Page 148 of Season Warriors & Wolves

My friend smiled at him and then at me. “He always says the right thing, doesn’t he?”

“Terribly annoying.”

He extended a hand for me to take and left a kiss on my knuckles. “It charmed you, didn’t it?”

I rolled my eyes. “Just barely.”

Everyone sat silently in their chairs lining an aisle that led to the ancient cherry blossom with delicate rosy flowers that swayed softly at the lull of sunset autumn air. A soft bell chimed in the distance, and we all spun in our seats to see the most radiant woman I knew walking down the carpet of pink petals with Alaric and Cai on each of her arms.

The strings of a violin slowly gave the air a melody too, the notes curled around and accompanied my friend’s steps toward the one she loved. Moriko’s chest rose rapidly, and her cold face was betrayed by the silver rimming her eyes. The old queen bowed her head at Alaric and Cai and extended a hand to Nia, pulling her closer. Too close because the stern Hanaian priest cleared his throat.

The two kneeled before one another, still holding onto each other as the priest lowered a metallic basin filled with water between them. When their eyes met across the small distance, something changed in the wind. It was then I saw all doubt and worry entirely melt off my friend’s face.

Kilian squeezed my hand when they began reciting vows to one another. The lines made of promises repeated by both and celebrated by the whole crowd.

No one breathed, waiting for the last call of the priest made to seek gods’ blessing. There had been only one other marriage of two Aura that had been accepted by them and blessed—ours. And I still had faint doubts that it had been because of my threats. Faint doubts that abated when the smoke of the garni the priest held began curling in the air, wrapping around my friend and her wife, before breaking apart in the wind and disappearing.

A stuttering breath and laugh left me at once when clapping thundered around us and Moriko leaned in to kiss Nia, their hand and finger now bearing a vine tattoo, the mark of their blessed union.

“Were you making threats in your head?” Cai asked quietly. “You had a stank face just a second ago.”

“No.”

“She was,” Kilian said, still clapping and looking ahead with a small smile playing on his lips.

“Mhm,” Mal agreed, nodding.

I don’t do threats. I would have simply burnt them all.

“There,” Cai murmured.

Kilian nodded in agreement. “Just did it again.”

“Yeah,” Mal echoed.

Eren laughed and the three men spun to look at him like it was the first time he’d done so.

I sat at the head table alone, watching Nia being spun around by Mal and Cai in the middle of the ballroom, her laughter drawing the sound of music around us. Thora had her head resting on Alaric’s chest, her eyes closed as they swayed slowly to the music. Eren, Kilian and Mor were all standing, a drink in their hands, their manners serious and stony as they most probably strung along a conversation of the most boring kind only them three knew how to. Even Oryn was dancing—with a shy Macaria blinking down, refusing to look at him. Visha and her equally crimson headed protege had cornered Elias who laughed and made their frowns stoop lower and lower.

I enjoyed this. I enjoyed seeing the world move.

Though I craved vengeance like summer soil seeked rain, there was something else I desired more than to expand my collection of souls with their heads on pikes lining my castle walls like solstice decoration. I wanted to protect—I wanted to protect this more than I wanted retribution.

As I lifted the cup of water to my lips, I muttered a whisper so the gods would not miss it. Till my last breath.

“Who are you thinking of killing, kid?” Alaric asked, sighing as he stretched on the chair like his bones were one hundred years older than they had been before I’d gone to Isjord.

“Why are they creaking?”

“What is creaking?”

“Your skeleton, Alaric.”

He chuckled. “I’m old.”

I lowered my cup and sat up straight in my chair. He, too, noticed the change in me because all amusement flared from our air. More so when I said, “No.”

“I needn't your permission, hen.”