Page 142 of The Edge of Darkness

She was mine.

And now it was time to let the rest of the world know.

Remic and I materialized in The Elderwood, just beyond the path to the temple, and I took a moment to just breathe.

Dusk had descended upon the mountain forest, bathing everything in an enchanting, purple hue. The land was calm and quiet, as if the forest was content with my presence. The peaks towered above like quiet looming giants.

I’d never felt more at home.

Crisp notes of pine drifted in the air, and the golden glow of candles stretched its way out of the dark temple, flooding the steps up to the colonnade.

Beyond the arched entry, a whole host of Calledan’s residents stood waiting, though they didn’t know what they were waiting for. Niall hadn’t told them exactly what this ceremony was for, which meant that the moment I removed my hood, there would be certain shock from the majority of them.

Niall and I had rehearsed our plan. He’d told me what to expect, and what to do when the time came. Mating ceremonies were far different from human marriages—from the sound of it. But the sentiment was the same. The one thing that we couldn’t plan for was the crowd’s reaction to me being human. Blood of the gods or not, a human had never ascended the throne in any fae court.

We hoped for the best, planned for the worst, and knew that regardless of the court’s reaction, I was being crowned today as Niall’s mate. Calledan would see a Lady beside their High Lord by nightfall.

Remic adjusted his wings.

I peered up at him from underneath the heavy hood, noting the hilt of his silver sword pommel. He’d polished it to a shine, just as he’d done to his boots.

“You know, I kind of like this look on you. So sleek and stylish,” I said.

He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “The vest and pants are a bit . . . constricting.”

I grinned. “Well, the vest may not be a tactical choice, but it looks nice. The pants . . . I don’t see how those are any more constricting than the fighting leathers you wear on a daily basis.”

He huffed a laugh. “Those leathers are crafted from Dreki hides—the most supple material out there. Helps with the range of motion.” He adjusted his shoulder blade, lifting his right wing as if the fine fabric around its base was threatening to cut off circulation to the appendage.

“Well I appreciate you looking like a prince just for me.” I tossed him a wink, and he gave me an incredulous look in return, ready to contest my claim. “Shall we?” I asked, not giving him the time to sneak in a rebuttal.

With another light laugh, he nodded.

As we approached the archway, he tightened his elbow, pulling me closer and leaning in to say, “Your father would be proud of you.”

I blinked, taking in his words.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“Thank you,” I whispered, biting back tears.

The candlelight grew brighter as we crested the top of the steps and crossed the colonnade to the main entry. My heart skipped a beat the moment we stepped inside. The circular temple was much larger than it appeared on the outside—having been partially shrouded by the thick forest. Above, the ceiling curved into a dome of glittering mountain stone. Down below, at the base of the stairway that cut through the throng of spectators, there was a platform at the center of the room.

And there stood Niall, with that devastating smile.

The thrumming in my chest flared, and I sucked in a breath. He looked like a lord of darkness standing by the altar, illuminated by the basins of fire that bracketed the bottom of the stairs. His black cloak accentuated his broad shoulders, flooding the ground behind him like a pool of shadows. He was ever the High Lord of the Mountain Court. And I had never been more ready to recite my vows to make him mine.

Gasps swirled around the chamber as Remic and I hovered at the top of the stairs. No one could see my face, but my figure was clearly that of a female, and from the way the guests were frantically glancing between their High Lord and me, I was certain they’d put two and two together . . .

This was a mating ceremony.

The look in Niall’s eyes beckoned, and I stepped carefully, relying on Remic’s arm to keep me steady. The air kissed my bare knees as the slit in my gown shifted with each step.

“Who is she?” I heard someone whisper as I passed.

“Her gown . . . it’s black,” someone else murmured.

Damn right it was.