sad smile. "How could you choose anyone else after we all saw how bravely she risked her life to save yours? We all witnessed first-hand how fiercely she protected you, and she might not be from the first kingdoms, but if we know anything in Spring, it's that true love trumps tradition."

"What about the rules?" Paul quips, his intent gaze goading me to stake my claim.

My tongue finally starts working again. "True love transcends crowns, blood, and flesh. It doesn't care for common sense and doesn't play by the rules." A blush spreads across my cheeks, but my voice remains steadier than I'd hoped. "I love you, Elio. It doesn't make a lick of sense, but I do. And whether or not I wanted to say it for the first time in front of all of Wintermere… It needed to be said."

He brushes his thumb across my cheek. "I love you too, Lori."

I can see his resolve grow. He still plans to fight me on this.

I block Paul, the crowd, and the cameras out, focusing on the bob of Elio's throat and the fresh patch of blue freckles on his neck until all I can see is him. "The venom is spreading fast." I graze the festering wound along my rib. "I'm dying, and there's nothing you can do to stop it, unless…" I reach into my pocket to retrieve the frost apple and hold it up to the light.

The ethereal luster of the blue peel dries my mouth once more. Every time I've thought about eating it, I've felt sick, but not now. Without the apple—without Elio—I'm a dead woman walking. He can't expect me to accept it if he's not willing to let me save him, too.

The sea rolling inside his immortal gaze is bright and hypnotic as it slips to my lips. "If I marry you, you'll eat it? Is that your proposal?"

"Yes. Before I met you, I was already marked for death. If you want me to fight my fate and grab this opportunity to heal, you have to do the same for yourself."

"You're…" he pecks my lips, "evil."

"I'm your queen."

Elio offers me a wicked, filthy grin. "Yes. Yes, you are." His grip on the nape of my neck tightens as he tilts my chin toward him and swallows my next breath with a kiss.

He tastes of salt and bitter tears, mingled with fresh snow, pine sap, and a bite of Nether cider.

Paul clears his throat. "If the bride and groom could move up to the altar."

Daisy gives us an encouraging nod and gestures us forward. Under the watchful eyes of the High Fae, Elio extends his hand for me to take.

I lace our fingers together, tucking the apple back into my pocket before we walk up the aisle. The bright smiles and murmured approval of the courtiers spell out their enthusiasm for this sudden, unexpected turn of events.

They probably think it was all staged, too.

"Mortal love wanes. Fae love cuts to the bone." The master of ceremonies holds out a curved ice dagger with a platinum pommel and guard. "Will you cut yourself to honor your commitment to each other, from this moment forth to eternity?"

The tip of the beautiful blade gleams in the night as Elio picks it up and slides the edge across his thumb in one smooth, confident motion. "You belong to Winter, and Winter…belongs to you. Before I met you, I convinced myself that I didn't want to live, that death was my past, present, and future. But I want more than that, and it starts with you, Lorisha Pari Singh."

He swipes the blood across my cheek, and it frosts over, leaving only a trail of red snowflakes in its wake.

"Elio… All my life, I've been running. I fled from the painful memories of my childhood. I hunted nightmares but avoided every opportunity for greatness that came with training. I never allowed myself to take a risk with my heart. I ran from the grief I carried and anything that made my blood race too hard. I ran so far and with such ease that I forgot to slow down and truly live. I want a life with you."

I cut myself, too, and paint shadows over his full, masculine lips. The blood seeps into his skin as I rest a hand over his heart—the heart of the reaper king no longer frozen, but frantic. My husband 's heart. Beating for me .

He steals the apple from my unzipped pocket and hands it over. "We had a deal."

My mouth dries up. I wasn't lying when I said I was dying, so I give a small incline of my head. Here goes.

The peel of the frost apple yields with a heavy crunch, the burst of flavor like biting into a firm, sweet iteration of Elio's skin. Ice and sugar. Frosted sin. The juices dribble down my chin, the ripe flesh dissolving like a mix of crushed ice and cotton candy in my mouth.

"Eat it all," Elio murmurs, his eyes drinking in the sight of me munching on the apple until I've swallowed the last of it.

The core prunes and crumbles in my hand. I dust off the icy crumbs as Elio wipes the remaining sap from my lips with his thumb.

The powerful itch in my side is about the only clue of the apple's true power. Tingles rage war on the venom until the pain that had been a literal thorn in my side for weeks vanishes completely, and I hold my breath for a moment.

The corners of my husband's mouth twitch. "Long live the queen."