But he recovered quickly and opened the small book between his hands. He gestured to their spots in front of him. “Please stand here.”
Ronan used a hand on Dominique’s hip to position her where the cleric pointed.
“Ronan!” she hissed. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Face the cleric, Princess.”
For the first time since he met her, Ronan swore that Dominique blushed, her eyes darting to the side toward the officiant, then to the other side toward the guests. But she didn’t do as he said.
“Ronan—”
He stepped closer, cupping her face with his hands. “Face the cleric, Dominique. Marry me. Forget about the guests and my parents. This is about you and me.”
She hesitated, which was driving him crazy. He knew he didn’t deserve her, that he hadn’t started their relationship the way he should have, but the overwhelming urge to claim her rode him. He needed the certainty that she was his or he would never be able to let her out of his sight.
“Are you sure?” she whispered. “I don’t want you to regret?—”
He interrupted her again, hating the uncertainty in her voice. “The only thing I regret is letting my own anger cloud my vision for so long. If I hadn’t been so determined to blame you, I would have realized what you are to me long ago and neither of us would have been alone for the past twenty years.”
Her changeable eyes were the color of a tropical ocean, the mixture of blue and green breathtakingly vibrant. She studied his face for so long that he feared his words hadn’t gotten through to her.
Finally, she whispered, “All right.”
With that, she turned toward the cleric, folding her hands in front of her, showing him the proper respect.
With a sigh of relief, Ronan did the same. He barely listened as the cleric spoke, only moving when he asked for their hands. Dominique’s palm was warm and soft on the back of his hand as the cleric wrapped a length of embroidered silk around their fingers, wrists, and extending halfway up their forearms.
For the first time, Ronan felt the magic in the ceremonial words. In the phrases he and Dominique repeated in the faetongue. Though he wasn’t fluent, he understood enough to know what he was promising.
I vow to walk by your side from today and into eternity.
I will carry you when you are weak, giving you my strength and my sword.
My love for you is vaster than the ocean and will outlive the stars in the sky.
You are my heart and my breath. I will treasure you with my body and soul.
Though Dominique wasn’t a warrior, her vows were the same. Ancient fae females battled beside their males. Now, most fae women only wore ceremonial swords at important events—such as weddings or funerals. There were still female warriors, but not as many.
Their voices wove together as they repeated the vows, this time in unison. Ronan felt the warmth of his magic spreading through him and into Dominique. Simultaneously, he could feel her magic intertwining with his. It felt like sparkling wine—tart and cool, but effervescent. It bubbled beneath his skin, lighting him up from within.
When they turned to face each other, he could see the shadows of his magic beneath her skin. Mixed with the golden tones of her power, it seemed to glow a deep, sapphire blue rather than black.
As they completed the vows, ending them with a final sentence, Ronan reached out and threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, his thumb pressed to the skin just below her ear.
I seal this vow with a kiss, given freely and with my love.
His pulse thundered in his ears as he leaned forward, his body so full of magic and love that he wasn’t sure he could contain it all. Dominique’s aquamarine eyes stared steadily into his as their lips brushed lightly. Once. Twice.
She opened her mouth beneath his and he tugged her closer, trapping their tied hands between them. Suddenly, the magic inside him swelled until it seemed to burst, showering the sky above them with the shimmering gold and midnight colors of their blended powers.
The weight he’d been carrying for the past thirty years, the darkness of the curse that seemed to drag him down, was gone. He felt light and…free.
He drew back, staring down at Dominique, meeting her wide eyes.
“The curse…” she murmured.
“I know. It’s gone.”
