Marry us? With pleasure. “I hereby declare,” I called to the skies, to the warriors around us and even to the wind, “Taron Locke is now my husband. Behold your new king consort! He is the Tempter of the Primordial Phoenix, the Realms Most Ferocious Dragon, Elite Procurer of Ancient Weapons and Rare Toxins, and—” I paused for dramatic effect, then whispered for his ears only, “Professor Hotpants. If he agrees, of course.”
“I belong to your queen, and she belongs to me,” Taron called out, lifting his voice over the thunderous cheer. “I’ll end anyone who tries to take her from me. She is my firebrand. My wife, Mrs. Olyssa Locke-Drachenveil.” For my ears, he added, “Keeper of my heart. Treasure of treasures.”
The crowd erupted again, wild andfree. The war was over, and my family curse was broken. And I—Mrs. Olyssa Locke-Drachenveil, my new favorite title—finally, irrevocably belonged to Taron, and he to me.
“Let the honeymoon begin,” I cried, my happinessbubbling over. “The official ceremony with the other berserker royals can wait until after I’ve had you all to myself for a few days. Or weeks. Ja, definitely weeks.”
“Make it a month,” he murmured. “I have… fantasies.”
Shivers danced down my spine. “Ja, please and thank you.”
With a grin full of promise, he adjusted his grip on me, flared his smokewings, and launched into the sky. We landed on the balcony of our royal suite, where we promptly shut the doors and ignored every single knock. Fordays.
I texted Adelaide only once, and only to tell her to add a second throne to the dais. Right next to mine.
The honeymooneventually ended when we were forced to leave the suite for the Ceremony of Blood and Heart.
I rocked a long, flowing gown spun of black opals and starlight with veins of pink throughout. Taron wore head-to-toe battle-leathers and looked like a dream with a wedding band.
After a private and very naughty tea party for just the two of us, we flew to the circle of ancient traveling stones and entered a world known for being neutral territory for all berserkers. We remained inside the traveling stones, now in a forest filled with oaks and beeches that towered high like guards, their leaves filtering the sunlight. The scent of wildflowers welcomed us as we arrived in the clearing. We were the last of the royals to arrive.
Nine kings stood in their doorways, one per stone,keeping a respectful distance. Griffin. Bear. Turul. Wolf. Manticore. Lynx. Adder. Gargoyle. Kraken.
This was tradition. A ritual of allegiance. A declaration:This is my person. A strike against them is a strike against me.
So far, only two other royals had wed. King Callen of the Wolves loomed tall beside his very pregnant firebrand, a brunette schoolteacher who, rumor had it, had once been soul-switched with a homicidal socialite.
Viktor, the still-feral King of Turuls, waited next to his firebrand, a beautiful animal groomer. I’d heard whispers that her mother was the very goddess who’d imprisoned the primordials for centuries in an attempt to rule over us all.
The groomer waved to the schoolteacher and said brightly, “If you need help with delivery, I’ve birthed more puppies and kittens than I can count!”
The schoolteacher laughed. Her husband beamed and rubbed her belly as if he’d never held anything more precious.
Taron pressed a hand to his sternum and scowled. “The dragon isn’t happy to be here.”
“I know.” I leaned into him, offering comfort. “Royal berserkers don’t love proximity to other royals. It makes the beasts inside… twitchy.”
Even my phoenix flared at the ultra-high level of tension. Except for the peace wafting from the two couples, the air hung thick around us with warning heat. Ancient instincts on edge.
“That’s why we only meet inside our stones,” I added. “And why we keep it short.”
King Malachi canted his head. His sharp suit gleamed like polished coal, and he leaned against the stone frame like the movie star he was. “Let me get this straight,” hesaid. “Your American firebrand took over your dragon, you died, rose from the ashes as a phoenix, and instead of murdering each other, you cuddle now?”
“Exactly.” I nodded solemnly, sensing precisely where he was heading with this. “And no, I don’t owe you an unnamed boon for wedding an American. You let him through the traveling stones, so I consider us even.”
He sighed. “That’s debatable but acceptable.”
My gaze swept the circle and landed on Sebastian, King of Krakens and seduction itself. Ethereal. Mysterious. Dangerous. The man who may or may not be Bronwyn’s firebrand.
Of all the royals, he was arguably the most beautiful. But a moral compass? He had none. He was known to discard women like they were tissues. However, the true danger of him was his inherent cruelty. I thought he might enjoy the torment he inflicted on others.
Worry for dear Bronwyn grew. Even still, I understood her attraction. Rays of light hit him, revealing hints of a pearlescent sheen, reminding me of the inside of a seashell. Threaded through his black hair were silver streaks that resembled moonlight reflecting off water. His irises possessed starburst patterns that shimmered with the luminous sheen of ocean glass, constantly shifting color. From stormy blue to green-gold, to ink-black. Anyone who held his gaze for prolonged periods of time experienced sea sickness.
He noticed my perusal and smiled in a way that could topple a kingdom. “Is there something you wish to ask me, Olyssa?” The words slid from his tongue as if part of a song. Or a spell. “Or just something you wish you could have?”
Poor Bronwyn. For her sake, I didn’t rise to the bait.
Taron bowed up,gearing for a fight.
