9. Cassie

9

CASSIE

I leaned back in the wooden chair, spine popping as a sigh escaped me. Two weeks of non-stop prep had left its mark – my eyelids were heavy, but there the content of completed work filled me. With still more to be done, true, but much was complete.

Today, I had two chefs to interview in person and a florist to choose via a video call. The thought alone made my spine straighten a bit.

"Busy day ahead," I muttered. I couldn't keep relying on Aiden for lifts, so I'd be taking the helicopter.

My days had melded into a pattern: read a chapter, organize a part of the wedding, listen to a song, repeat. Franklin's shadow cleared a bit with each passing day, my mind warming and rejuvenating like tilled earth under the morning sun.

Music helped. I'd sway alone to the tunes, pretending not to wish Aiden was dancing with me.

And the flirting – nothing too bold, just enough to feel a flutter now and then. Aiden's presence was a strange blend of comfort and excitement, something I hadn't anticipated.

"Florists and chefs, that's the agenda." The lingering thoughts of Aiden would have to wait. There was work to be done. First, getting breakfast.

I was pouring coffee when Aiden strolled in, a smear of dark ash across one perfect cheek, dusting his clothes. His blond hair somehow looked gorgeous despite the fact it looked like he'd combed it with firecrackers.

"Morning," I said flatly, pushing a mug towards him without a question. "Today is about food and flowers."

He poured himself coffee, the ash dusting from his sleeve falling like gray snowflakes onto the counter.

"Sounds festive," he said with a half-smile.

"Off to London to test out some chefs," I told him, watching for a reaction.

His grin grew, blue eyes lighting up in that way that made my heart do somersaults. Without thinking, I stepped closer and planted a quick kiss on his lips, curious what he'd do this time.

Aiden responded with a light press of his own lips against mine, then lifted my hands to his mouth and kissed each in turn. "I'll see you there," he promised, leaving a trail of soot on my skin from his hands. "I'll bring some seasoning, too, so you can really test these cooks."

"London's a big place, Aiden," I teased, but he just winked and walked away, leaving me to wonder exactly how he planned to find me.

The helicopter landed, and I gathered my bag, still mulling over Aiden's words. How he'd find me was beyond me. But then again, Aiden was full of surprises.

A taxi ride later I stepped into the private kitchen for the taste test, I arranged my notes and peered at the up-and-coming chefs bustling with anticipation. They were about to be thrown a curveball they couldn't have expected.

"Good afternoon," I greeted them, just as the door swung open once more. Aiden sauntered in, changed and no longer ashy, nonchalantly carrying several small containers filled with powdery substances in colors that didn't belong in any earthly spice rack.

"Thought I might add a little interest to the menu," he said, locking eyes with me as he put the counters on the table. "Exotic, but harmless, I assure you."

One chef raised an eyebrow, taking a cautious whiff of the contents. The other chef, emboldened or perhaps just reckless, shook a small amount of the powder into his palm and tasted it directly.

"Interesting..." he murmured, eyes distant

Fine, I'd play along. "Let's see what you can whip up. Something simple, like... eggs?"

One chef sprang into action. In moments, the air filled with the scent of butter and eggs mingling with the unknown seasonings. The other shook his head and walked out.

Aiden leaned against the counter, watching them work with an amused glint in his eye. He caught me staring and flashed a smile.

"Trust me," he mouthed.

I could only hope that his confidence was well-placed.

"These seasonings," I began, gesturing to the array of vibrant powders lined up beside the stovetop. "Would you consider using them in the wedding menu?"

Chef Francois Legrand, with his salt-and-pepper hair and keen blue eyes, paused and glanced towards the containers. His lips curled into an intrigued smile. "Ms. Quinn, they are unlike anything I have tasted before. Tell me, where do they hail from?"

"Alfheim," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, conscious of how fantastical it sounded.

"Ah, Alfheim!" he exclaimed, chuckling as if I'd shared an inside joke. But the twinkle in his eye suggested that he wasn't entirely disbelieving. "Well, then, incorporating a touch of magic into your sister's special day could be quite the talking point."

"Magic indeed," I murmured, watching him deftly fold the seasoned eggs onto a plate.

"Let's ensure they're safe for everyone first," I added, more to myself than to him. I had no intention of a disastrous incident.

"Of course," Chef Legrand agreed, distributing samples for us to taste.

The flavors exploded on my tongue, a symphony of new and delightful tastes. Aiden watched, a shadow of concern flickering across his face until he saw my satisfied nod.

