When we finally pulled apart, both breathless, I rested my forehead against hers.
“Still want to stay?” I whispered.
She laughed, the sound pure joy. “Try to make me leave.”
“Never. You’re stuck with me now, wife.”
“Good, because I plan to fill this entire castle with joy magic until even the stones themselves learn to laugh.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Around us, the celebration began again. The musicians struck up a lively tune, and people began pairing off to dance. Servants circulated with bloodwine. The joy lanterns blazed brighter than ever, fueled by the happiness filling the room.
I kept Cyrene close, unwilling to share her with anyone. We had a lifetime ahead of us, one full of challenges and triumphs, of magic and love, of building a kingdom where vampire and witch could stand side by side as equals.
For now, though, I simply held my wife and let myself be happy.
“Your Majesties?” Lord Broadworthy strode over, his expression warm. “If I may say so, that was the finest performance of the Shadow Rite I’ve witnessed in my many years.”
“Thank you,” Cyrene said, her cheeks pink.
I smiled at the old advisor who’d always supported us. “I suspect the credit belongs to my talented wife.”
Cyrene elbowed me gently. “It takes two to dance, husband.”
“Indeed it does.” Broadworthy’s eyes twinkled. “And if I may be so bold, Your Majesties, it’s good to see this castle filled with light. With hope.” He bowed. “Your parents would be proud, King Kieran.”
He eased back into the crowd before I could respond, but his words settled in my chest. My parents—and my great-grandmother as well—were watching over us, approving of the path I’d chosen.
Lady Aragorn approached next, her expression carefully neutral. She curtsied low to both of us.
“Your Majesty, Your Majesty,” she said formally. “I must apologize for my…skepticism regarding your union. It’s clear I was mistaken about the strength of your bond.”
It was as close to an apology as we’d get from her, and more than I’d expected.
I inclined my head in acknowledgment. “We all want what’s best for the kingdom. Sometimes we simply disagree on what that looks like.”
She straightened, relief flickering across her face. “Indeed. If I may be of service in the future, please don’t hesitate to call upon me.”
As she retreated, Cyrene leaned close. “Did she just offer to help?”
“Politics,” I said softly. “She’s read the room and adjusted her position accordingly. The court has accepted you. To stand against you now would be to stand alone.”
“Should I trust her?”
“Cautiously. Francine serves herself first, but she’s competent and connected. Better to have her working with us than against us.”
Cyrene nodded, already understanding the delicate dance of court politics. She’d learn the rest quickly enough.
The evening continued, filled with dancing and celebration. At some point, Quandary appeared, perching on Cyrene’s shoulder and chirping happily. Several nobles approached to congratulate us, their earlier doubts forgotten in the face of Cordelia’s endorsement.
As midnight approached, I finally stole Cyrene away from the festivities, leading her out onto a balcony overlooking the castle grounds. The night air was cool and clear, stars scattered across the sky like diamonds on velvet.
“Tired?” I asked, wrapping my arms around her from behind.
She leaned back against my chest. “Exhausted. Exhilarated. Happy.” She paused. “Relieved.”
“That Rathley’s gone?”
