Page 172 of Shadowborne: Reckoning

EPILOGUE – Part 2

Days Later

SOUNDTRACK: Forever by ILLENIUM, Tom Grennan, and Alna.

~ DONAVYN ~

I stood in my apartment, jaw aching because my teeth were clenched so tightly. “We didn’t have to be apart for the entire night,” I grumbled, staring into the mirror and cursing because I looked ridiculous. The queen’s modiste had tailored me a nobleman’s suit for the occasion, but I’d never had to tie one of the ornate cravats—only those for my military uniform. Now the blasted thing kept tangling in my fingers and—

“I really thought you were above nerves,” Ronen said with a teasing smile as he came to stand in front of me and started tugging at the stupid tie.

I let him take it, but kept my eyes up. “I am. I’m twitchy because these fucking trousers ride up my ass.”

Ronen snorted and nodded knowingly, but moments later he had the cravat tied, then stepped back. “I thought every nobleman was given lessons in this shit.”

“I wasn’t born noble,” I said gruffly, turning to look for the over-tight jacket that wouldn’t allow enough movement if I had to fight. But apparently no one considered combat when designing wedding suits.

I winced as I slid my arms into the sleeves, then shrugged it up over my shoulders where it limited my movement by almost half.

Ronen sighed and came to stand behind me, brushing the shoulders off and pulling the high collar of the shirt out of the jacket collar.

“I know it’s really a little late for this, but I’m going to have to ask you to be patient with the squad,” he said quietly.

I frowned, tugging at the cuffs under the jacket sleeves. “Why is that?” My head immediately filled with possible explanations—the few wild dragons who’d remained and were slowly assimilating with the herd. The sudden influx of new prospects—including a handful of females which the queen made very clear we weren’t to turn away—because everyone had heard the rumors about the changes in the Palace after the queen’s official coronation as true Ruler.

“Because she’s their sister and they’re still feeling… protective.”

I huffed and looked at him in the mirror’s surface, catching his eyes over my shoulder. “Just her squad brothers?” I asked, trying not to smile too much.

“I am… not overly concerned,” Ronen said tightly.

With a grin, I turned to face him and clamped a hand to his shoulder. “I am grateful and touched that you all watch for her as you do—I’ll rely on that when the time comes that I can’t be near. But one thing is certain, Ronen.” I leaned into his ear and whispered. “If you, or any of those other dirty little pricks so much as look at her sideways in this dress today, I will personally remove your testicles.”

Then I clapped him on the arm and yanked at my jacket one more time. “Let’s go get married!”

~ BREN ~

It was strange to be in the queen’s rooms without rushing. I’d only ever been attended here when we were frantically training for the mission. But Diaan had insisted that on this day, of all days, she would host my preparation. I still wasn’t sure whether to be glad for it.

“There you are, now keep your eyes closed until the maids bring the mirror,” Diaan said, her tone strangely pleasant. I did as she said and kept my eyes closed. She’d made me do so since the maids brought in the dress she’d prepared.

I knew I shouldn’t have indulged her, but she was queen. And if Fyrehold had taught me anything, it was that I enjoyed the pretty clothes a great deal more than I would have expected.

Of course, I’d never be able to throw a decent kick in skirts. But I was willing to bet we could leave the fighting to the guards, or the Furyknights today.

I wanted to look pretty when I said vows to Donavyn. And I was still giddy that he’d been the one to insist that we move ahead—quickly—with the nuptials. We were already bonded, and I knew this wouldn’t change anything about that. But it felt… special.

I swallowed hard and kept my eyes screwed tightly shut until the sound of something heavy sliding across the floor stopped.

“Open your eyes,” Diaan said quietly.

I did. And my mouth dropped open.

The maids had started with my hair, sweeping the top half into a complicated twist, then pulling down sweet tendrils around my face that dusted my collarbones, while the back tumbled down in waves and curls against my bare back.

Bare, because Donavyn had insisted she could design the dress only if it didn’t have those blasted tiny buttons. I’d almost spluttered when he said that to the queen’s face. But she’d smiled. And made me promise to let the modistes create the perfect dress.

I thought I didn’t care, but I’d grown nervous on my way to the Palace last night—we spent the night apart, because the queen insisted it was a worthwhile tradition, and would make it far less likely for my squad brothers to pull a prank that might ruin the occasion.