"Then it's decided," I said decisively. "Yes, we'll use them."

"Excellent! This will be an adventure." Francois's enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself grinning back at him, feeling a rush of excitement.

"Thank you, Francois. I appreciate how much effort you're putting into this."

"Anything for your happiness, Ms. Quinn." He winked, and I felt a warm flush spread across my cheeks.

Just then, Aiden's phone buzzed insistently. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting from relaxed to annoyed in an instant. "I have to take this," he said, stepping away.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Potential earthquake," he said tersely. "I need to go."

"Be safe," I called after him, but he was already out the door.

I spent the rest of the day wrapped in a whirlwind of decisions and discussions, none of which filled the sudden void left by Aiden's abrupt departure. The video call with potential florists only deepened my frustration. The floral arrangements offered were lackluster, failing to capture the beauty and excitement I'd wanted.

"Nothing is right," I muttered to the screen after ending the call.

With a defeated sigh, I turned off the lights and trudged to bed, unaccustomed loneliness creeping in like an unwelcome chill. I missed Aiden's easy presence.

Along that road lay danger. After a long hot shower, I closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep and whisk me away from thinking about anything.

It seemed only a minute later I woke to a knock, with hazy morning light filtered through the curtains. Aiden's rumpled form leaned against the doorframe, the door open.

"Good morning, Cassie," he said, bright and cheerful.

"Hey," I replied, sitting up in bed. "You look wide awake. Did you manage to get any sleep?"

"None," he admitted. "But I don't really need it, either. I had to deal with a... situation. It took some convincing to stop the earth from shaking."

"Shaking?" I echoed, puzzled.

"Some of my associates had grand ideas about redecorating parts of California and Washington state," he explained with a hint of exasperation.

"Redecorating?" My concern gave way to curiosity. "How do you stop an earthquake?"

"Power, work, a fair bit of yelling at the people who set up the situation. But forget that for now." He straightened up, a smile playing on his lips. "If you're up for it, I have something to show you. Flowers."

How had he known about yesterday's flop?

"Really?" I sat up in bed, energized by the prospect. "I'd love to see them. Leave so I can dress"

"Great." He shut the door, and I pulled clothing on.

Minutes later, I found Aiden waiting with his horse, Cu, who looked beautiful with ribbons in his starlight mane. Aiden offered his hand, helping me mount behind him. Instinctively, my arms wrapped around his waist, holding on as we trotted away from the house.

We passed through an invisible barrier, the world around us blurring momentarily before snapping back into focus. The air felt different—charged with a familiar energy that tingled against my skin.

"We're going to Alfheim, aren't we?" I whispered, recognizing the sensation from before.

Aiden nodded, urging the horse forward. "Yes, to find the perfect blooms for your sister's wedding."

Cu slowed to a gentle trot, and the landscape opened into an expanse of wild beauty. My gaze swept across the field, where flowers of every imaginable color and kind bloomed in riotous abundance. I slid off the horse before Aiden could offer his hand, my feet sinking slightly into the soft earth.

"Wow," was all I managed, my eyes wide with wonder.

Aiden dismounted with ease. Cu blurred, then a silver dog stood in his place. He barked once, then flopped to the ground next to me. I took the hint and scratched his head. His tail thumped on the ground.

From the saddlebags now lying on the ground, Aiden pulled out a wicker basket, flashing me a grin. "I thought we might enjoy a small feast amidst the flowers."

"Picnic?" I raised an eyebrow. "Here?"

"Where better?" He gestured at the sea of blossoms around us. "You can pick your favorites, and we'll celebrate your choices."

My heart fluttered at the thoughtfulness as he laid out a blanket and began unpacking the basket. There was bread, cheese, sliced fruits, and a bottle of wine nestled among ice packs. The aroma of fresh food mingled with the floral scent of the field, creating an intoxicating blend.

"Let's explore a bit, shall we?" Aiden suggested, offering his arm. "Then we can come back and eat."

"Lead the way," I said, slipping my hand through his arm as we wandered through the explosion of petals and scents. Somehow, each managed to be distinct without the entire aroma being unpleasant or overwhelming. Alfheim magic.

The further we walked, the more I realized how special this place was—each flower unique and more exquisite than the last. It felt like stepping into a painting, one where the artist had lavished attention on every brushstroke. The picnic waited for us, a promise of rest after our ramble through this enchanting corner of Alfheim.

