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T eryn didn’t have the best memories of the Godskeep at Ridine Castle, but he was hoping to make new ones today. If anything could help him forget what had happened the last time he’d been here, when he’d been helpless as Morkai used his body to undermine King Dimetreus, it was his wedding.

If his bride ever showed up.

He wasn’t sure if she was late or if time had slowed to a crawl simply because he was the sole focus of every pair of eyes in the nave. The aging Godspriest stood behind the altar in white robes and seven beaded necklaces, each to represent a different deity, but being the groom, Teryn made for a far more interesting sight.

Most of those in attendance were strangers, esteemed nobles or representatives of Khero’s great houses, though there were a few familiar figures in the front row. Larylis sat beside Lex and Lily, a trio of comforting faces. Mareleau and Helena were absent, as they were now rumored to have departed early for the queen’s well-being. Thankfully, it seemed they’d fully managed to smother the rumor of Noah’s birth before it had spread beyond Mareleau’s bedchamber.

He flicked his gaze up to the rafters and found Berol’s telltale silhouette. He wasn’t sure how or when his peregrine falcon had snuck into the Godskeep, as she normally kept to the forest surrounding the castle, but it seemed she was determined to attend his wedding. He wondered how Valorre felt about being excluded.

As he lowered his eyes back to the audience, Larylis gave him a reassuring nod while Lex winked at him. It was enough to bolster his nerves, and he focused his attention at the end of the aisle. The closed door. Where soon his bride would enter and she’d fully be his—and he hers—at last.

He hadn’t expected to be this nervous. It took great control to resist the urge to fidget, to tug the smothering collar of his ceremonial coat, a burden of white-and-gold brocade with a ridiculously high-buttoned neck, affixed with a golden cape. It was almost identical to the raiment his brother had worn to the formal audience with Cora, and now it was Teryn’s turn to represent Vera’s sigil and colors. This entire ceremony was more for the benefit of the people than anything else, so Teryn’s attire was meant to demonstrate his side of the formal union between Vera and Khero.

The tune from the pipe organ shifted to a more distinct melody, one that had Teryn straightening. He knew what that meant.

It was time.

The doors at the end of the nave slowly opened. His breath caught as Cora filled his vision. She was dressed in an ivory gown with a square neckline, ruffled sleeves that opened at her elbows, and delicate lacework down the front of her skirt. The back trailed behind her with more lace, as did the violet cape that hung from her shoulders. Her neck was adorned with a gold necklace beset with amethyst stones, and her simple gold crown rested upon her head. Her dark tresses had been braided into a complex updo. She wore ivory lace gloves that ended at the wrist so as not to hide her tattooed forearms.

His grin was automatic, but as his eyes met hers, he couldn’t help the teasing tilt that angled one corner of his lips. Not when he could see just how uncomfortable she was. She’d already complained by letter about her ostentatious wedding gown, and she had to be wincing at all the attention she was now receiving. Teryn’s eyes weren’t the only ones on her. The audience had risen to their feet and watched as she made her slow procession down the aisle, trailed by her maids.

Teryn held her eyes with every step, and she did the same with his. The nearer she came, her expression grew more relaxed, her smile wider. As she approached the dais, his attention snagged on her waist. At first he hadn’t noticed the ivory silk belt she wore there, but now he did, for upon it hung the dagger he’d gifted her, half hidden in the folds of her skirt.

His heart tumbled and melted all at once, and his smile grew wider yet. “Perfect,” he whispered as she took her place beside him. She let out a shaky breath, giving him one more gorgeous smile before facing the altar.

Gods, she was beautiful, just like the blade he’d given her. He was honored she’d paired it with her gown. It suited her more than all the lace and silk and jewels. It suited them .

The Godspriest began his speech, which meant Teryn had to wrench his eyes away from his beloved. The inches of space between them were proper yet agonizing. He wanted to reach for her palm and pull her closer. Instead, he clasped his gloved hands at his waist and forced himself to focus on the Godspriest. The man’s words were drowned out by the racing of his heart, the anticipation rushing through his blood.

Finally, the Godspriest directed him and Cora to face each other. They did as told, and Teryn was rewarded with the sweetest, most timid smile he’d ever seen grace Cora’s lips. He’d seen her naked. He’d touched every bare part of her. He’d felt her tremble with release. Yet this was a new level of intimacy. Vulnerability. And he was glad of it. Glad that this ceremony could still feel so deeply personal, even though they were merely performing a ritual countless others had done before.

Upon the Godspriest’s instruction, he and Cora clasped hands. Even through their gloves, he could feel the warmth of her. He held Cora’s eyes, lost in them, in her, as the Godspriest performed the next part of the ritual.

One by one, he removed a strand of beads from around his neck and draped them over the couple’s clasped hands.

Red beads for the Goddess of War.

Blue for the Goddess of the Sea.

Green for the God of Mercy.

Gold for the God of Justice.

Black for the Goddess of Death.

White for the God of Creation.

And finally, pink for the Goddess of Love.

Then came the ceremonial words. Cora went first, repeating the dry and feelingless statements to Teryn. When it was Teryn’s turn, he held her palm tighter, desperate to convey that which was in his heart. Not the words he had to repeat. But the ones in his mind.

Open your senses to me , he silently begged of her as he gently tightened his grip once more in a single, deliberate pulse. Feel what I truly mean to convey .

Out loud he said, “I, Teryn Alante, Prince of Vera, take you to be my wedded wife.”

I, Teryn, ask you to have me, exactly as I am .

“In doing so, I bind our houses…”

I bind my heart to yours .

“…uniting Vera with Khero.”

Uniting our souls .

“I honor you for better or worse, for fairer or fouler, in sickness and health…”

I honor you in all things. I am here for you always .

“…to love and cherish ’til death do we part…”

I love you. I’ve already loved you beyond death. I fought death for you and I will fight death again if it means coming back to you .

“…in accordance with the law of the seven gods.”

This is what I want. What I choose. I choose you. I will always choose you .

Cora’s eyes glazed with tears, and he wondered if she’d understood. If she’d opened herself to his emotions to at least feel what he’d woven between his words. She squeezed his hand back in answer. She knew what was in his heart.

The Godspriest removed the beads from their hands, granting blessings from each of the gods. Then, finally, their hands no longer burdened with the strands, the man announced them husband and wife.

Teryn’s heart thundered against his ribs as he reached for Cora. He wasn’t even certain the Godspriest had stated they could kiss, but he didn’t care. He framed her face in his hands, and her arms wound around his waist. Their lips met in a firm yet tender kiss. How badly he wanted to deepen it, to sweep his tongue against hers, to steal her breath and give her his in return, but he settled on a prolonged meeting of their mouths. A silent reiteration of everything he’d conveyed in his vows.

When they eventually pulled apart, he found Cora’s cheeks were wet and her smile was wide. “I love you,” she whispered, the sound drowned by the audience’s applause.

Those words would wreck him until the end of time. He’d never tire of hearing them. He nearly bent in for another kiss when a shadow fell over Cora’s face. Cora froze, and the Godskeep fully darkened. The room was already dim enough, lit only by the few narrow windows lining the nave, but it was as if the curtains had been closed over them all at once.

Just as fast as the shadow had fallen, it was gone. Silence echoed in the room, punctuated by startled gasps. Teryn and Cora exchanged a questioning glance. That hadn’t seemed like a natural shadow. It had moved too fast to be a cloud covering the sun, and the sky had been overcast when he’d entered the Godskeep earlier. What the seven devils had caused that shadow?

In answer came a piercing screech that shattered the air.