“If that’s what you want, I’ll drag them there myself,” he vowed. “I’d like Alice there too.”
Whatever he had to do to marry her, he would.
Clover didn’t have a beautiful wedding dress or flowers in her hair for their wedding day. She had on a pair of pants, her dusty boots, and a loose button-down she’d borrowed from her sister.
It didn’t bother her, because all she cared about was marrying Amos. The prince stood in front of her in equally dusty books, his everyday clothes, and a hat indent in his hair.
For fae weddings, all you needed was holy oil, a way to pierce the skin, and for royals, both parties entering into the union willingly. Without willingness, the mate bond didn’t solidify, and the royal magic didn’t pass on to the spouse.
Marjorie skipped over to Clover, vibrating with excitement. “I made this for you!” She held out a mangled bouquet of desert roses, tied together with a pale yellow ribbon.
Clover widened her eyes and gasped dramatically. “You made these yourself?” Marjorie nodded. “Grandma Trinity helped me pick the flowers.”
Clover took the bouquet and wrapped her free arm around the little girl. “I love them. They’re beautiful.”
Marjorie beamed and turned shyly to Amos. “Grandma Trinity said you can pin this to your shirt.”
She held out a single desert rose with a tiny yellow bow. Amos knelt down and held his vest taut. “Can you put it on for me? I don’t want to mess it up.”
Marjorie’s little cheeks turned red, and her smile was blinding. “I won’t poke you with the pin,” she promised, as she carefully took the pin out of the ribbon. Her little tongue anchored between her teeth as she concentrated on her task. “You look really nice, Your Grace.”
Amos ruffled her head and stood, glaring at the small crowd over his shoulder. “Who told her to call me that?”
Marjorie giggled. “Sariah!”
Amos lifted a brow at Sariah, who looked at Marjorie in disbelief. “You little traitor.” She darted after the little girl, catching her around the waist to tickle her. “Giving away Hydra secrets already?”
Marjorie squealed, and Clover glanced at Amos. What would their child look like? Would they be silly like Marjorie or serious like their father?
“If you don’t like being called Your Grace, we can always call you Your Highness,” Rainer suggested. “Does that sound more regal to you?”
Amos scowled at his cousin. “Like the Garden Kingdom royals? That’s worse.”
Clover rolled her lips together to keep from laughing. “You don’t like the Garden King and Queen?”
Amos shook his head. “They’re pompous jacka—” He glanced at Marjorie. “—jerks.”
“Sounds fitting.” Rainer grinned. “Your Highness.”
Amos shot his cousin a crude gesture, and Clover lost the battle with her laughter. Her mate whipped his gaze back to her. “What are you laughing at,Your Highness?”
Clover’s laughter faded. “I don’t need a royal title.”
Amos grabbed her hand and yanked her close. “Too bad. After today, you’re officially a royal.”
It hadn’t really hit Clover until now that she’d technically be a princess. She poked him in the side. “Are you done bickering? I’d like to marry you before I leave, if you don’t mind.”
Her joke killed Amos’ good mood and she wanted to yank the words back. They didn’t need a reminder that Rainer would take her back to the Human Kingdom as soon as the ceremonywas over. She grabbed his hand, already counting down the days until she could move home.
Amos gazed down at Clover as Sariah ran through their vows. They were generic vows commonly used for fae weddings, but the words didn’t matter to Amos. Nothing they said would accurately depict his love and obsession for the woman standing in front of him.
Not a day had gone by since he met her seven years ago that he hadn’t thought of her, and on the day he broke her heart and watched her leave, he’d been tormented by her absence for years.
Amos had suffered at the hands of his father, wishing for death more times than he could count, and his hands were stained red from the terrible things he’d done in the name of revolution. But with her, none of that mattered. She filled the emptiness that tried to consume him.
Clover wasn’t his other half—she was all of him. Every piece of him existed because of her, and he would spend the rest of his life ensuring she knew that.
His mate poked him in the side again. “Are you paying attention?”
