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Behind them, the last of the monstrous tree collapsed into ash.
Chapter 48
The Great Hall had not heard the echo of these many voices in months. It had been weeks since Blaidd had carried an unconscious Eira, bundled in Fae's cloak, back to the packland.
Torches burned brightly along the carved beams, their light reflecting off polished shields and antlers mounted high above. Long tables were laden with food—bread still warm from the ovens, roast meat, bowls of berries, and honey cakes. The air smelled of smoke, wine, and a mix of sorrow and relief.
Relief that it was finally over. No more shall die.
Sorrow for those who would not meet until they climbed to the Goddess's side in the Undercroft.
They celebrated the end of difficult days and honoured the dead.
Names were spoken aloud—Bowen, Lyda. Others they now knew were not just missing, but trapped in unending purgatory. Wine spilled from unsteady cups as they celebrated the spring equinox. Heads bowed out of respect for the dead and to welcome new life into the pack.
There was sorrow in the hall, but also laughter because the living remained.
At the centre of it all stood Blaidd and Fae.
Their second handfasting was nothing like the first.
The first had been hurried and felt more like funeral to Fae, who did not understand what she had done wrong to deserve a lifemate who couldn't look at her face.
This one was chosen.
***
One week ago, Blaidd had found her working on a wooden puzzle for Lisna's oldest. He was serious and thoughtful, always watching his younger siblings. He had hugged Fae tightly when she returned and whispered that he wanted cookies. As she blew the sawdust after sanding a corner, she noticed Blaidd leaning against the doorway, watching her work. The smile came readily now.
"How long have you been standing there?" she asked, not bothering to get up. There was an ease between them now, one she never expected to have. It was a gift from the Goddess.
She shamelessly admired his broad shoulders filling the frame, remembering how earlier in the day he had taken her to the meadow and blocked out the sun. She was too distracted to notice the parcel wrapped in fine linen held against his chest.
Surprise flickering across her face, followed by delight, because she knew this was yet another gift. "You have something for me?"
"Only if you promise to make veal stew for last meal. I have missed it," he murmured, stepping inside and offering the bundle to her with quiet care.
She took it slowly, work-worn fingers brushing the linen. It smelled faintly of lavender pressed between layers of cloth and him.
"What is this?" she asked, her eyes shining. She loved these surprises as much as he loved giving them.
"A gift. Open it." He seemed uncharacteristically nervous as he shifted from one foot to the other.
"If you don't like it, please pretend you do?" he whispered to her across their bond.
The cloth fell away in soft folds until the finest moss-green silk spilled into her hands like liquid forest. Firelight caught the fabric, and it shimmered, dark and rich, shifting with every breath she took. Tiny stitched birds lifted into flight along the hem, curling flowers blooming up the sleeves in delicate threads of gold and cream.
Fae's breath left her in a whisper. "Blaidd..."
"Aiko embroidered it," he rushed. "She insisted. She made a smaller one for herself from the same fabric."
As she lifted the dress, something lighter slid free and drifted like mist across her wrists. The finest veil of tulle unfolded—so sheer it was almost invisible, edged with the same tiny birds and blossoms, as though the forest itself had left a blessing behind.
Her fingers trembled against the gossamer softness. "It's beautiful," she whispered.
His gaze never left her face. "It is meant for our handfasting."
"We already had a handfasting eight years ago," she said as her eyes slid away in remembered pain. It was hard to forget that day—standing beneath the wishing tree while the pack gathered, orange blossoms woven into her hair, her handmade gold silk gown catching the late sun. Hard to forget how her brand-new lifemate had refused to meet her eyes. How he had stood apart from her, like she carried something contagious. How joy had curdled into humiliation in the pit of her stomach before the vows were even warm on their tongues.
