Page 49 of Through the Veil (Endangered Fae #2)

M iriam took credit for the weather. She claimed she had ordered the picture-perfect fluffy clouds and seventy degrees just for the occasion. The fae knew her well enough not to take her seriously and instead treated the statement as a metaphor for all the things she truly had accomplished.

At that moment, she mingled with the guests in the garden, while Diego stared out of the window at the ever-growing gathering.

“Diego, siéntate. ” Carlita pushed him into the nearest kitchen chair. “You’ve gone all white.”

The Sandoval clan had arrived the night before, granted special visas for the week.

Diego’s sister, Carlita, had jumped at the chance, as curious about the fae as she was eager to see her big brother.

She was divorced, again, so she had no need to drag a husband along, but Diego’s niece and nephew, ages seven and five respectively, came with her, as well as Diego’s somewhat reluctant father.

Enrico Sandoval had taken some years to come to terms with his son being gay.

Now he had to sift through the added facts that not only was his son gay, but he was about to marry another male, and that other male wasn’t even human.

He’d accepted the invitation all the same, and had even spoken to Finn on the phone several times before the trip, patiently helping Finn through his less-than-perfect Spanish.

“Just a dizzy spell.” Diego accepted the glass of water she handed him and took a small sip. “I guess I’m a little more nervous than I thought.”

“You fight monsters and big, bad government agencies and this scares you?”

“I am a man, hermanita . I think we’re hardwired to be afraid of marriage.”

Her laugh soothed him, a sound from his childhood and the happy memories there. “Not many men die from wedding jitters. You did take your medicine, right?”

“I did. I made sure.”

“ Bien , you’re golden then.”

Finn twisted around again to glance out of the bedroom window at the garden below and the guests milling about.

Eithne swatted his shoulder. “Sit still. Worse than a little eel.”

“Your pardon. I’m a bit…overexcited.”

She let out a little growl and he straightened to face the mirror, trying his level best to stay still while she finished his hair.

Diego liked to brush his hair out, but had never done…

this . It was a new experience, but then, most everything that day would be, hence his nerves jumping like spring frogs.

Nervous, anxious, uncertain, he was supposed to do something about these feelings. Ah, yes. “Beloved? I feel as if I might come out of my skin at any moment.”

Diego’s thoughts came back to him in a song. “‘ It ain’t no sin to take off your skin and dance around in your bones…’”

Finn laughed. “That would be quite a sight.”

“Is it all the people?”

“Yes, that. And I am terrified I will forget what I am to say. I will make a fool of myself and embarrass you.”

“That’s why the minister’s there, mi vida . If you forget, she’ll prompt you. A lot of people get nervous and have sudden attacks of wedding senility at the altar.”

“Very well, then. For you I will be brave, my hero.”

“Finn?”

“Hmm?”

“I can’t wait to see you. And you’d never embarrass me. I love you. I’m so proud of you.”

“Now what is that besotted smile for, Fionnachd?” Eithne brought him back to the physical world as she finished his hair.

“Diego.” He glanced up at her when she snorted. “That is, he was bespeaking me, telling me…well, that’s a private matter.”

She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I have never seen you so happy as when you are with him. A moment more, I have something for you.” When she waved her hand, a carved box materialized on the dresser. From this, Eithne drew a silver disc on a long chain, which she looped over Finn’s head.

“It is lovely.” He rose to view it in the light. Fomorian glyphs winked in gold and copper along the disc’s rim, its center occupied by an oak etched into the silver. “What is it?”

“The Champion’s seal,” Eithne told him with a soft smile. “You were our champion but for a short time, but Father decreed you should have one to match Faolchú’s.”

“Truly? But I’m naught but a—”

“You are our champion, Fionnachd.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his lips. “Our hero.”

A strange feeling swelled in his chest, making him want to stand taller. After some reflection, he thought it might be pride.

Diego pulled at his tuxedo jacket again, regretting the formalwear in light of the day’s warmth and the relative informality of the setting. Tia Carmen said the gray cutaway made him look like he had stepped off the movie screen, though, so he supposed it wasn’t all bad.

