“Marry me again,” I said, my voice shaking with everything I couldn’t name. “Not because you have to. Not because of fate. But because you choose me, again and again, even when the fates are cruel and the stars try to tear us apart.”
She cupped my cheek, her eyes brimming with tears. “You’re my home, Lore. I choose you. Always.”
For a moment, we simply remained there, breathing each other in.
Rising, I slid my arms around her, and pressed my forehead against hers. “You saw all the parts of me, from those I kept hidden to the ones masked by fate. You healed me, and one day soon, we’ll walk in the sunshine. Laugh with the joy of knowing this part of our lives is over, that we only have the wonder of endless days ahead.”
“I saw you right from the start.” Her smile was wobbly, beautiful. “You were being an ass, but that was nothing new. Still, I thought, he’s clever and gorgeous and more insufferable than I can bear.”
I barked out a laugh. “Yet you married me.”
“I’d do it a thousand times over.”
I kissed her, one hand cradling the back of her neck, the other teasing across her throat.
When we pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed, and she was breathing hard, her lips kiss-bruised and her veil askew.
Utterly perfect.
“Are you ready?” she asked, her voice strong and certain.
“Evermore, Wildfire. Evermore.”
I offered my arm, and when she took it, I flitted us to the tower room where Justifar was waiting.
The elder's face lit up when she saw us, her eyes taking in Reyla's ethereal beauty and the magic I'd woven around her.
“Now this,” Justifar said with deep satisfaction, “is how a love marriage should begin.”
Chapter 44
Reyla
The tower had never been more silent, nor more glorious than it was tonight. Stone walls caught the silver glow of the moon and held it, while the floor shimmered with the remnants of Lore’s magic. I spied petals, threads, beads of dew drifting like starfall. I held his arm as we stepped into the center of the room, the pulse in his wrist thudding steadily beneath my fingertips.
Justifar stood waiting, dressed in a red and silver robe, her hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes were bright with joy, and her gaze flicked between us like she was watching a miracle unfold.
“You’ve always made the fates work a little harder,” she said softly, looking at Lore with a knowing smile, then turning her warmth on me. “And you, Reyla. What a wonder you are. I thought I knew what devotion looked like. Then I watched the two of you try not to fall in love.”
My low laugh rang out. “We didn’t do a very good job.”
“No.” Her smile widened. “And thank the fates for that.”
She stepped closer and lifted her hands. The tower responded to her presence. Or maybe it responded to us. A low hum moved through the stone, like the castle itself held its breath.
“Long before walls were carved from cliffs and crowns were forged from starlight,” Justifar said, her voice threaded with quiet power, “the fates weave a path for every soul. Some are short. Some are cruel. And some, rare as a twin eclipse, are tangled so tightly with another that even time cannot separate them.”
Her eyes found mine. “Tonight, we honor a binding that was begun in duty, shaped in strife, and reforged in love. The fates do not preside over this bond. Only choice. The stars and moon above will bear witness.”
She turned to Lore.
“You, Lorick, King of Evergorne, have seen the fullness of this woman’s spirit. Her fire and fury, her strength and scars, her boundless heart. Will you walk with her, not only as ruler and consort, but as her equal for eternity?”
His low voice came out strong and sure. “I will. In this life, and every one the fates dare give me after.”
“And you, Reyla, Queen of Evergorne and scourge of cowards,” she said with a spark in her eyes, “have seen the truth beneath this man’s thorns. His burdened mind, his tempered power, his unguarded soul. Will you stand with him, not only as wife and sovereign, but as mirror and match?”
My throat burned. “I will. Always.”
