“Rhea,” I say slowly, “I need your help.”
There is a sharp inhale. A pause. And then—“Oh my gods,” she breathes. “You’re doing it tomorrow, aren’t you?”
I close my eyes briefly. “Yes.”
The shriek is loud enough to startle a flock of pigeons off a nearby lamppost.
“Oh THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY ENTIRE LIFE—DRAVEN, GET OVER HERE NOW—SLAAAADEIS PROPOSING!”
“Rhea,” I warn, not even bothering to ask what the hell Draven is doing with her.
“Nope,” she chirps. “You’re stuck with us now. Where are you?”
“I’m on my way to the shopping district,” I groan, knowing damn good and well this is about to be a nightmare.
“Perfect! Be there in a second.”
The line goes dead, and I instantly regret my life choices.
They arrive within minutes—Rhea in a coat made of emerald faux fur and unearned confidence. Draven in a black wool trench coat, expression somewhere between amused and resigned.
Draven folds his arms the moment he sees me. “Well, congratulations, little brother. Took you long enough.”
“Draven,” I mutter.
Rhea smacks his chest. “Be nice! He’s trying to do something romantic!”
“Romantic?” Draven lifts a brow. “He’s a demon lord. The last romantic thing he did was burn down a plane of existence because someone insulted his cat.”
“That wasonetime,” I say.
Rhea waves her hands dramatically. “Focus! We have jewelry to find. We’re not getting Piper Bellamy a mediocre ring.”
She marches toward the first boutique like a general leading troops.
Inside, it’s warm and glittering—rows of enchanted jewelry humming quietly under the lights. The air smells like polished stone and dark magic, the kind used for warding wealth and protecting secrets. Rhea drags me from case to case, discarding dozens of rings with the efficiency of a woman who has extremely high standards.
Draven mostly stands behind me, hands shoved into his pockets, offering the occasional commentary like, “She’d never wear that… Too fragile. Piper would snap that in a week…That one looks like something our mother would curse.”
Finally, Rhea stops. Her breath catches, amber eyes widening a fraction. “There,” she murmurs, pointing at a ring nestled in a velvet tray.
My chest tightens—it’s perfect.
A deep, dark green stone—almost black until the light hits it just right—set between two black diamonds that glimmer like nightfall. The setting is elegant and wicked all at once. The band—blackened gold or some metallurgic equivalent used by witch artisans—spirals with subtle runes, old ones meant for protection, devotion, longevity.
“It’s…” I struggle for the word. Too soft, too inadequate.
Draven supplies it. “Her.”
Rhea looks at me, eyes shining. “This is the one, Slade. This is Piper.”
I nod slowly, reverently.
“Yes,” I say. “It is.”
She claps once, giddy. “Good. Now let’s get you a tux.”
Rhea ushers us to the register, and the clerk supplies an old fashioned looking ring box that’s set in deep emerald. It’s exactly what I imagined for this ring. After a few moments of interaction, I’ve placed an order for a custom matching wedding band, and we’re off and onto the next stop.
