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Now I can’t imagine it with anyone else.

23

ADRIANA

My heart pounds in anticipation as I stride through the knee-high meadow, the starting point where brides-to-be enter the forest alone and come out bound to their suitors. If the seeds grow, then the wedding follows, and I know my mom herself chose the plot. As forest manager, she knows exactly where to plant them to ensure their strength and vitality.

Before the first light of dawn, the Aurelian princes escorted me home in breathtaking fashion, climbing down the trees like madmen, and they insisted on each giving me a tender kiss on the forehead while I held my nose.

I woke up groggy from the wine, my mom waking me with a steaming cup of clear root tea, which I gulped down before slipping back into an hour-long slumber, awaking refreshed and invigorated. To my surprise, when I blinked awake, my mom and June were waiting at the door. June was practically hopping with excitement, and she rushed to her room, returning with a jade gown adorned with intricate silver embroidery.

My jaw dropped.

“Looks like someday came today,” she grinned.

“You made this?”

“She worked day and night since we heard the news,” says my mom, smiling with pride at her daughters.

“Starting my fashion career dressing the Prime Minister of Pentaris isn’t too shabby, right? Told you I’d know when the time was right.”

It was all a blur, trying on the dress, my mom and sister helping me with my make-up and hair, and the walk to the meadow was like a dream, until I was standing there in front of the forest and everything felt so real.

Throngs of Virelians pack into the meadows, forming two lines that make a passageway towards the forest. Instead of hostility, the waiting faces are filled with curiosity and hope.

The news spread like wildfire last night, wardens, the rangers of our forests, returning to their families and spreading their endorsement of the triad. They won over the respect of the protectors of the forest last night, helped by my brother’s seal of approval, and by now, everyone knows this union is not coerced.

The Prime Minister part of my brain wants to fixate on how the news of how I could have backed out of the union means that the chance of nationalistic strikes has lowered, but that thought melts out of my brain as I walk towards the forest, my family flanking me.

Behind us, the massive warship of the Aurelians looms, no longer symbolizing invasion but protection.

The forest seems to open its arms to me as I enter it, and only my family continues with me, the rest of the Virelians awaiting my united return. Oakly strides ahead, his shoulders squared, still feeling like he needs to keep me safe as my big brother, something I know will never change.

The canopy of trees parts, revealing a meadow where the Aurelian princes await, the sun flowing through the trees and gleaming off their golden crowns. They are in their battle-robes,their muscular chests exposed, the blades at their belts. When their eyes lock onto me, the world narrows. They are every inch the conquerors, every inch the protectors, violent and untamed, living for me. I can see it in their eyes, in the way they stare, this pure awe, as if I am the only thing in the world that exists. And when I plant these seeds with them, they will own a piece of me, a piece that can only be given, not taken.

Calder Wynham is dwarfed by them, in a formal olive-green cloak, his pendant gleaming. He holds a crafted hardwood box.

He clears his throat. “I had thought this union would be one done in the shadows. Done quickly, so that the affront to our forest would be lessened. Done without your family. It…” He pauses, wiping a tear from his eyes before it can drip down to his salt-and-pepper beard. “Forgive a foolish old man. You go forward with the blessings of Virelia.”

I feel more like I’m floating than walking as I approach him and open the wooden box, my family forming a semi-circle behind me at the meadow edge. Lifting the lid, the four tiny seeds that will grow into thousand-foot-tall concord pines sit against the wood of the box, and I take them, carefully, reverentially. The three Aurelians extend their hands, and I place them one by one in their open palms.

The princes smile, a serene contrast to their warrior features, three men carved of marble, stone that will face the coming storm without flinching. Their strength exudes, the royalty in their blood, their power intoxicating.

My mom prepared the plot, marking four spots with pebbles. We kneel together, digging into the cool, forgiving soil with our bare hands. I cast one last glance over my shoulder, meeting the smiles of my family, then turn to look at the princes one by one, engraving their features into my mind.

In unison, we place the seeds into the ground, and the three of them cover my seed in soil, while one by one, I cover theirs.

We stand, and one by one, my family comes, starting with my dad, each of them sprinkling nutrient-rich soil on top of the plots as they give their blessings to the union. Then they retreat, along with Calder, who is trying to hide his wet eyes, and I take my place in front of the seeds, standing and facing my family.

Doman leans down, brushes my hair back, and kisses me, tender, gentle, with that edge of hunger that drives me wild. I’m breathless when we break off the kiss, and Titus kisses me next, his tongue swirling into my mouth, and I blush when my sister lets out a wolf-whistle of approval. Gallien is smiling, and his eyes close as he leans down, gently running his fingers over my cheek, and I can feel he’s getting dirt on me and I don’t care at all as I stand on my tippy-toes to kiss him, my heart pounding in joy.

I extend my hands, and Titus and Doman take them, Gallien striding forward, and my family leads the way out of the forest. As we stride out into the fields together, the Virelians let out cheers, and I can only laugh as the gathered rangers throw back their heads and howl, because now everyone in the village knows exactly who caused the cacophony last night. Flowers are thrown into the air as we walk towards their warship. I giggle as a particularly pretty one plasters itself onto Titus’ forehead, and he wipes it off with a rueful grin.

Doman squeezes my hand tight as we cross from verdant grass to the metal floor of his warship, and we turn together, my gaze lingering on the Virelians who came to witness the first stage of our union. My family is at the forefront, my mother and sister struggling to hold back tears. I embrace them one by one, saying my goodbyes and promising I’ll be back as soon as I can.

As the warship doors slowly close, a surge of anticipation courses through me. My world spins as Doman sweeps me up into his arms, the crowd erupting into cheers. Through the narrowing gap, I steal one last look at the endless forests and thepeople of my homeland, breathing in the last gust of the oxygen-rich air, that pure gift from the forest, but in it, there is a tinge of Doman and his triad, the heavy, masculine scent of the aliens tickling my nostrils.

Doman cradles me in his arms, and I wrap my hands around his thick neck, barely bouncing in his certain grip as he strides with me into his warship, one of his hands under the crook of my legs, the other supporting my back. My arm gently around his neck is a formality. The big brute would never drop me, even if I tried to wriggle free or escape.