A Wild Light

by Marjorie Liu

So many mysteries. Nothing as I had expected. Not the prison veil, not the Mahati, not the bargain I’d made. Not my mother, the Labyrinth, or the man there, who had imbued the seed ring with the knowledge of how to close the veil. A man who had known that it would fall not just into my possession, but Grant’s.

  It was my father who helped us, I wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come to me. I found Grant watching me, though, and there was a look in his eyes.

  “Mysteries,” I said. “Like us.”

  He placed his battered hand over my heart, and I held it there, listening to my body, something deeper than my body, feeling the pulse of my link to Grant—and beyond that, the slow, coiled darkness resting, waiting, dreaming.

  Scared me, but not like it had before.

  I might not know it, but I knew myself.

  Raw and Aaz crawled into our laps. Zee shuffled close, but he was watching the east, and the dawn sky.

  “Miss the sun,” he said.

  I had forgotten the sunrises in Texas. I’d lived in Seattle for so long, I’d almost forgotten the sun. I missed it, too, but not like the boys. I pulled Zee close and kissed his forehead. Dek and Mal hummed to themselves.

  Grant shifted slightly and took my right hand. He pressed something small against my palm. I frowned, and looked.

  It was a ring. Small, delicate, made of pure soft gold. No gems.

  Zee and the boys stilled. So did I.

  Grant tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. He tried again, and I covered his mouth with my hand, staring into his eyes.

  I stared, and stared, then extended my left hand.

  Grant took a breath, and picked up the ring from my other hand. He slid it carefully onto my trembling finger.

  Zee laid his head on my knee and closed his eyes with a faint smile. Raw and Aaz covered their mouths, rocking. Dek and Mal purred.

  “With this ring, I thee wed,” he whispered.

  “Until death do us part,” I said.

  1

  Romantic Times