He was standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, watching her with a small smile on his lips.
“Where are we?” she asked, tipping her head back. The cliffs were so tall she couldn’t see where the waterfall even began. Even in the dark, the full moon illuminated everything with a soft white glow.
When he didn’t answer right away, she turned back to him. His eyes flickered to the waterfall and back to her. “Lunae Falls,” he finally answered. “A temple lies behind the falls, but the waters only flow under a full moon.”
She whirled back to the waterfall, the spray like sparkling starlight under the luminous orb in the clear night sky. “You’re serious? Are there people in the temple? Are they trapped there when the waters aren’t flowing? Inside the cliffs?”
“Why would I lie about that?” he asked, coming to her side and glancing at her sidelong. “And no, Kailia. No one is trapped inside the cliffs or the temple. We can come back tomorrow and see if you’d like. I know the circumstances around all of this are unconventional. Despite that, I still wanted the night to be memorable.”
“It would have been memorable either way. Practically speaking,” she said, drifting closer to the water’s edge and farther from the cliffs. “But this is…not what I imagined tonight would be like.”
He huffed a laugh. “And what did you imagine, tiny fiend?”
She shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. Just a standard union ceremony, I suppose.”
“About that,” he replied, shifting to face her. “Things are different in Avonleya in many ways, and one of those ways is our union ceremonies. Some choose…something different.”
She stared back at him. “All of this is already very different from what I’ve observed in other places, I assure you,” she replied flatly.
“Different traditions for different cultures, I suppose,” he said. “But you will need to choose where your Mark goes.”
“I mean, the hand is common, is it not?” she asked, perplexed.
“If that is what you choose,” he answered. “We do things our own way.”
“Our own way,” she echoed, her dreams chasing her memories.
He nodded as a figure appeared from the trees, a glass bowl in her hands. Her dark skin glowed in the moonlight, and her hair was piled atop her head, while a silver circlet adorned her brow. Her bare feet were soundless on the ground, and she came to a stop before them, placing the bowl at her feet.
“Thank you for coming, Niara,” Cethin said with a smile.
The Witch returned it, clasping her hands in front of her. “There are few I would do this for. You are one of them,” she replied. Then she turned to Kailia. “You are doing well?”
She nodded, unsure why the Healer was here. “I am.”
“While Niara is our primary Healer, she is also the High Witch of Avonleya,” Cethin explained, but Niara rolled her eyes, the moonlight making the brown color look almost violet. “A title she does not like to flaunt,” he added with a wink. “She rarely performs these rites.”
“But exceptions are made for some,” Niara finished. “Are you both ready?”
Cethin glanced at Kailia, and she nodded, briefly wondering what he would do if she said no. If she suddenly changed her mind. He’d made it clear he wasn’t about to let her go any time soon. Or ever, considering he’d reminded her multiple times that the union was binding.
“Step into the water,” Niara instructed, and Kailia suddenly realized why Cethin was barefoot.
He stepped into the lake first, deep enough for the water to meet his ankles, the water lapping at the hem of his pants. Then he reached for her hand, keeping her steady as she did the same, the train of her dress floating atop the surface like a night sky with its silver detailing. The icy waters distracted her from the burn of his touch. The burn she’d been mentally preparing herself for all day.
Niara stood on the shore, stooping down to pull a braided cord of silvers, fiery orange, and blacks from the water.
“Place your palms together,” she said.
Confused, Kailia looked at Cethin. Unions required merging blood by slicing their palms with ceremonial daggers. But Cethin was holding his hands up, palms facing out and towards her. He nodded in encouragement, and tentatively, she did the same. Bringing her hands up, she pressed them against his, so much larger than her own.
“A rope representing your bloodlines, bathed in water enchanted by the moon,” Niara intoned, beginning to wind the braided cord around their wrists in an intricate fashion. “As the rope binds your hands, your souls also bind.”
Her bloodline? She didn’t know what her bloodline was, but something in her soul warmed. Not the burning of a physical touch, but something…more.
“The gods,” Cethin said softly. “The colors represent the gods our magic comes from. I had it made the day you agreed to the bargain.”
He had?
