Finally, the bride and child reach the dais and stop before Thorne. The three link hands and stand before the trellis, where a human minister awaits. What follows is a ceremony that somehow blends human wedding traditions with a heavy dose of fae influence. They exchange rings, speaking vows that are personal to their relationship. I shiver at the sound of their promised words. With Thorne being half fae and Briony pureblood, their vows are binding. Not just legally but magically.
Just like the bargain I made to never marry.
A vow I physically cannot break.
And the bargain I made before that, to never tell a soul about my lineage. I can’t even write it down or try to relay the truth without words, for part of my bargain included notlettinganyone find out. The only reason I didn’t suffer the harmful consequences of breaking my bargain when my goblin lender read my secret with his magic was because I had no say in what he did. No intention to convey my secret. I’ve never been brave enough to test it any further. Not when breaking bargains means death, and the circulation of the secret I carry means the ruination of my family name.
My lungs tighten, but I narrow my attention on the bride and groom. On their love for each other. Their eyes sparkle as they hold each other’s gaze, repeating words that bind their love. Then the minister directs them to face Tilly. The young girl looks surprised, even more so when Briony slips a ring off the tip of her pinky finger and hands it to Thorne. He places the ring on Tilly’s index finger, and her wide blue eyes well with tears.
“Do you, Tilly Blackwood, take Thorne and Briony to be your beloved parents?”
Oh fuck.
My chest lurches, my throat constricting. Tears glaze my eyes and this time, there’s nothing to stop them. Especially as the girl sobs, nodding her head. Then even more so as Thorne, my stoic best fucking friend, states his vows to be her father.
Tears stream down my cheeks, and there’s no hiding them.
For the love of the All of All, I’ve taken pleasure in pain before but this is on a whole new level. This erases my soul from the face of the earth and builds it back up. Purifies me. Tears me to shreds and then stitches me back together.
This is love.
This is family.
This is what I’ve always yearned to see, in all my half-jested attempts at matchmaking. I’ve always been desperate to prove love is real. That it looks different from how it looked during my childhood. That it’s warmer than the loveless marriage my father had with his wife—the woman who pretended to be my mother yet never fully loved me, despite her warmest efforts, despite never having received such love from my father aside from their mutual fondness for Angela. I wanted to see that it looked different from the mother who left me without hardly a backward glance. That it looked different from Cosette, who chose someone else only to beg to have me back, without any true adoration for me. Only desperation.
Thisis it. This is what it’s supposed to look like.
I glance at Daphne. She watches the couple, head tilted curiously to the side, as if she too is realizing the same thing. That this is what a wedding should be. This is what she deserves, not a rushed pairing just to get out of her handfasting.
Her gaze slowly slides to mine and my heart stutters. Can she see the truth on my face? How badly I want this for her?
No…
It’s not just that.
I want this for her…yet I don’t.
I want her to be freed from her handfasting. I desperately do. She can’t be stuck in her hometown when she wants to be an illustrator. She can’t be chained to a goddamned honey badger who doesn’t share her vision for the future. She needs a husband to sever that tie. Yet I don’t want to think of her up here with anyone. No one.
No one except for…
I swallow the thought as if banishing the lump in my throat might keep my feelings at bay. Feelings that are growing harder to ignore.
Daphne’s expression turns soft. She must see the tears on my cheeks. Her own eyes glaze with a sheen of moisture and she gives me a subtle nod. A silent assurance that it’s all right.
It’s all right to be moved.
To feel.
But is it truly all right to feel? When the one thing I’m starting to feel the strongest about is something I can never have?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DAPHNE
Inever knew a wedding could be so beautiful. I’ve heard of lovely weddings. Of the extravagant ceremonies that have become popular amongst humans and seelie fae. But this is my first time witnessing one. It’s so different from how I imagined it could be. When I entered seelie society, all I knew of marriage was its practical aspects. The importance of making a fine match based on certain statistics. Even amongst the working class, most of my peers marry quickly, especially those who favor human values of chastity and propriety, the whole of their relationships formed in view of chaperones and friends. It’s what I resigned myself to when I decided a husband would be the surest way to get out of my handfasting.
It was enough for me. I hadn’t experienced sexual attraction to a specific person before, so what did it matter how I found my husband? I figured I’d enjoy him well enough, so long as he fulfilled my purposes. So long as I could continue to paint.