Suddenly, the tranquil air split with a sharp cry. I jumped back as two figures burst through the underbrush, each clad in shimmering armor that caught the sunlight in dazzling patterns. They locked eyes with Aiden, their expressions full of fierce determination.

"King." Both bowed hastily, but with superhuman grace. "We seek your judgment."

Aiden's arm tensed beneath my hand, and he sighed, his gaze hardening as he regarded the duo. "Now is not the time, Caelum, Norian."

"Apologies, my lord," the one named Caelum said, his eyes darting towards me before quickly looking away. "But the matter is urgent."

I could feel Aiden's annoyance radiating like heat from a flame. He stood taller, the playful light in his eyes replaced by a flare of anger.

"Very well," he replied curtly, releasing my hand. "State your grievances."

The two elves exchanged a glance.

"Forgive us, your Majesty, for the inopportune time," Norian added, his voice suggesting he spoke for form's sake. A steely undertone suggesting this duel they spoke of wasn't something they would set aside easily.

I stepped back, giving Aiden space. His expression was a cold mask now, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of loss for the peace of just moments ago.

Aiden turned to me, his voice even. "Cassie, do you mind if I settle this matter now? Or do you wish me to send them on their way to return at a time of our convenience?"

I hesitated, the sudden shift from our intimate escape to this formality jarring. "Yeah, go ahead."

My curiosity was piqued despite myself.

The two elves stepped away from Aiden and me, drawing their weapons with a grace that belied their intent. The air crackled with tension, an electric promise of violence.

"Begin," Aiden commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The clash was swift, steel ringing against steel, as the elves moved with lethal precision. They were blurs of motion, their duel a dance of death. I flinched at the sound of flesh being torn, a grimace etching itself across my face.

Aiden stood by me, implacable as stone, eyes tracking each movement with clinical detachment. There was no hint of discomfort, no wince at the brutality unfolding before him.

The fight ended almost as quickly as it began, one elf standing victorious, the other crumpled on the ground. My stomach churned, the taste of bile rising.

It was one thing to know casual violence was a part of his world, another thing to see it in action.

"Enough," Aiden's voice cut through the aftermath, and the victor sheathed his weapon with a respectful nod.

"Your judgment has been passed, my lord," he said, bowing slightly to Aiden.

"See to the wounded. I don't want him here right now," Aiden replied, then turned back to me, his expression unreadable.

"Let's see more of the flowers," he suggested casually, as if we'd merely witnessed a minor disagreement rather than a savage bout.

"Sure," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper, struggling to process the casual violence. I couldn't help but notice the blood – dark and stark against the delicate petals of lovely flowers. My heart raced, remembering other fights, my head pounding.

Aiden followed my gaze, his brow furrowing for a moment before he waved a hand, murmuring words I couldn't catch. The blood vanished as if it had never been, but the image lingered in my mind, a shadow that no magic could erase.

"I think I want to go home now." My voice was steady, but inside, I felt anything but. There were too many emotions swirling within me, too much confusion.

"Of course." His tone was gentle, almost apologetic, and with another incantation, we were back on the island, away from the fields of Alfheim.

"I'm sorry it ended this way. I'll return with the dawn," he murmured to me as we crossed the threshold of the castle. Then he was gone.

That evening, in the quiet of my room, loneliness crept in on quiet feet like a cat looking for a treat. I sat at my computer, staring at the tenth change to the seating arrangements, my thoughts drifting. Aiden was attractive, yes, and there was an undeniable connection between us. But we were worlds apart, literally. Could this light-hearted flirting lead to anything real? And did I want it to?

A lump formed in my throat. No tears, Cassie. You're stronger than this. Even damaged, you're healing.

I straightened my back, focused on the screen and began clicking and dragging names into different places. It was mundane work, but it took a lot of thought, the perfect distraction. Hours passed, blurring into a haze of names and table numbers until my eyelids grew heavy, and eventually, I slumped back.

The morning light woke me from fading dreams of silver roses. Groaning, I levered myself out of the chair and shuffled to the window, stretching.

A sweep of color across met my eyes, occupying an empty patch of earth where brown scrub and struggling grass had grown before. Flowers. Not just any flowers, but the exact ones I had admired most in Alfheim.

"Oh my," I whispered, pressing my fingers to the cool glass. Aiden had brought a piece of that magic here. For a fleeting second, warmth bloomed in my chest.

He cared. He was involved. And as King, others of his people might follow in his footsteps. A flicker of concern followed the warmth in my breast.

