“So let it be spoken, so let it be done.” Joy beamed from her. A rush of color highlighted the curve of her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled.
“So mote it be,” he rumbled, sealing his half of the oath with his magic.
“So mote it be,” she said with a squeeze of his hands. Then stretched up for the sweetest, most profound kiss that ever existed.
The world exploded with light and song. Not just the melodic ringing of the wind chimes, but birdsong and the joyous roars and howls of every beast, every creature, every subject of the Thirteenth Realm. The mystical energy of the joining of their souls rippled across the land in a mighty symphony of delight.
Talon threw back his head and roared.
Lyla jumped into Magnus’s embrace, yipping like a frightened pup.
The dragon chuckled, then sheepishly bowed his head. “Forgive me, Divine One. My joy for my brother could not be contained.”
Smiling, she waved away his apology. “No worries. You just startled me.” Then her smile melted, and her brows drew together in a worried scowl. She pointed past him. “Look at the wall. It’s darker. Angrier.”
An ominous foreboding settled across Magnus as he stepped in front of her, instinctively placing himself between her and Kcirred's vile wasteland. “He is certain to react. We must be alert.”
“How do you fight someone like that?” Lyla hugged herself tighter against him. “None of the dragons side with him, do they?”
“Only those whose minds he’s crazed to the point of them forgetting who they truly are.” Age-old hatred and disgust burned deep and hot. “He also counts thenuckelavee, thebean nighe, thesluagh na marbh, and thebaobhan sithamong his warriors, all evil entities who strike the worst sort of terror into those they prey upon.” He tore his gaze from the boiling blackwall of poison and focused on his beloved mate. “Ye must not under any circumstances leave the safety of the fortress, ye ken? Never. Here, ye are safe”—he snorted—“at least safer than ye were, now that Hellys ousted the traitor. Dinna go outside the walls for any reason.” He slid a bent finger under her chin and gently tipped her face up to his. “Now that I finally have ye as my own, I canna bear the thought of losing ye.”
She stared up at him, searching his face and seeming unsatisfied with what she found. “I don’t want you out there either. I can’t live here—live anywhere—without you. Not now that I’ve finally found the courage to admit how much I need you.”
Not wishing to engage in a battle of wills before they’d even fully bound themselves to one another by consummating their union, Magnus silenced her with a kiss. He poured every yearning, every hope, and every dream into the connection, entwining his half of their united soul more solidly with hers. Grudgingly, he ended the kiss and barely lifted his mouth from hers. “We are one, my love. Nothing shall ever part us.” It wasn’t a lie…exactly. She would learn soon enough that as chief, he was expected to lead the charge for the protection of his people. “Come. Let us return to our rooms. Yer full strength has yet to return to ye, and I dinna wish ye to fall ill once again.”
She teased him with a shy smile. “I might need a little nap before our wedding night.”
He almost groaned. He’d already decided he’d not touch her until she was completely recovered. It wouldn’t be right to do so in her weakened state. “Ourwedding nightwill not be until ye are strong again.” Adopting a sternness he didn’t feel, he shook his head. “No honorable man would insult his lady love by taking advantage.”
She eyed him with an expression that made him brace himself. “Oh, really?”
“Aye.”
“And I don’t get a vote in this?”
“A vote?”
“An opinion on whether or not I’m ready to make love with my husband?” She made a face. “This was awedding,and we’re married now—right? Or do you not believe in that stuff here? I’ve only ever heard themateterminology. Not husband and wife.” She glanced back at Talon, whom Magnus noticed was watching them with no small amount of amusement. “Only Talon witnessed our speaking of the vows. Well…him and the Scale of Rurik. Does that count?”
“Talon, the Scale, the Highland Veil, and the universe witnessed our vows. Ye saw the Realm’s reaction when we uttered the final words of the oath, aye? And we are husband and wife, chief and lady, fated mates, soulmates, or whatever else ye wish to call us—and we’ll not be enjoying each other until ye’re stronger.” By the mighty Draig, not even bound a full hour yet, and already butting heads like a pair of strong-willed Highland rams.
Merriweather and Percival burst into the tower, hugging Lyla’s musical makers and shouting over each other in such high-pitched panic they were impossible to understand.
“Halt!” Magnus roared. “What the devil are the two of ye doing up here? This place is sacred, and ye know never to come here unless invited by Lord Darkmist or myself”—he paused and nodded at Lyla—“and the divine one, my wife, my mate, of course.”
“Her music makers!” Merriweather gasped for breath, wrestling the guitar case that was nearly as large as himself, patting his hands along it and dancing about as if it were hot to the touch. “They are about to burn, mighty chief. Smoke rises from them.”
“Aye!” Percival carried the two smaller cases wrapped in a plaid. Smoke rose from the folds of the woolly blanket.
“Give them to me.” Lyla stepped forward, unafraid. As the Twanes placed the smoldering cases down on the floor, she knelt among them, waving away the smoke. “They can’t burn. I can’t be without them. What would do this?” She opened the lids and drew them out, struggling to clutch all three of them in her arms.
“Rurik’s scale,” Talon said, “look at it.”
Strange characters shaped like dots with sticks that ran up and down bars of five lines evenly spaced. The unfamiliar symbols filled sheet after sheet of parchment. The scrying Scale of Rurik revealed more and more pages, unrolling scrolls, focusing on them for a brief moment, then moving on to show more sheets of the strange writings.
“It’s music.” Lyla stared up at it, her lips barely moving as she scanned what it displayed. She placed the violin to her shoulder and began to play, all while focusing on the pages spread across the large dragon scale upon the pedestal.
Merriweather wrapped the guitar in the blanket and tamped out any signs of flames among the open cases. Percival wrapped the flute in his tunic, cringing as the silver instrument smoldered against him.
