Page 64 of Mating Her Dragon

"This is delightful," Kara said, entirely too entertained.

Sydney stared at the new, blank page a long moment before she finally understood the problem. She kept writing about why they'd been destined to be together– the prophecy, the Mating Bond, the thousands of years of Fate quietly arranging things behind the scenes. Most importantly, the whole ‘made by the Universe for one another’ thing.

That wasn't what she wanted to promise him.

Her vow wasn't about why the Universe had made them for one another. It was about what she chose, herself, after the Universe finished talking and left the room.

She picked the pen back up.

The Universe made you for me. I choose you for myself.

Sydney looked at that single sentence for a long time, feeling it settle into exactly the right shape. She didn't write anything else down where anyone else could see it.

Ginnie found her a little while later, and the two of them ran one final check on the consent architecture together. Nothing dramatic, just careful, methodical work. Sydney traced the structure she'd built into the Living Threshold's blueprint while Ginnie verified it against whatever Necromancy could offer on the subject of souls and boundaries.

"If it starts to fail tomorrow," Ginnie asked, "can you stop?"

"Yes."

"Will you?"

Sydney considered that honestly, because it deserved an honest answer. "If it threatens Garrett or lets Leviathan cross without permission… yes."

No prophecy was going to force her forward regardless. No Mating Ceremony had to happen at all costs, no matter what. Even tomorrow, all the way up to the last possible second, the choice stayed hers.

Garrett found her notebook that evening, tucked half under a folded blanket where she'd absolutely not hidden it well enough.

"Is that…?"

"No."

"You accused me of hiding mine."

"And I've grown as a person."

"In twenty-four hours?"

"Remarkable, isn't it?"

He let it go, laughing despite himself. Sydney noticed, watching him settle beside her, something she hadn't seen on him before.

He wasn’t being Threat Processing Garrett, or tactical Garrett, running numbers on Council containment or perimeter distances.

This was Nervous Garrett.

She realized, with a small ache of tenderness, that she'd never once seen him nervous about something he actually, desperately wanted. It was, in its own strange way, one of the sweetest things she'd ever watched happen to him.

They slipped away together at sunset, leaving Bonnie and Maggie and Carrick and Ginnie behind them, noisy and warm around the fire, and walked out to the bluff alone.

Tomorrow there would be people there. Carrick's voice would be raised in an ancient rite. Blessings, spoken by Commanders Sydney barely knew. Blood. Vows. Magic, old and new, woven together for the first time in thousands of years. Possibly, somewhere underneath all of it, Hell itself, knocking and waiting patiently at a door only she could see.

Tonight, it was just the two of them.

"Still yes?" Garrett asked, quiet, watching the light fall gold and orange across the water.

"Still yes."

She turned the question back on him. "Still yes?"