58. Brett

The spring meeting of the clan council was in Pelican lands, and it was always everyone's favorite council meeting of the year. We scheduled a week for it, so that everyone could relax and sit on one of their lovely golden beaches in the sun.

It was warm and sunny and beautiful, as though to make up for the long, hard winter we'd endured, and that was where Paris and I were officially married.

He was shocked at the idea that men could not only have relationships that were accepted by everyone in Nemedan society, but could be formally married. Partnership wasn't about the possibility of having children for Nemedans, though. We were promising to be a vital part of each other's lives for as long as we lived. Nothing about that required a man and a woman, only people who loved and respected each other.

So we promised that; to spend our days together, to care for each other and give when needed, take when in need, and always, above all, be there for each other. Rosaline cried, in rather a different way than she had the first time I'd married. All of my friends patted us on the back and drank a toast to our long, happy future together.

Well, mostly, Minerva made eyes at Paris's little sister, because it seemed that was a thing. I wondered if I needed to give them a little speech about the dangers of Avianitis, but Minerva was clever. She knew.

But then, so had I, and I'd ended up in the situation regardless.

Maybe it wasn't a bad idea to have a talk with Minerva in private, just to remind her what she risked.

Paris, who had been chatting with Nestor about their coming citrus crop at the feast that followed, drifted back over to me, a dreamy smile on his face.

"Did you get your oranges?"

"Lemons," he corrected with a wide smile. "King Albany wanted oranges, and I don't give a damn what he wants anymore. But lemons? Maybe I can figure out how to make my mother's old lemon cake. It also makes a wonderful sauce with butter. Lemons are so much more useful than oranges. And Chief Nestor said he'd send me a wagon full of them as a wedding present. He's such a lovely man."

I narrowed my eyes in pretend suspicion. "Is he now? I know people think he's quite pretty, but?—"

Paris fell into my lap with a carefree giggle. "Don't be ridiculous. The man is happily married. With like eighty-five kids."

"At least," I agreed. "Maybe ninety. They're a prolific lot, the Duck." It was a ridiculous exaggeration, but it didn't matter. Just like I had no worries that Nestor was flirting with my husband. The Duck bastard might flirt with anything that moved despite being married, but he was harmless, and Paris?

Paris was with me, as I was with him.

Hawks, after all, mated for life when they had that choice.

A thump across from us grabbed my attention, and we both looked up to find Hector, whose health was much improved over the intervening months, sitting in a chair across from us. As was usually the case with Hector, he looked deadly serious.

I understood it. Like me, he'd been responsible for the day to day caring for his family for many years. He felt the burden of that responsibility more deeply than most people I'd ever met. Worse, he seemed to be struggling with letting go of any part of it.

"Hector," Paris said, still smiling. "Have a drink. It's a celebration. I'm married."

Hector did manage to muster a smile at that. I thought he truly was happy for us. He just didn't know how to be happy all that well. It was a foreign entity, having and being enough. "I'm very happy for both of you," he agreed, ducking his head. "But I was talking to that fellow from the Falcon Clan."

I winced. While the Falcon were recovering from their alliance with the Eagle, that didn't make it a happy thing. Nemeda as a whole hadn't yet forgiven them their complicity with a traitor, whether they'd had a part in the worst of his behavior or not.

"He asked me when Paris was going to spend his year on the wall." A stone dropped in my belly, and I stared at him. I'd done extra years on the wall. Surely those could be counted for others in my family retroactively, and Paris was that now. Hector continued doggedly on. "So I asked Killian what he meant, and he told me everyone is required to spend a year on the wall, defending Nemeda from the southlands."

Paris cocked his head, then turned to me. "You've mentioned that before, people's ‘year on the wall.' I remember. Do I need to spend a year on the wall?"

"No," Hector said with a sharp nod, and for just a moment, I was relieved, even though I had no idea where his determination came from. Then he said the words I knew I'd spend the next three years worrying about. "Because I told Killian I'm going to do everyone's year on the wall. Yours, mine, and Helena's. I'll purchase what I need, and go right away."

Fuck.

So much for a long, quiet period of rest after my own wedding.