Page 138 of The Edge of Darkness

“Sorry. It’s just . . .” I looked at her and Sorscha, standing in the place my mother should be. Pushing out a breath, I straightened my shoulders. “Thank you both for being here, and for everything you’ve done.”

Sorscha took my hand in hers. I could tell by the look in her eyes that there was so much she wanted to say, but couldn’t. So I nodded, smiling gently, and squeezing her hand in mine.

To fight back more tears, I quickly changed the subject. “What shoes did Gareth bring?”

Sorscha scurried to the edge of the bed and removed a pair of delicate, black heels.

I’d only worn proper heels a few times, and they were nothing as fancy as these. The only pair that I was familiar with had been my mother’s—from the day she married my father. I remembered putting them on, the leather straps frayed and limp from years sitting on the shelf in our small closet. I had worn them to my first solstice celebration in Galenagh when I turned sixteen. Then again at age twenty-four, when our harvest year was particularly plentiful, and the locals decided to celebrate by hosting a dance in a nearby village.

Mother always thought a pair of heeled shoes would help me secure a spot on some young man’s arm at one of those events. Little did she know, I hadn’t deigned to glance at any of the village’s men since that awful boy had broken my heart. I had been betrothed to my sword, to the oath I’d sworn to myself, not to let anyone get the best of me again.

Until Niall.

Niall would be the one to see me in shoes finer than I’d ever worn before. Every “first” I would ever have from now on would be with him.

I slid my feet into the heels, allowing Sorscha to cinch the straps and fasten the clasps just right.

A gentle knock sounded on the door—two distinct taps in quick succession. Remic’s signature knock. Amarna waved the door open, and the Dionach stood waiting with his hands clasped behind his back, wings tucked in tight. His long hair was as neat as it always was, but it shone extra bright today. He wore a different set of black leathers than the ones I usually saw him in. An intricately stitched black vest clung tightly to his torso, clasped with hidden fasteners over his abdomen, and his boots were shining. It was the fanciest I’d ever seen him.

He smiled with a gaze pinned on me that was almost too emotional for me to handle.

Whenever Remic smiled, the expression transformed him into a thing of myth. A being with beauty akin to that of the gods. It was so impactful in fact, that Sorscha blushed, and a high-pitched trill escaped her throat as she quickly ducked away into the bathing chamber.

Remic stepped into the room, hands still behind him. “Lady.” He bowed his head.

Already with the titles.

“You don’t have to call me that, you know. I’m still just ‘Auren.’” I gave him a grin as I walked over to him.

His smile remained. “Whatever the Lady prefers.”

I scoffed, throwing my arms around his waist and hugging him. He laughed gently, the sound smooth and crisp. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me in tight.

I breathed in his scent—mist and rain and the open sky.

“Thank you for doing this.” For taking the place of my father and brother at my side.

“Of course.” He squeezed me once more, then released me, pulling back to look me in the eye. “It is an honor.”

He was probably also secretly gloating that I’d asked him instead of Silas—my actual god-assigned Dionach.

Silas would have been a perfectly fine male to take the place of my father and brother, but he didn’t mean to me what Remic did. Not yet, at least.

Remic and I had formed our own bond. Something had snapped into place between us when we first met. Neither of us knew exactly what it was. But he was the only one fit for this. The only one who felt right to be at my side.

“Do me a favor, and don’t let me stumble in these heels, okay?” I clicked one of the shoes against the floor for emphasis.

He glanced down and frowned. “How are you even supposed to walk in those?”

“Carefully,” I said. “But once we get to the temple, you’re supposed to fly me down the stairs to Niall.”

His eyes shot back up to mine. “A-Are you sure⁠—”

“Relax.” I laughed. “I’m just joking.”

His wings rustled, and a shade of pink laced his cheeks. “Ah. Good one.”

“Scared to fly in front of Calledan’s court?”