“I am not cold,” Sera said—primly—but nonetheless pressed subtly closer to him. “But I wouldn’t object to a fire. Or wine. And perhaps… lemon cake.”
“Cake sounds excellent,” Charlene said. “Violence and dessert always pair well.”
Maddie turned to Sebastian, her voice softer now. “You truly came for me. Even when you thought I might have agreed to… this ridiculous engagement.”
He looked at her then—really looked at her—and let everything he felt pass through his gaze.
“I always will,” he said simply.
The vicar stepped forward, still clutching his little book, voice wavering. “My apologies—I didn’t know—”
Sebastian silenced him with a single glance. “You can forget this ever happened.”
The man nodded so fervently that his wig shifted sideways.
Paisley muttered something unintelligible, slumped in the corner with red eyes and what little remained of his dignity. No one looked at him.
He wasn’t worth it.
Sebastian laced his fingers with Maddie’s. “Come,” he said. “Let’s put this place behind us.”
She stepped into his side without hesitation.
They walked down the aisle, not as bride and groom—but as partners. Equals. The others fell in around them like a shield wall. Unruly, brilliant, loyal. They were friendship made flesh. Found family. Home.
Outside, the carriages waited.
So did the wind. And the snow. And the world.
Maddie glanced up at him as they stepped through the chapeldoors. Her smile was soft and sure, the weight of the day finally shedding from her shoulders.
“Wherever you are,” she said quietly, “there is my home.”
He squeezed her hand. “And I’ll be there. Always.”
The door swung shut behind them.
And in its place, came warmth.
And freedom.
Chapter Thirty
Back at the castle
Sebastian entered thestudy with a calmness that disguised the fire roaring through his blood. The heavy oak door shut behind him with a final, echoing click, and the hush that followed was sharp enough to cut.
Paisley stood near the hearth, cravat askew, color high, a bead of sweat glinting at his temple. The kind of man who feared scandal more than consequence. Who believed his title would shield him from the weight of his actions.
Not tonight.
Sebastian’s boots echoed on the polished floor as he advanced. Behind him, Thomas, Rotheworth, and Prince Alexander formed a quiet, immovable wall. But Sebastian carried the room. His presence. His fury. His control.
He stopped three paces from Paisley.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he said, voice mild. Too mild.
Paisley attempted a smirk, but it landed crooked. “This is all a misunderstanding.”