The guests in all their varied finery filled the chairs and grass.

Apple blossoms drifted through the air in a miniature snowstorm.

Lugh and Zack, acting as his groomsmen, waited under the wisteria-covered pergola, with Faolchú and Angus, as two of Finn’s oldest friends, standing on the other side, all of them in the royal military dress uniforms of pine green and gold that the fae had adopted for human occasions.

With Carlita on his arm, Diego made his way down the aisle, through this beautiful tableau. He hoped he wouldn’t faint. Carlita handed him off to his groomsmen with a kiss and took her seat with the family.

“Don’t lock your knees, Mr. S.,” Zack leaned in to whisper. “Or you’re gonna do a face-plant right into the roses.”

“I’ll do my best.” Diego managed to crack a smile. “But I have you two here. I have every confidence you’d catch me.”

“We would never let you fall, little man,” Lugh murmured, a rather suspect quiver to his voice.

Diego had no chance to ask if he was all right, since the fae musicians at the back struck up a tune, a curious mix of harmony and discordance played on reed, wind and percussive instruments he couldn’t name.

All heads turned toward the embassy and into this anticipatory atmosphere, accompanied by the ethereal, haunting music, strode Finn. Tia Carmen walked with him, the closest person he had ever had to a parent, beaming up at him.

Diego’s knees threatened to buckle at the approach of this vision in silver and cream.

Putting Finn in a tux had seemed a crime against nature, so Diego had left him to choose his own wedding attire.

Madre de Dios , it was barely legal. Finn wore a pair of leather pants, slung low on his hips and so tight and soft, it looked as if he had been poured into butter cream.

His long, elegant feet were bare, as many of the fae ’s were, and up top, he wore only a cream-colored leather vest, short enough to leave a tantalizing bit of skin exposed.

His hair hung loose except for a few artfully crafted, slender braids woven with silver filigree and white starflowers.

“My angel,” Diego breathed as he held out his hands to receive Finn’s. The guests, the embassy and the garden all faded from his vision.

Finn leaned close to whisper in his ear, “I take it you are pleased?”

“I think I might be having a stroke,” Diego answered. He went on when he saw Finn’s concern, “You’re so beautiful.”

“So are you,” Finn said with a long look up and down Diego’s body.

The minister cleared her throat. “If our grooms are finished admiring each other…”

Laughter rippled through the guests and Diego chuckled, too, even as he felt himself flush.

They stood with hands joined, gazing into each other’s eyes as they spoke their vows.

Finn didn’t forget a single syllable, though his hands shook so badly when it came to exchanging rings, Diego had to help him as he slid the ring on his finger and spoke the words, “With this ring, I thee wed, and pledge my faithful love.”

Finally, the minister spoke the words, “You may kiss.”

Diego turned his face up to Finn’s and blinked in surprise. “ Carino, you’re glowing.” The blue light danced over Finn’s skin, as it did sometimes when they made love.

Finn took Diego’s face between his hands. “So are you.”

When their lips met, a visible spark leaped between them. The blue of Finn’s magic met Diego’s blinding white, and the two melded into one.

A strange fae stood at the back of the company.

No one knew him, but he had come from the Otherworld, so no one questioned his presence.

As tall as any of the sidhe , as massive as the largest of the Fomorians, his golden skin seemed to attract the sunlight as he stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

When the wedded couple kissed, he raised his hand and whispered, “Fionnachd of the Shannon, may you have times of peace now. May your heart heal and your days be filled with joy. Long life to you, Diego Sandoval, and a pooka’s own luck.”

A golden ball rose from his palm to join the glow under the pergola, nestling softly in with the blue-white nimbus surrounding Finn and Diego.

The golden fae toyed with the odd pendant around his neck, a red, plastic pen on a gold chain.

A sharp-toothed smile lit his face as he finished his spell.

“The blessings and thanks of my people go with you, oh Knight of the Pen.”