“Bastards,” Tauren snarls. He scrubs his hand over his jaw. “This is so unlikely, and yet I want it so badly to be true, I’m willing to try anyway.”
Claren shakes his head. “She’d need enough power, and the animal would’ve had to have been willing to put its soul into her dying body.”
“Maeve was so kind. I’ve no doubt there would’ve been a queue of willing animals,” Tauren huffs out.
I take his hand, hope fluttering in my chest. “Can you use your magic to change her back?”
His jaw clenches. “I can revert a soul back to its true form, but this is not my usual form of magic. I’ve not practised this since my school years.”
“I can do it,” Claren says. “I’ve done nothing but practise for the last decade. All the classes you enrolled me in made sure of that.” He smirks at Tauren, who averts his gaze guiltily. “Now watch and learn, brother.”
I step back from the grave, clutching Tauren’s arm as Claren steps forward. The owl ruffles its feathers, like it’s preparing itself.
“Please work,” I whisper into Tauren’s sleeve. My mind whirs with rapid thoughts. The more I think about it, the more I remember. The woods. Maeve’s first drawing. Even on my first night at the castle,shewas there, swooping above the balcony.
Claren mutters something under his breath, concentration pulling at his features, until he tenses, letting out a ragged breath.
My heart sinks. The owl is still just an owl.
I bury my face in Tauren’s sleeve, holding back tears. But then I hear a noise like a burst of stardust.
Tauren’s arms tense, and a choking gasp rocks through him. “Maeve?” he blurts.
I look up. A beautiful woman sits on the headstone, her features a perfect blend of the two demons beside me and the half-demon girl hugging her tightly.
She tilts her head, her two black bull horns sitting on top of a waterfall of blonde curls. “You were right.” She glances at Tauren before her gaze lands on me. A kind smile lights up herface, and I know right away we’re going to be tighter than sisters. “I do love her.”
43
TAUREN
One month later…
“Stop fidgeting with those cuffs or you’ll ruin the fabric. My poor creation will be in pieces if your bride doesn’t arrive soon.” Girabalt swats at my hands. I’m dressed in a regal wedding suit, a burgundy overcoat and breeches set with gold embroidery, which Girabalt sees no issue with reminding me how much time he spent tailoring this past week.
“For the price I paid, it better not,” I tease back.
My best man laughs, returning to the side of my wedding arch. It was Dahlia’s idea to renew our vows. She suggested it while I carried her up to bed after one of our many, many dungeon visits.
Of course I immediately agreed by claiming her against the wall, as if I could give any other response. But now I'm here, waiting under a flower-covered wedding arch… I’m not sure if I should feel excited or terrified.
“I think you will like the dress she picked,” Girabalt murmurs behind me. “It is very… her.”
Terrified, it is.
I face my guests, my hands clasped tightly in front of me as the violins begin to play. My castle grounds have once again been decorated with thousands of blooming dahlias – in reds, pinks, purples, any colour that I know will make her smile.
But it’s not just my wife who’s smiling when she steps out from behind the brambles. I can barely contain my grin, because I’m about to be re-married to the most beautiful woman in the entire fucking realm.
Most of her hair is swept up into a bun, while two wispy waves brush her perfect breasts. A strapless, low-cut bodice flows into a tight skirt that flares subtly around her knees. A long slit teases her mid-thigh, driving me more and more insane with every step she takes towards me.
Me.Her husband.
And that ismyfuckingwife.
She’s passed to me by Amaryllis while Tamryn, dressed in a green bridesmaid dress, fans out Dahlia’s skirt before taking her place beside the arch.
There was a commotion, apparently, when Dahlia was supposed to choose her bridesmaid. Maeve suggested she should just have all her eleven sisters and Tamryn follow her down the aisle. But when her sisters arrived for the wedding, they of course couldn’t settle on who would get to hold Dahlia’s skirt. After hours of bickering, they decided amongst themselves that the fairest option would be to have Tamryn hold her skirt while the rest of them would get to sit in the front row on Dahlia’s side of the ceremony seating.
