The word left Viktor in a hurry, laughter chasing it.
His bride was waiting for him in the garden.
And at last, he was ready.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Line of Seraphim
Forged in fire. Sealed in secret. Bound eternal.
Lightning danced across the evening clouds, each strike a lantern lit by the heavens, guiding the path that wound down the hillside. The air smelled of rain and lilac.
Wind brushed Viktor’s collar, stealing his breath as if the sky itself awaited what was to come. Juliet walked ahead, but Gabriel stayed beside him—steady as stone, more comfort than silence.
The herbal garden glowed with orbs of golden light strung across posts. Servants and kin—elf and human alike—gathered in reverent hush.
At the front stood Evander, offering Juliet his arm, and beside him Saecily waited beneath a grapevine arbor, a book of vows open in her hands. Viktor’s chest eased at the sight of The Midnight lingering behind her, the boy’s curls falling into his eyes. He was there—just as promised.
“Here,” Gabriel whispered, nudging Viktor forward.
Viktor stepped into the circle that opened around him.
“May I?” Saecily asked, pointing to the rings.
“Of course.”
He lifted them from his chest, the metal warm against his palm—heat meeting the cool evening air.
And then—he saw her.
Amerei.
His bride.
She stood at the meadow’s edge like a vision pulled from starlit frost, draped in a gown of purist white that shimmered like moonlight over snow. The silk clung as if stitched by the stars themselves. Glass beads traced her seams, scattering light with every breath she drew. Thin straps kissed her shoulders; a daring slit revealed the smooth length of her leg.
Her hair spilled in soft waves, crowned with silver—delicate, like something woven by the sea’s own hands. At her breast, her amethyst pendant rose and fell with the flutter of her breath. Lace veiled the tops of her fingers, and by the stars, even her hands looked like poetry.
His heart struck hard against his ribs.
She was luminous. Untouchable. His.
Heat gathered beneath his skin, restless as fire meeting winter air. Every beat urged him to claim her—to tear past ritual and vow and make her his before all the world—but he held fast, vow already carved into bone and blood.
If Gabriel hadn’t tugged at his sleeve, he might never have remembered to breathe again.
Storne appeared from the shadow of the hill, taking his daughter by the arm. He led her toward the arbor, sunlight’s last gold threading through the canopy.
“Who comes to stand the threshold,” Saecily asked, voice soft, “to bring forth the bride of this union?”
“I do.” Storne’s tone rang like tempered iron. “I come to honor the path she’s chosen—that she may step forward with the strength of her house behind her, and the blessing of those who have walked beside her.”
“Let the earth remember this moment,” Saecily called. “Let the stars bear record of her name. Amerei, do you come of your own free will?”
“I do.” Her gaze flicked once to Viktor. “I come to stand beside the one I’ve chosen.”
Viktor could barely hear over the roar of his heartbeat. That look—one glance, no more—and it nearly undid him. There was nothing else in the world. Not her father, not the gathered kin, not even the stars blazing above.
