Page 144 of The Edge of Darkness

The mood of the room shifted as others began openly voicing their concerns. I picked up on certain words as unease spread. Human . . . Veil . . . prophecy . . . powerless . . . unworthy . . .

Suddenly, a pulse of power rocked the temple, and everyone fell silent.

Niall’s voice was lethally calm, as he said, “Before any of you draw another incorrect conclusion, I suggest you allow her to demonstrate.” His arm swept out before me, offering me the “stage.”

We’d suspected this exact outcome and had prepared for it. The fae were kind and open-minded, but for a stranger—a human—to waltz into their temple claiming to be the chosen one . . . They would need some convincing. Niall had opted not to have my formal announcement and induction ceremony with the council before this, stating it would be much easier to just kill two birds with one stone and tackle both at the same time. So, as untraditional as this was, it was necessary.

I laced my fingers together in front of me, pushing my shoulders back, and daring to look every fae in the eye as I turned in a circle and spoke. “I do not expect you to be without your doubts. But what Niall says is true. I am the first human to cross The Veil in over thirteen hundred years. And I carry the blood of the gods in my veins.”

My light pressed against my skin, and I called it forward, allowing my entire body to ignite with a brilliant white glow.

Calm and collected, I told my power.

The fae watched in astonishment, some brimming with shock, others staring with a flicker of hope behind their eyes. Their expressions spoke a thousand words.

I raised my voice ever so slightly. “My name is Auren, and my gift is the power of light. And when the fallen god returns, I will be the one to stop him.”

I continued to turn in place, until I spotted Killian and Ramil amongst the sea of faces. They both appeared to be piecing things together, trying to figure out what was going to happen next. I lifted my chin, enduring their scorn for another long moment before focusing on the room at large once again and letting my glow fade out.

“Your Elder has confirmed my bloodline and my mating bond. And I have made the climb to The Keep. Eathril has deemed me worthy of a place on your council and at your High Lord’s side.” I locked eyes with several of the males that had protested—members of Niall’s council, no doubt. Upon hearing the declaration, their jaw muscles seemed to relax, their shoulders settling as they shifted from defiant opposition to reluctant acceptance.

“But it is much more than that,” I continued. “Your High Lord is my mate. I felt it the moment I first saw him. I denied it at first. I didn’t know what any of this entailed, or what my power was capable of. But I know now.” This time I spoke directly to Niall. “More than anything, I know that I love you.”

The tension in the room softened. Everyone watched as Niall came and took my face in his hands. His shadows swirled around my feet as if they were just as eager to get me in their grasp.

He lowered his forehead to mine. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Until the end of time.”

I soaked in his words, fighting the burning sensation that was building behind my eyes.

Don’t cry.

Syros’s pleasant voice broke the silence. “I have given my blessing for this mating ceremony, and I stand by my word. Anyone willing to contest it will find themselves ill at odds.”

A veiled threat if I’d ever heard one.

I grinned, swallowing the emotional lump in my throat as Niall and I turned back toward the altar together.

With no further objections, Syros reached into his magical pocket of space, retrieving three objects and placing them atop the altar in a neat row; a stone, a rope, and a small dagger no bigger than my hand from hilt to tip.

“Are each of you entering into this ceremony on your own accord?” he asked.

“Yes,” Niall and I answered in unison.

“And are each of you aware that the mating ceremony consists of sacred vows that are not to be taken lightly?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. We shall proceed.” He lifted the centermost object first—the rope. “Your hands, please.”

Niall offered his left hand, and I my right, gently placing it atop his.

Syros took the rope and laid it upon our wrists, crossing both ends underneath and wrapping them over our wrists again. “You’ve come here today, to join your lives together as one. To bind yourselves to one another in love. The bond you share at your core, gifted by the gods and the fates, is a gift that is to be cherished above all things. For there is nothing stronger than love.”

He secured the rope with a loose knot, then moved to the next item on the altar—the oathing stone. He plucked the smooth black stone from the altar and placed it in Niall’s free hand. “Niall, High Lord of Calledan, son of Calder, son of Arrien, son of Rickon, son of Evander, do you formally recognize your mating bond, therefore confessing your love before the gods and the fates, and vowing to uphold the duty and honor that comes with this bond?”

“I do,” Niall answered.

The rope that bound our wrists flared with light, and a mark suddenly etched its way across the left side of the stone Niall held. The mark of his vow.