I turned from the window. With many other elves involved, this wedding could turn into a spectacle of chaos. Defined boundaries were needed—rules.

Standing by the computer, I started typing a list. 'No talking food,' I wrote. 'No itchy dresses.' The more I considered the possibilities, the longer the list grew.

A lot of what I came up with would have made middle schoolers proud, but that was the level elf humor seemed to prefer.

"Payment," I murmured to myself. What could I offer Aiden for his help in enforcing these rules? It struck me: an invitation to the wedding and a favor he wouldn't refuse—a willing conversation with Bran. Guilt pinched at my conscience for using Bran as a bargaining chip but ensuring the wedding went smoothly was my priority.

"Sorry, Bran," I muttered, even though he wasn't there to hear my apology. "It's for the greater good."

I took a deep breath and continued typing. If this list kept the elves in line, then maybe, just maybe, I avert impending madness.

I clicked 'send' and watched as the email vanished into the digital void, off to Bran with all its potential bargained promises.

Almost instantly, a ping sounded—Bran's reply popped up.

"If it keeps elvish jokes to a minimum, consider me enlisted," he wrote. I could hear the tone of voice he'd say it in with my head, dryly amused.

One less thing to worry about.

The door creaked open, breaking the silence of my makeshift office. Aiden sauntered in, then paused, frowning.

"You didn't rest well last night."

"True," I answered, softer than intended. I reached for the jar on the desk, plucked out a piece of candy—a peace offering or maybe a bribe—and pushed it across the table toward him. While elves didn't need to eat, Aiden was very fond of sweets.

The sugar glinted under the room's lights, a small, bright red gem against the gleaming wood.

"Need your help," I continued, meeting his gaze. "We've got to make a list. Your elves will need...guidelines for the wedding. Since I had a flash of intuition they plan to crash it."

I couldn't suppress the big eyes I made at him—the expression was absurd, but absurdity was my new normal.

Aiden's eyes sparkled as he took the candy, turning it over in his fingers. "A list of do nots, hmm?" He quirked a brow, curiosity piqued.

He wasn't denying the potential of wedding crashers either.

"Exactly," I confirmed. "If anyone's going to turn the bouquets into pythons or the champagne into pixie dust, it'd be them."

"It will be a long list," Aiden said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a half smile. "Requiring careful thought. Finding a way around it will become a hobby for some, so Leave a few harmless loopholes."

Aiden's lips brushed my cheek in a gentle kiss before he sat down opposite me.

"I'll owe you for this," I said.

"Yes," he said simply as the candy disappeared between his lips. He leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Given the size of the task, I'd say a make-out session is not out of order as payment."

"Payment?" I echoed, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Making out as a payment? Not what I had in mind."

Aiden reclined, resting his elbows on the back of the chair with casual poise. "Cassie," he began, a note of earnest inquiry lining his voice, "every time you've graced me with a kiss, I have offered a token in return. Is that not the custom among humans?"

I felt my face flush, a mix of indignation and humor swirling inside me. "No, Aiden," I said, the words falling between a laugh and a scold. "When I give a kiss, it's given freely. No strings attached, no gifts necessary."

He looked puzzled for a moment, as if the concept of unbartered affection was strange to him. "But why not do something you want to anyway as a payment?"

Was it really worth going over all the unfortunate human implications of his idea, or should I accept he was an elf and roll with it?

I considered the rogue gleam in Aiden's eyes.

Roll with it.

"All right," I said, feeling a rush of daring pulse through me. "Let's get on with this 'make-out session' then. I'm still not considering it as paying for anything, but you can take it as you want."

He didn't need to be told twice. Rising from his chair, he closed the distance between us, a predator's grace in his every step. The air seemed to hum as he approached, and my heartbeat quickened. Crouching next to me, he cupped my face gently, his touch feather-light but sending ripples of heat cascading down my spine.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble.

"Absolutely," I breathed out

Our lips met, and it was nothing like the light, teasing kisses we'd shared before. This was a claiming, a melding of breath and desire that tore a gasp from my throat. Aiden's mouth moved over mine with a hunger that stoked the fire within me, his kiss deepening until the world narrowed down to the taste of him, the press of his body against mine.

His hands roved over my back, pulling me closer, leaving trails of searing warmth wherever they touched. My fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him nearer still, craving the intoxicating mix of tenderness and raw need he evoked in me. Our breaths mingled, ragged and urgent, as if we were drawing life from each other with each voracious kiss.

