Her heart kicked up. The bond pulsed warm, carrying his anticipation mixed with steady certainty. He was ready. Had probably been ready since proposing that morning.
"How do I look?" Maren asked.
"Like you're exactly where you're supposed to be," Freya said.
They descended the stairs carefully, Sage leading the way with her handful of extra flowers. The apothecary's main room had been transformed. Candles everywhere, casting warm light that reflected off glass bottles and dried herbs. Kieran stood near the fireplace, his hazel eyes warm with approval. Lucien lounged against the wall, arms crossed but expression softer than usual. Emmett filled the doorway to the outside, his broad frame blocking the view beyond.
And Tristan stood in the center, wearing dark clothes that made his ice-blue eyes stand out sharply. The spell-circle over his heart was visible through his partially open collar, silver lines pulsing faintly.
He smiled when he saw her. Small but genuine, transforming his normally controlled expression into something that made her chest tight and loins heat up.
"Hi," she said, suddenly shy.
"Hi yourself." His gaze tracked over her, lingering on the shadow veil. "You look like…"
"Like moonlight," Freya supplied helpfully.
"I was going to say perfect. But moonlight works too." He offered his hand. "Ready?"
"Very." She placed her hand in his, feeling the bond pulse stronger at the contact.
Emmett cleared his throat. "Since I'm apparently officiating this, we should probably start.” Emmett pulled out a worn book, flipped through pages. "We're here because these two decidedwaiting was pointless. Smart choice, given how long they've been circling each other like confused predators."
"Emmett," Tristan warned.
"Right. Serious now." Emmett looked at them both. "Marriage is choosing someone every day. Not just today, when everything's new and the bond's fresh. But tomorrow, when things are hard. Next month, when the town tests you. Next year, when life throws challenges you can't predict." His gaze moved to Maren. "You're taking on a mate who's lost before. Who knows what it means to love and lose. He'll be overprotective. Probably drive you crazy with it."
"I can handle it," Maren said.
"I know you can. That's why you're perfect for him." Emmett turned to Tristan. "And you're taking on a mate who's been hunted, feared, isolated. Who's learned to survive by keeping everyone at arm's length. She'll test your patience. Probably run when things feel too good because that's what she knows."
"I know," Tristan said quietly. "I'll bring her back every time."
"See that you do." Emmett closed the book. "The fancy words don't matter as much as the choice. So I'll make this simple. Tristan Ash, do you choose Maren Pitch as your mate, your wife, your partner in everything that comes next?"
"I do." No hesitation. Just absolute certainty.
"Maren Pitch, do you choose Tristan Ash as your mate, your husband, your anchor when shadows get too dark?"
"I do." The words came out strong, clear.
"Then by the authority vested in me by being the only Council member willing to do this on Christmas night, I declare you married." Emmett smiled. "Kiss her before she changes her mind, Ash."
Tristan didn't need telling twice. He pulled Maren close, one hand cradling her face, and kissed her thoroughly. The shadowveil dissolved, wrapping around them both instead of just her. The bond flared bright, sealing marriage on top of mating, layering commitment until it felt permanent in the way that mattered.
Sage was giggling, Freya was wiping tears, and even Lucien looked pleased.
"Welcome to the family," Kieran said, clapping Tristan on the shoulder. "Such as it is."
"Such as it is," Tristan agreed.
Moira hugged Maren carefully. "You deserve this. Happiness. Belonging. All of it."
"Thank you for believing that before I did."
"That's what friends do."
The evening dissolved into quiet celebration. Freya produced food that appeared from nowhere. Kieran opened wine that tasted like summer despite winter cold outside. Sage showed Maren her entire flower collection, explaining which ones meant what. Lucien and Tristan discussed patrol schedules like that was normal wedding conversation.
