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She grinned at him. “There are no rules. Not for us, at any rate. And be glad of that—at least if it’s just the two of us, nobody will be chanting.”
Cedric blinked. “Chanting.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, her mouth tilting into a feline grin. “Traditionally, there’d be all sorts of people lined up around us, standing vigil. Witnesses, you know. They’d say their prayers in the Old Language and chant us right through the whole bonding. That’s how your grandparents did it, as I understand.”
“Stars above, woman, you must realize that’s just about the last thing I want to hear right now.”
“How lucky you are that we live in such flexible times, eh?” Elyria dragged her finger across the muscled planes of Cedric’s chest as she passed him, crossing the tent to grab the silver tray from the table next to the tub. She set the tray down on top of the makeshift bed, then sat, sparing a moment to admire the braided length of rope—dark red silk shot through with metallic threads that glimmered faintly in the lantern light. Dawn caught in a web of shadow.
“What’re those for?” Cedric asked, taking a seat on the bed next to her.
“Remember what I told you before? About how there’s an order to things?”
He nodded slowly and lifted one hand to the bondmark over his collarbone. “A ceremony and vows and . . .” His gaze went to the knife on the tray, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Blood. But I thought we had to—”
“One step at a time,” she said soothingly. Then, across the bond, because she wasn’t sure she could handle hearing his answer aloud if he had changed his mind, she asked, “You still want this?”
“More than anything,” he replied, his gold-ringed gaze locked on hers.
Elyria released a breath, then reached for the silver blade. “This first cut is like . . . slotting a key into a lock. We don’t need much. Just enough for our magic to meet.”
“Like in the Sanctum?”
“Like in the Sanctum.” The memory of the power that had spread through Elyria when they’d merged magic before the third trial speared through her mind. The bond between them hummed, alight with anticipation. She sliced cleanly into her left palm without flinching, then held the blade out to Cedric. He mirrored her without comment, the only sign of discomfort in the way his throat bobbed.
“Take my hand,” she instructed, picking up the cord and looping one end of it around her wrist. Heat and cold surged the instant their palms pressed together, their blood mingling. She gasped as she looked down, saw the way her shadows had spread under her skin, darkening her veins. Cedric’s were the exact opposite—illuminated with a golden glow, streaks of sunlight running up his arms.
The jolt of power that ran through Elyria made her gasp.
Cedric’s breath stuttered. “Elle—”
“Still with me,” she assured him, her pulse racing. “This is just the door unlocking. Nothing is sealed yet.”
Even as she said it though, winding the rest of the cord around their interlaced hands, something settled in her chest. That overwhelming sense of rightness, of home, grew with every thudding beat of her heart.
She looped the other end around Cedric’s wrist with shaking fingers, then lifted her chin to look at him. “We speak our vows next, and we have to say them aloud.”
He tore his gaze from their bound hands, his brow furrowed. “What am I supposed to say?”
“Anything you want. It’s a signal of our understanding of what this means, of why we want it. And it doesn’t have to be elaborate, unless you want it to be. It just needs to be true.”
His expression softened. “Ladies first?”
She exhaled on a laugh, then sobered. “Of course.” Drawing in a slow breath, she attempted to steady the rapid beat of her heart, to calm herself against the flood of emotions already threatening to break her down. She could do this. She could say this.
He deserved to hear it.
“I bind myself with you, to you, Cedric Thorne. I choose you,” Elyria said quietly. “Not because of fate or prophecy and what we were destined to become. I choose you because you are mine to choose. Before you, without you, I was drowning. You brought me back to life, and were I faced with eons in this world alone or a single day together, I would choose you every time.”
The cord began to glow.
Cedric’s chest rose and fell sharply. “I bind myself to you, Elyria Lightbreaker,” he said, voice steady, unwavering. “You already know that, for me, there was never a choice to be made. I wish to be with you always, and not because of your power or your beauty, though those things are both so infinitely vast, it bewilders the mind to even attempt comprehending them. I simply want you. You, who are fierce and kind and terrifying in equal measure. Loving you is as easy and natural as breathing. It is like coming home. Never have I felt more at peace than when we are together. How could I not want that for eternity?”
Elyria didn’t realize she was crying until Cedric brushed a tear from her cheek with his free hand. “Repeat after me now,” she whispered, her voice close to breaking.
He nodded, his own eyes lined with silver.
“In darkness and in daylight, in peace and in ruin. What you carry, I carry. What you become, we become.”
