Chapter 4

Did Eden really think so little of me? That I might force myself upon my bride? I raged, but tried not to let it show. She was frightened of me, and while that was galling, I had no desire to make it worse.

The three of us stood in silence for an awkward moment. Kharmiya’s lady-companion shook her head and opened the door a crack, watching the corridor for anyone who might interrupt us. I thought it had more to do with escaping the embarrassing conversation than with our security.

“Okay, fine, bargain made. How do we manage a royal wedding in the home of someone who has every reason to object?” Eden spoke with hard, clipped words, hiding her emotions. This was a practical issue to her, nothing more—or at least, that’s what she pretended. Her flushed cheeks hinted at more. “Just how much pomp and circumstance do we need here? And where the fuck are we going to get a priest?”

A clash of our cultures was to be expected, I told myself. It should be no surprise that she had other impressions of how a wedding worked.

“It would be best to have a Keeper as a witness,” I conceded. “But we can proceed without one. And any Drachali of noble rank can bind mates together.”

Kharmiya smiled her wintery smile. “My father commanded me to marry the king. He may regret not being more specific about who I marry him to.”

Eden laughed, a short sharp sound, proving that the double meaning worked in both our languages.

“As for the lack of royal splendor, we shall have to make do. You can have another, grander ceremony when fewer lives are at stake.”

“And when you have more time,” hissed Ellarax, turning from the door with terror on her face. “The duke is coming.”

“Do it. Fast.” I snapped the command at Kharmiya, who could not quite hide the fear in her eyes as she stepped forward to face Eden. The human female flinched as I hurried to her side, and I tried to remind myself that humans are slow by Drachali standards.

Kharmiya had done her homework. She launched into a cut-down version of the binding vows, brutally shortening the ritual. Behind us, I heard footsteps in the corridor, and the scraping sound of her lady-companion dragging furniture into position to barricade the door. As much as I yearned to look back, I kept my attention on the ritual and on my mate-to-be. Eden did her best to hide her emotions, but they were too much for her to control. She was afraid, and not without reason. Of all of us, she was the one Duke Vazand would be happy to kill.

“I will not let harm come to you because of this,” I murmured out of the corner of my mouth. “Do not worry.”

She glared up at me. “Fuck you, I can take care of myself.”

The door rattled, then shook as someone slammed their weight against it. Wood creaked, but did not break, and Eden’s angry glare stayed constant.

“What misbegotten devilry is this?” Duke Vazand shouted from outside. For the first time, Kharmiya stumbled over her words, but she kept going.

She couldn’t interrupt her speech. Nothing but tradition said I could not say anything. “Your Grace, all is well. We simply wanted a little privacy to discuss our future.”

It had the virtue of being true, though incomplete. The disadvantage was that it failed to convince anyone. “His Majesty is trapped inside. Blow the lock.”

The low thrum of a pulse-gun sounded, and Ellarax dove for cover. Wood cracked and shook, sending a shower of splinters through the air where she’d stood a moment earlier. Someone shook the door again, but the barricade held. Pained swearing told me it had come at a cost—Kharmiya’s companion clutched a bleeding arm where the splinters had torn through it.

I gestured for Kharmiya to hurry up. We didn’t have much time.

“Yes. Yes. Okay.” She took a deep steadying breath and spoke fast over the thump-thump-thump of Vazand’s guards battering the door open. “The ancestors see you, King of Ages. You are their child and heir. Under their gaze, do you claim this female as your mate and swear you shall be true to her?”

“Yes.” It was a considerable shortening of the traditional vows, but it would do. Wood scraped on stone behind me as I answered, and she turned to Eden.

“Eden Sumner, I assume you’re in good standing with whatever gods you worship. Do you—”

“Yes!” Eden’s reply was nearly a shout. “Yes I fucking do, alright?”

With a splintering crash, the doors finally gave out, and guards shoved their way through. Triumphantly, Kharmiya grabbed my hand and Eden’s, raising them high. “Ancestors bless this marriage. Now kiss.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Duke Vazand shoving his way past his guards, face dark with fury and eyes flashing. The Keepers followed, all shocked expressions and wringing hands. No one had expected this, and I took great satisfaction at the chaos I’d stirred up.

Then my lips met Eden’s, and everything else washed away in the sudden rush of indescribable joy.