"I still hope I can prevent the deaths."
She looks back at me. "I know."
Then she walks out, leaving me in the quiet of the room. I smile to myself, grateful, and a little unnerved. Turns out banshees aren't great at pep talks.
CHAPTER NINE
Asher
While Sage leaves with Maeve and Eira, Donna snaps into full General mode, barking orders, pointing people in directions, assigning tasks like she's commanding a battalion. She's efficient as hell. I've seen enough field operations to know excellence when I witness it. In just over an hour, the garden is unrecognizable.
The vine arch where we'll stand is the centerpiece, bursting with early blooms that shouldn't exist this time of year. Sage did that. Well,wedid that, technically. Nature answered her pleasure with a response of its own.
The grass has been cleared of fallen leaves, the damp patches covered with flower petals. Chairs from every part of the house have been dragged out. It's imperfect, but it works.
Christmas lights fished out of a storage box have been strung along the hedges and trees. The sky's overcast, so the glow already matters. They provide enough light to mark the path Sage will walk.
Kayden and I stand on either side of the arch.
He grumbled about the suit but got into one anyway. I pulled my uniform from the back of the closet. It felt right for this.
And now we wait.
A wedding. A marriage. I never thought I'd stand here again.
My first marriage is a distant memory now, an arrangement of expectations more than passion, but not without care. She died of illness, like so many did back then. It was before Culloden, before the world turned upside down and I stopped being human.
I never remarried. Never thought I could. What I am doesn't leave much room for that kind of life.
Back then, it was expected of me to marry, to carry the family name and tend to the estate while my younger brother ran wild. We lived opposite lives. Still do in some ways, even as we stand here, about to marry the same woman.
The druid waits across from us, calm and ready.
The guests are seated—Donna, Eira, Astrid, Tomas, Jace. Winston stands near the front, shoulders squared. He's the one who'll walk Sage down the aisle. When we asked, he didn't hesitate. And Sage agreed without question. Both seemed genuinely happy about it.
The door opens… and I forget how to breathe.
She's wearing a deep green dress threaded with red along the skirt, shimmering stripes sewn in by hand. Donna had the dress in her stash. The red came from repurposed decorations, and Tomas, the old-school soldier with all kinds of skills under his belt, stitched them in.
But it's the way she wears it that makes the moment stop.
Her hair is braided and woven like a crown. Her face is lightly done, subtle makeup that brings out every delicate, devastating feature. She looks like something out of a fairytale. A nymph dressed for ceremony.
She smiles, first at me, then at Kayden, then clings gently to Winston's arm.
They start down the aisle, following the path of glowing lights and fresh blooms. The chill in the air doesn't touch her. She looks radiant.
This was meant to be protection. A part of our strategy to shield her against Darius. But watching her come toward us, something tightens in my chest and refuses to release.
Because it doesn't feel like strategy. It feels like fate.
I glance at Kayden. He's completely focused on her, jaw tight. I know that look. Stricken. Wrecked in the way only something true can wreck you.
He feels it too. Probably even more than I do, because he lets his emotions bleed out while I keep mine reined in. Always have. But for him, this—her—it's a kind of lifeline.
He's been drifting for years. Maybe even before we were turned. The months since that blood-draining incident, he's been volatile, unstable, searching for something without admitting it to himself.
And now, standing here, I think he's found it. It's ironic that the very woman who lured him into a trap is the one anchoring him.
