I wasn’t going to ask any of that.
Axel follows my gaze to the egg sitting in the center of our table. “Are you worried he’s going to waltz in here and steal our egg?” He arches an eyebrow. “Because with it sitting right there, literally anyone could do that.”
I probably shouldn’t just have the egg basket sitting on the kitchen table, but I like having it close. I can’t explain it. It’s certainly not something I ever thought I’d be saying, or something I ever thought I’d have, but I love my little egg. Axel insists there’s something in there, something that he and I made together.
And I love it already, even though I have absolutely no idea what’s going to come out of that shell.
Or when it will ever happen.
That’s what gets me the most, really.
“It could be a year before this thing finally comes out to meet me, so I’m going to take it with me everywhere.” I slide the basket over and rest my left hand on it while I eat my lasagna. “I know you think it’s weird, and that’s fine, but if it could hatch any time, then I need to keep an eye on it all the time.”
He shakes his head, but he doesn’t argue with me.
Men just don’t get it.
The voices surge right then, making it hard for me to hear what he’s just asked, and I blink and shake my shoulders. All the head-shaking was causing headaches, so I’m trying to knock them back in other ways.
“Are the voices still calling for Jörð?” He frowns. “I don’t like it.”
“Yeah, me either,” I say. “In fact, you could say I hate it. At least when my mom died, she didn’t leave me drowning in ghost-like prayers and demands. I swear, if I was half as annoying as the stupid idiots always whining in my mind, Jörð should have just saved herself the trouble and stabbed me a hundred thousand years ago.”
He laughs. “You’re going to be a great mother when that egg hatches. Have I said that yet?”
I shove him. Hard. “Hey, you can’t stay stuff like that.”
He slides his chair over until it’s flush with mine. “You can’t teach me to be sarcastic and then not let me use it.” He kisses me then, and I know—between the bond and the way he touches me—that he thinks I’ll be a good mother.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“Thank you,” he says.
I laugh. “You know, when we get married, you can’t say that. You have to say you love me, too. No one else will get it. It’s a weird you and me thing.”
He’s beaming. “I don’t know—saying I love you too feels like a really big commitment, and we just have one egg together. It hasn’t even hatched yet.”
I glare.
“Oh, fine.” He nods. “I’ll say I love you, even if saying thank you instead would be way funnier.”
I roll my eyes, but I wish I could freeze this moment. This casual happiness is what I want to have forever. It’s what I want our wedding to feel like.
“The wedding you humans care about so very much isn’t really that important,” Axel says. “The dress and the vows and the people watching.” He shrugs and he drops his hand on mine. “I know it matters to you, so I hope it all goes perfectly, but what we have?” He bites his lip. “It’s already forever.”
I know he’s right.
During the day leading up to the day of the ceremony, I fight with George a lot. “I know you wanted a small ceremony, but like it or not, your wedding is now an act of state.”
“It’s not,” I say.
“It is,” he insists. “Your future husband leads his people, and there are a lot of them.” He drops his voice. “They’re also very, very powerful. The humans who are bonded to the blessed and the ones who aren’t, they all want to be here. They’re demanding it, and anyone you don’t invite is going to?—”
“I’m about to disinvite you,” I say. “Axel and I are going to portal to Vegas and get married by Elvis.”
Who’s Elvis? Axel’s in dragon form several miles away, helping the other earth blessed prepare our wedding dais and the seating for the guests, but he can still hear every word, of course.
“Don’t ask,” I say. “It’s just a threat.”
