Valerie’s blade was at his throat before he could speak again. “No, Mom,” I said, pushing the blade down as Talon fell to his knees, his face buried in my dress. “I know what this is.” I kneeled and pulled Talon’s face away from the cloth before he could stain it with tears. His eyes were unfocused, filled with longing and something darker.
I asked the questions Talon was incapable of in his state. “Valerie, who made this dress? Or touched it? Where did it come from?”
“I thought I told you,” she said, her voice still filled with trepidation. “Angel, the woman who works down at the docks in Verdan City.”
Talon rasped. “What does she look like?”
“She has red hair,” Valerie said slowly. “Flame red. With eyes the color of moss, an odd gray green. She’s maybe twenty, but her eyes… She’s seen too much to truly look young. She’s thin, too thin. And scarred.”
“Scarred, of course.” Talon’s voice was raw and double-toned, and he looked down at his hands as if he would cut them away from his body. “Angel is the name she’s using?”
“Yes.” Valerie’s knife was still held in a firm grip. “That’s what the children at the docks call her. No one knows who she is, where she’s from.”
“I do,” he gritted out, his eyes still flaming. “Please excuse me, sister. I must go.” He was halfway out the door, his waistcoat off and his wings unfurling before I could draw a breath to speak.
“Talon! It’s a good thing your trousers are leather.”
He turned, anger and resolution mixing with confusion on his face. “Why?”
“Because when you find Angel, you’re going to be groveling for at least ten years. Leather will help your knees survive the apologies.”
His laugh was short, a bark of humor and desperation, and then he was gone. Shouts came from the hall outside, and Valerie stepped up next to me, holding out her arm.
“May I walk you to the ceremony, daughter?”
“I wouldn’t want anyone else,” I replied, as we exited the room together.
The ceremony was to be held at the sacred site on the beach, but Havirans lined the entire passage there, their hands filled with tropical flowers they cast in front of me so that every step I took released a cloud of glorious fragrance. Many of them had eyes filled with tears, as well, and they whispered prayers of gratitude, my name, and the wordlarkial, over and over. Valerie’s grasp on my arm grew tighter as we approached the broad stone where all four of my mates waited, dressed in wedding finery.
Kavin stood closest, and took my arm from Valerie, nodding his thanks as she stepped to the side to stand by Wulfram. Kavin wore his father’s fur cloak, the glass eyes in the dead wolf’s head staring out over his own wild red and gold hair.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Nice hat.”
Kavin blushed. “It’s a Starlakian custom,” he explained, his eyes darting to Wulfram, whose expression was a mixture of pride and regret. “It means my father, our warlord, blesses our union and honors me as a worthy warrior.”
I gripped his arm and gazed up into his sparkling turquoise eyes. “You are worthy, Kavin.”
Smiling, he handed me to Icarus, who bowed, wings outstretched and sparkling with a pronounced golden sheen in the late afternoon sunlight. The leather of his wings had changed permanently after our mating, and he wore the physical sign of my Omega bond in his skin. When I stood in strong sunlight, I had noticed a patterned change in my own skin as well, almost as if there were miniscule scales hidden just below the surface. “You look magnificent,” he said, his eyes full of fire.
Before I could reply, he spun me around to face Altair, who held high a strange collar of beaten gold and gemstones. Pitching his voice so the crowd could hear, he intoned a series of phrases in Haviran I didn’t fully understand before gently settling the necklace over my head to rest across my shoulders.
“What did you say?” I murmured.
“I performed the traditional royal coronation, in ancient Haviran. It marks the formal passing of power to your line. I said, ‘I give my country into your keeping, my life into your hands, and bind my heart to yours until the ocean runs dry.’” I lifted a hand to his face, and he closed his eyes, allowing the small moment. Then he pulled me gently to the last man, who waited without his cloak in the bright light.
His expression was placid, but his golden-brown eyes shone with so much love, my heart ached. “Roya.” Thorn took my hand in his, the corners of his mouth turning up as he examined me. “My beautiful, fierce little queen. I do not have a country to give you. I do not have a fortune, or a crown, or an island. I am no prince.”
I opened my mouth to tell him I didn’t need anything, that he was enough, but all four of my mates suddenly formed a tight circle around me. Their attention felt heavy on me, filled with an intense, passionate focus. All I could do was wait.
“The Goddess only knows where the future may take us, Roya,” Thorn continued. “But wherever you lead us, we swear to serve you alone. Lead us, little queen, and we will follow.”
As one, they all kneeled before me, as if I were not just their mate, but their queen. It struck me then that it was true.
I was a queen. My heart stuttered, the reality of my new status making me reel.
I knew I was supposed to turn to the people gathered around us and verbally accept my four mates. Altair had helped me memorize the ritual, and the crowd grew restless, waiting. But my throat was thick with tears. I would start sobbing if I so much as spoke.
I drew a shaky breath. My face trembled as the first tear fell. My cheeks burned. After all the preparations, was I really going to mess this up now? I frowned, the familiar heat of anger coming to the rescue.
