Chapter 13

Later that night I slipped into bed with Eli. The dead were safely nestled back in their graves, and the draugr I hadn't beheaded were gone. The tourists who arrived in my city with hatred in their heart were escorted to the city's gates. And Iggy had crawled back into whatever cave he lived with his antiquated notions.

"How was work?" Eli murmured after kissing me hello.

"Dead," I quipped.

Eli, proving yet again that he was the one for me, smiled. "Indeed."

I filled him in, and then snuggled into his arms to rest a bit. It was a bit alarming to suddenly need sleep more often, but that was another question for another week. Tonight was for pre-wedding snuggles and sleep.

The next morning,we woke to the magical alarm that let us know that Allie was here.

"Breakfast!" she called as she let herself into the house.

"Did you forget to lock the door?" I grumbled to Eli.

"I gave her a key," he said cheerily.

Then he escaped my grumpy morning-mood to start to ready himself for the day while I met the chirpy "Helloooo, my bridal birdie" of my assistant.

I swore she was cheerful just to piss me off sometimes.

"Come on," she said, knocking on the bedroom door. "We need to head out so we can get you all beautified. I have a whole team meeting us there."

I jerked open the door. "You're lying, right?"

"Nope."

We arrived at Beatrice's estate. Reflexively, my magic reached out to the dead in the soil, absences in pockets of space. There were a number of graves here. Three woman in the bayou. Six more men in the ground closer to the house. A child in a grave. And a tangle of bones in a field . . . sixty. . . maybe up to eighty bodies.

It was as if I greeted them when I visited, reaching out, finding them. Knowing where they were. In the city, the dead were always easy to find. New Orleans was a city of graves. Out here in what was once called Slidell, the dead were often hidden.

Except the draugr.

My sense of the dead was always humming at Beatrice's home. Her guards were not all walking dead, but they were present enough that I felt hyper-alert the first few times I'd been here. Now, after several visits over the last year, I was getting used to their "signatures." I could identify some of the guests by the way my magic recognized them.

Beatrice swept out the door, and despite her elegant gown, she still looked like she was a moment from declaring war. She was draped in a midnight blue gown with a hundreds of small glinting gems that gave her the appearance of royalty—which she was among her kind.

She wore no shoes. In fact, a pair of employees at her door were collecting and tagging all shoes. There would be no footwear allowed at my wedding.

Fortunately, this was a small, private event, and none of my guests were the sort to disagree. They knew me.

"Your dress awaits," Beatrice said, motioning us forward.

The hallway was covered with a carpet of moss and flowers. Magic or patience could be responsible. I didn't ask which it was. I merely followed her to a medieval-looking room where dresses were hung in waiting.

Light blue and green dresses waited for my bridesmaids. And for me, a mid-tone blue gown that was cut to look a bit like a mermaid's tail. The material was dyed several shades lighter than my hair. Simple, but narrowing at the calf to highlight my shape. It was fancier than I'd thought I wanted, and there was nowhere to hide a sword.

"I'll slaughter the world for you," Beatrice reminded me, noticing my anxiety. "Wear the dress. Relax for these hours."

I nodded and slipped into the dress.

Beatrice stared at me. "I have sent Alice's people away to tend the bridesmaids. I know that is not ‘your style.'"

I muffled a laugh.

Then she leaned forward and placed a circlet of gems on my hair. "This is not a veil. It is not a fae crown. It is in place of those things."

Carefully I met her eyes in the mirror. The crown was obviously a gift, but I could not help but suspect that there was more to it. "You're not telling me everything."

Beatrice waved my words away, reminding me of every time my own mother made such a gesture.

"Today is not the day to speak of everything," Beatrice said. "Later you may question me."

I nodded.

"Today you celebrate your love before your family, yes?" Beatrice fussed with my hair.

Behind me, by way of the mirror, I saw my mother, who had just walked into the room. The three of us stood there for a moment.

Then Beatrice kissed Mama Lauren's cheek. Then mine. "You are my greatest achievements in these many centuries of un-living existence."

Before we could think to reply, she flowed out of the room.

"She loves the way she can," Mama Lauren said. "I remind myself of that often when she is imperious."

"Sounds like you," I teased.

Mama Lauren swatted my arm lightly. "You are lovely, despite that sass."

"Because of it?" I asked.

"Perhaps." My mother's smile was agreeing, even if her words were tentative. "From my long-ago bargain . . . to this wedding, there has never been a risk too great when it came to your happiness."

We talked and finished getting ready in what felt like minutes, although it was almost two hours later that we walked out of the room and toward the courtyard.

I watched as Allie, Sera, and Christy walked toward Beatrice, who was officiating. Then, Jesse stepped forward. My "Man of Honor" had chosen to wait at the front with the ring. He was also in place to hold my bouquet of vibrant flowers.

Halfway up the aisle, then, was my groom. My already-husband. My bound-unto-death fae prince. Handsome in every way I could dream—and mine. Eli was everything I never dreamed to find.

My mother escorted me toward him, and I could not look away.

"Breathe in and out, Gen," Mama Lauren whispered.

"Trying." I smiled at Eli. "He steals my breath."

I knew there were guests, as well but in that moment, I couldn't tell you who or why they were here.

My mother and I reached Eli's side, and she said, "I give my heart into your possession, Eli. Guard her. Love her."

"I shall," he promised.

"I trust you." She stepped away.

As I placed my hand on his arm, I was trembling. This was it. The last ceremony. The final exchange of vows.

"Three exchanges," I whispered, thinking about the rule of three.

Eli smiled as we walked toward Beatrice.

She looked at us, smiled, and said, "The couple would like to say a few words in the presence of witnesses."

"Eternally yours," he swore. "I've waited years to be able to call myself the luckiest person in either world, Geneviève Crowe."

"I was oblivious so long, I'm glad you thought I was worth the wait."

Friends laughed.

"My heart, my hearth, and my hand are yours, Geneviève Crowe. Unto death I shall live and fight at your side. And in us, the future of my family is bound." Eli stared into my eyes. "It is my privilege to love you, and my great joy to be loved by you."

"My heart, my heart, and hand are yours, Eli of Stonecroft. Not even death could tear me from your side." I swallowed. "I love you and will be honored to be mother to your child one day, partner on the throne of Elphame, and the sword at your side."

Then Eli gave me a wicked smile. "I accept your faery bargain, Geneviève of Crowe and Stonecroft. Your terms are acceptable to me."

I laughed at his going off script this time. "So mote it be, Eli of Crowe and Stonecroft."

Beatrice shook her head at our impromptu modification and then asked, "Do you take this person to be your spouse, your partner, your equal in all ways?"

"Unto death," Eli said.

"Unto death," I echoed.

"By the powers granted me by familial law, as well as my court and kin, I pronounce you wed." Then she swept her arms open and stated, "May I present Geneviève and Eli of Crowe and Stonecroft."