She started her own vows with, “I knew I’d be emotional marrying the love of my life, but at this point I think we’ll all agree I ought to have been sedated.”
They were funny, and earnest, and madly in love. It made my heart squeeze painfully. I’d never been to a queer wedding before, and I hadn’t expected it to be any different, but it was as if they gave me permission to want this for myself one day. I’d grown so used to the idea it could never happen, that it was only a possibility for people who didn’t live life on the run.
As they sealed their vows with a kiss, the warm weight of Kessian’s arm pressed into mine, and I allowed myself one more ridiculous, far-fetched delusion. In it, I’d get up early to make him tea the way he liked it. I’d take it to him in bed, where he’d be stealing a few more minutes to doze. Lunaris would soak up the sun streaming in through the window, just a calico cat no longer burdened with being my home and my only friend. Kessian would wake, and maybe the tea would go cold as we got lost in each other, or maybe we’d just cuddle and talk about the day ahead. The first time we talk about marriage it would be a joke about eloping to a beach where we’d write our vows in the sand, commit them to the sea while getting drunk on margaritas, but neither of us would be joking. Not really.
I want to find something with just a shred of plausible permanency. And I can’t ask that of you after a week, and you can’t promise it to me, either.
The wedding ceremony was beautiful, but it wasn’t the only reason I had to hold back tears.
In the intervening hours between canapes and photography sessions, I mingled with the other guests and ate an embarrassing number of smoked salmon blinis.
Marlowe found me plucking a champagne flute off a tray and said, “First or second?”
Third. “What’s a wedding without a few refreshments?”
He nodded his agreement. From the ruddy flush of his cheeks, he’d had a few himself. “No leads yet on that lost contract?”
“It would be convenient if someone gave it to Fae as a wedding gift.”
“Wouldn’t it just?”
“We’ll figure it out … The wraith’s been connected to me so long, and now Kessian’s the Keeper, maybe all the pieces are finally coming together.”
Marlowe’s expression crumpled. “Hold on, now. Kessian’s the Keeper?”
“Yeah. Sorry, I thought we’d said.”
Marlowe had such a mild-mannered attitude, his sudden intensity threw me off. “That’s … odd.”
“Why?”
“It normally passes down through families. I wondered why your mum and I never felt anything different. I guessed maybe it went to you.” He shook his head, expression pitying. “It drove your grandad half mad trying to find a solution to your problem. I wouldn’t wish that on Kessian. It shouldn’t be his burden.”
“Why do you think it should be ours?”
Before he could answer, Amelia grasped my elbow. “Have you seen Kessian lately?”
“No, what’s wrong?”
“I was going to say a little toast to you both for saving me, but I can’t find him.”
Fear swallowed me. My first thought was the wraith. I’d checked it this morning, still sealed within the sigil and a warded shed with no sign of either spell weakening.
I was being paranoid. No one would be mad enough to risk freeing it. I’d check the bathrooms first. Maybe Kessian was having an outfit malfunction.
In the loo, I tentatively called out his name.
An even more tentative “Tal?” answered.
I followed it to a shut stall. “Amelia’s looking for you.”
“I, er …” A deep sigh. “My hand’s locked up. Waiting for the painkillers to kick in.”
“Can I come in?”
The door clicked open and I closed it behind me. Kessian sat on the lid of the toilet, massaging his wrist.
“I guess I’m not used to walking with a cane. Maybe I’m not doing it right, putting too much pressure on it.”
