Page 143

The door opens, and Sterling strolls in, his formal attire doing nothing to hide the tension in his shoulders. His silvery wings are folded tightly against his back, but I can see the tension there, too, and the readiness for flight or fight. His gold-flecked brown eyes meet mine, and for a moment, we’re back in each other’s arms, dancing beneath a shower of water droplets, pretending the world might not end.

“The Aclarian delegation arrived an hour ago.” Sterling points out the window to where they stand. “Fifty strong, including their new regent.”

I nod, cataloguing this information with the rest.

We stand in silence, shoulders not quite touching, watching as more visitors stream through the gates. Representatives from every kingdom, drawn by curiosity, politics, and the invitation to witness the Champions Match. Every additional person is another soul to save, another witness to our rebellion against the gods. Another potential casualty.

Once again, the door opens. This time, Agnar enters.

I’m struck immediately by his uncharacteristic solemnity. His usual cheerful irreverence is absent, replaced by something grimmer and more focused. His coppery hair is tied back neatly, his ceremonial armor polished to a high shine. His piercing blue eyes hold none of their usual mischief.

“Against all odds, the Kamorian delegation has just arrived.” He closes the door carefully behind him. “And the Devoted are gathering in the squares across the city.”

The presence of the cultists, though no surprise, complicates matters. They’ll be watching us, reporting every action back to their divine master.

Out of instinct, I square my shoulders, and my wings respond to my tension by shifting against my clothing. While I can keep my face from displaying emotions, my wings are harder to tame. “We’ll give them a show worth remembering.”

The servants withdraw, leaving us alone. Agnar turns his back toward us and waits by the door. In this moment of privacy, Sterling’s composure slips just a fraction.

He presses his forehead against mine, and our breath mingles in the space between us. “Are you ready, love?”

Am I ready to greet nobles who distrust us, to smile at visitors who’ve come to gawk, and to dance at a masquerade while plotting treason against the deities who could level our kingdom—our world—in a heartbeat? Am I ready to stand against the gods themselves, to risk everything and everyone I love on a desperate gamble?

Absolutely fucking not. But I will be. “To marry you, yes. Everything else, not in the slightest. But I’m doing it anyway.”

“Same.” Sterling’s lips curve in the softest of smiles before he covers my mouth with his.

Desire coils low in my belly, and for a few seconds, I lose myself in him completely. The way his tongue sweeps in my mouth, teeth grazing my lower lip. The way one hand cradles the nape of my neck, the other tracing leisurely, sensual circles on my lower back. The way his eyes slide shut as he moans and deepens the kiss.

Way too soon, Sterling pulls back a few inches, dragging a breath through clenched teeth. “If we weren’t obligated to greet our visitors, there is nothing, and I mean nothing, that would stop me from ripping that dress off of your exquisite body, laying you out on the nearest flat surface, and worshipping every inch of you. I’d start by sliding my tongue⁠—”

By the door, Agnar clears his throat less than discreetly. “Hot as it is to listen to you two get down and dirty, Rhiann says it’s time to go.”

Sterling’s responding growl earns him a laugh from Agnar.

“Okay, then.” I head for the door, leaving Sterling to adjust the bulge in his pants. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

The world might be ending, yet no one told the royal seamstress.

My gorgeous wedding gown is a miracle of engineering with layers and layers of diaphanous silk dyed in gradients. Pure white at the shoulders and sleeves flows into gold, orange, and then red at the hem, as if a bonfire rose from my ankles and set my bones ablaze. The cut is far more daring than I’d have tried in the past, but if the last year taught me anything, it’s that fear is a wasted emotion unless you’re running from actual monsters.

I spin in this small salon on the first floor of the palace, and the skirt sighs in a splash of shifting color. After we spent the better part of the morning welcoming our guests, I left my crown in my room. The wedding ceremony isn’t about being a queen, only a woman in love.

Rhiann stands behind me, her professional expression forgotten. Today she’s helping me not as Lady of the Bedchamber, but as Sterling’s only living female family member. According to Tirene custom, the bride gets ready with the female members of both families. Between Sterling and me, we only have Rhiann and Leesa left.

The door creaks.

“Still alive in there?” Leesa pushes inside with a clatter of heels.

The sight of my sister almost undoes me. She’s glowing. Radiant. Her olive skin and dark golden blond hair are somehow more luminous than usual, and she’s holding—oh gods, please no—a bouquet that could double as a siege weapon. It takes both her arms to hold it up.

At the center, a Fusion Root Vine blooms, while the rest of the arrangement is a riot of blue and violet and those angry yellow bells that the gardener claims are native to our kingdom and nowhere else.

I stare in horror. “Is that just for me?”

“It was so worth it to carry all of these in together. Just to see you freak out like that.” Leesa grins before dividing the bouquet into three sections, passing one to Rhiann before handing the largest bundle to me. “They’re ready for us if you are.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and thank my good fortune—because thanking the gods is at the bottom of my list these days—that I don’t have to carry the entirety of the palace gardens in my bouquet.