The room fell away, the list forgotten, as Aiden and I locked in an embrace that drove niggling unpleasant thoughts right out of my head. Nothing on weddings, or what needed to be done.

There was only the joy of being wanted, of me wanting in return—freely, fiercely, unshadowed by past hurts and the weight of expectations.

When we finally broke apart, chests heaving, faces flushed, Aiden tapped my nose. A silent agreement that whatever this was between us, it was worth exploring. It was worth the risk.

I moved my computer, and we sprawled across the couch, sheets of paper strewn around us like the aftermath of a snowstorm. Aiden's hand brushed mine as we both reached for the same pen, and his touch sparked a warmth that spread up my arm.

"Okay," I said, trying to focus. "New first item: do not enchant the food to talk or sing when bitten into." I scribbled it down, glancing at him to see if he grasped the gravity of the rule.

"Reasonable. Food often has no sense of pitch," Aiden replied with a nod.

No, not going to ask.

"Next, no itchy clothing enchantments. That's just cruel."

"Agreed," he said. He leaned over to write it himself, his arm brushing against me, his proximity sending a shiver through my body.

I cleared my throat. "And keep the flower petals in the baskets normal. We don't need a mountain of petals following the flower girl down the aisle."

"Quite reasonable," he murmured, inches away now. His breath warmed my cheek, and I fought the urge to turn my face toward his.

"Also, absolutely no bouquets turning into snakes. That's horror movie material."

"Imagine the screams," Aiden chuckled softly before catching himself. "No snakes, then."

"God, this is gonna be a long list," I muttered, my hand pausing mid-sentence.

Aiden looked at me, his gaze intense and sincere. "It will be as long as it needs to be, Cassie."

Our eyes locked. The pen dropped from my fingers as Aiden cupped my face gently, pulling me in for a deep kiss. His lips moved against mine with a tender urgency, conveying promises and desires without words.

As the kiss deepened, our hands roamed again, rekindling flame that had only been banked. His fingers traced the curve of my spine, sending tremors of longing coursing through me.

"Maybe," I whispered against his lips, "we should take a break from the list."

"Perhaps we should," Aiden agreed, his voice husky.

He picked me up, hurrying up the stairs to my room without needing to breathe heavily. Lean and strong, this elf.

In my bed next to me, he traced the lines of my face. With every gentle kiss we shared, I felt old wounds lessening, made less tender by trust and mutual desire.

"Beautiful," Aiden murmured. His touch was tender, and I nipped him.

"I'm not made of glass," I breathed.

As if he'd been waiting for the invitation, his kisses and touch became fiercer and more demanding, and I answered that demand. Hot and wild, as if he'd devour me whole, and I returned the favor, lingering on the beautiful lean length of him.

As he moved to settle between my legs, he paused.

"You're ready?" he asked, midnight blue eyes searching mine for any sign of discomfort.

"Yes. Move," I breathed.

Our movements took on a primal rhythm, the air charged with the electricity of our union. I clung to Aiden, my anchor in the maelstrom of sensation. Waves of pleasure crashed over me, and I cried out, and Aiden stiffened and joined me in my leap.

In the aftermath, as we lay entwined, I listened to the quiet thud of his heart. The world could wait.

I marched across the dew-covered grass to the small cluster of gathered elves, clutching the thick stack of papers to my chest. The list Aiden and I had composed had grown to ten pages, a detailed compilation of do's and don'ts—mostly don'ts—for the wedding. I carried multiple copies.

"Remember," I said as I came to a halt, "if you attend, you must promise by your name to abide by this list."

The elves gazed at me with curious and interested eyes that belied their solemn nods.

That expression meant trouble, I'd learned.

"Here." I handed over copies of the list.

Slender fingers flicked through it rapidly.

"And just so we're clear, not all of these rules are for the wedding day alone. Some are... let's say, more about general behavior in the human world." I crossed my fingers.

"Thou shalt not make all traffic lights green at the same time," Matilda read aloud, arching an eyebrow.

"Exactly," I said firmly. "Do you understand the importance of these guidelines?"

"After we've read it. I'll meet you again later today," said Matilda, glazing from face to face. The others nodded, and they retreated to their steeds.

I exhaled sharply as they left, feeling a strange mix of authority and anxiety. Who would've thought I'd be trying to integrate elves into the modern world?

Here's hoping there were no arguments. As I walked back to the castle, I mulled over the list in my head. It was comprehensive, exhaustive even.

But with the elves' proclivities, it felt necessary. And if it helped prevent any problems at the wedding, it would be worth every hour putting it together.