Everyone stood around while Pelz directed the servants to pass out the cake and flutes of bubbling champagne.
Tarron was a picture with his dreads sporting the wedding colors of lilac and spring green. The matching black tux to Alistar’s that he wore was done so out of protest, but Peyton had stood her ground. Tarron held up his flute and announced, “A toast to the bride and groom.”
“Hear! Hear!” sounded all around.
He held up an index finger. “One moment. I have something to read.”
Alistar groaned, then grunted when Peyton elbowed him in the stomach.
“Upon further research,” Tarron said, “I believe I’ve found the perfect passage for the two of you.” He cleared his throat, holding up a small piece of paper.
Beside her, Alistar had stilled. Peyton’s skin rose in goose bumps from head to toe.
Tarron recited:
“By the blessed power of Saint Sarah la Kali
From this day forth, and ages beyond,
On the birth moon of the seventh son
Cast issue of your soul by three and thirty
Madness ’ere you’ll fall, the rest of your long and natural life.
Heed me thee as I vow,
Only love and blood blended by mine and thee
Shall free your blackened soul.”
Alistar’s hold on her tightened as she gasped. “Only love and… and…”
“And blood blended by mine and—” Alistar downed his champagne, then set his glass on a tray that appeared like an apparition held by Pelz. Gently, Alistar pried Peyton’s glass from her stiffened fingers and took her by the shoulders, turning her to face him.
“And, er, thee…” Her face flamed. This was not exactly how she’d intended on telling him.
“You’re” —he leaned in and whispered—“pregnant?”
“I tried to tell you a minute ago.” Her voice sounded like a cornered mouse to her own ears. “Are you angry?”
“Angry?”
“It’s not like I did it on purpose… It’s not like I knew anything. Damn it, it was your curse—”
“Oh my God.” His mouth slanted over hers.
Peyton wrapped her arms around his neck and drank him in. She would never let him go.
Never.
Epilogue
A
rt Alliance, September 2019: Victor Ouego’s pleasing subjects continue to delight the masses, while Mary Bouché’s use of light works wonders. Jess Aldis still meanders down his brooding path, but as witness to some of his more recent, yet private collection, I feel confident in predicting there is a light at the end of his long, dark tunnel… Peyton McKenzie
Final Legacy of Forrest Spears, sixth Earl of Griston:
