Pride Before A Fall (Book 21 in the Godhunter Series)

by Amy Sumida

  “Welcome, honored family and friends,” Hymen declared. “We are here to witness the marriage vows of these two gods: Horus of the Egyptians and Hekate of the Greeks. Two pantheons unite today, and I am both grateful and honored to be a part of this momentous occasion.”

  Hymen laid his hands upon Horus and Hekate's shoulders, speaking softly to them before continuing. My excellent hearing was able to pick up what was said anyway. Hymen had asked the couple if they were ready, and Horus had snapped at him to get on with it. Despite Horus's gruffness, Hymen smiled brightly and launched into the ceremony.

  “Marriage is a sacred union that should not be entered into lightly,” Hymen said. “Especially between gods. As the God of Marriage, I take every ceremony that I perform with the utmost seriousness and require the couples I join to go through a test before I consent to perform their ritual. Obviously, Hekate and Horus passed my test.”

  Hymen smirked as the crowd chuckled.

  “But I'm making a note of it here today because of how they passed,” he went on. “My magic possesses a bit of prescience, and I'm able to look into the future of a relationship and see the many paths it can take.”

  I shivered at the mention of prescience. First the birds, and now this. Would Morrigan's memory ever stop haunting me?

  “If a relationship has more happy paths than tragic,” Hymen continued, “I count the test as a success. The future is so changeable, though, so many possible paths are available to all of us. I have never looked forward into a couple's life together and seen only happiness. Until now.”

  The gathered gods went silent as Hymen's words sunk in. I closed my eyes and let the peace of it fill me. To know that Horus would be happy at last, after his years of loneliness, lightened my heart.

  “No matter what happens around them, these two gods never falter in their love for each other,” Hymen said reverently. “Frankly, I am in awe of their bond and all of this,” he waved his hand out to us, “is truly unnecessary. Horus and Hekate are already committed to each other more than any ritual could offer them.”

  Hekate and Horus stared at each other with soft smiles.

  “Still, they want to share their love with you, their friends and family,” Hymen said. “And to declare their bond for all the realms to know. So, we shall begin this farce.”

  Hymen winked at the gathering, and we all laughed.

  “Horus,” Hymen started, “will you bind yourself to this woman, Hekate of the Greeks, with Blood to Heart, vowing to protect her against her enemies, trust her with your most private thoughts, and be true to her for all of eternity?”

  “And love her,” Horus added as he lifted his hand. “I will love you forever, Katie.”

  Hymen smiled softly and unsheathed a small silver knife. He made a tiny cut in Horus's thumb as Hekate undid one of the pearl buttons over her chest and pulled the silk apart for Horus. When Horus set his thumb to Hekate's skin, a pulse of magic flowed out from them, and Hekate smiled.

  “I will love you forever too, Horus.”

  A tear slipped down Horus's cheek, but he didn't wipe it away. He let it remain like a badge of honor.

  Hymen repeated the ritual for Hekate. She remained dry-eyed throughout her vow and the Blood to Heart ritual, but her gaze was full of love, and her radiant smile was the highlight of the event. When Hymen turned the couple toward the crowd and declared that they were man and wife, bound together with love, blood, and destiny itself, the rejoicing roar was deafening.

  The newlyweds strode back into their mansion beneath a shower of rose petals thrown by their divine guests. What better way to begin a marriage than by being blessed by hundreds of gods?

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “I wonder if every wedding will remind me of ours,” Azrael mused as he swayed across the dance floor with me.

  “I hope so.” I smirked. “The day that attending a wedding doesn't serve to remind you of your own is the day that our wedding ceases to be important to you.”

  “Then I will be reminded forever,” he declared.

  “Good answer,” I said.

  “I like this house.” Azrael looked around us at the antique wallpaper and the crystal chandeliers. “It's romantic.”

  “Because we're at a wedding.”

  “There is that,” Az said dryly. “There is also the character of the building itself.”

  “Yep, it definitely has character,” I agreed. “I'm not sure which character, though. Is it more Morticia Addams or Lily Munster?”

  “You don't like Victorians?” Azrael chuckled.

  “I love them,” I said. “I just don't want to live in one.”

  “Why not?”

  “Seven out of ten times, when I watch one of those reality shows where they investigate haunted houses, the house is a Victorian.” I grimaced. “And there's usually some whiny woman in white, wailing all over the place.”

  “A wailing, whiny woman in white?” Azrael exclaimed in mock horror. “Oh, no!”

  “Hey, I don't tell the ghosties how to dress,” I huffed. “And I don't go buying their houses either. Mama didn't raise a fool. You won't find me walking down into the basement with a dying flashlight, calling out 'Who's there?' every time a voice says 'Get out!' I'd be calling Ghostbusters, that's who I'd be calling.”

  “But we wouldn't be buying a Victorian”–he nuzzled my cheek as his wings pulled in around us–“we'd be making one with magic. I can say with absolute certainty that there will be no wailing women in it, unless it's you, screaming out in pleasure.”

  “There is that,” I mimicked him.

  “Lots of angels in Shehaquim have Victorians,” Azrael went on.

  “Well, if all the other angels are doing it ...” I teased.

  “Then I want to do it,” Re interrupted us. “What are angels doing that we should be doing?”

  “Building a house.” I chuckled. “You want to help?”

  “Oh.” Re's face fell. “I think I'll pass. I would like to cut in on this dance, though.”

  Azrael kissed my cheek and gallantly held my hand out to Re. The Sun God swept me up against him and started swishing me about the dance floor expertly.

  “I think that I may want this someday,” Re whispered.

  “A Victorian?” I huffed. “What's with you guys and this damn house?”

  “No, this.” Re nodded to Horus and Hekate as the couple waltzed around the room. “For us.”

  “Are you trying to propose?” I asked in shock. “Because you're doing a horrible job of it.”

  “No, I'd never be so gauche as to propose to you at my grandson's wedding.” Re made a face. “That would be rude to both him and you.”

  “So, what are you saying?”

  “That I think I want to be married again,” he said simply. “To you.”

  “That sounds like a proposal.”

  “Not right now,” he amended. “But if I were to propose, how do you think the others would feel about it?”

  I looked over at my husbands, gathered protectively around Lesya as they spoke with the ease of men who had fought and loved together. They were a bit cliquish if truth be told, and I could see how difficult it must be for Re not to be included in their number. But that was one of the perks of being in our type of relationship; we were bonded together stronger than lovers, or even family. Re was getting close to that status but wasn't quite there yet.

  “I think they'd welcome you.”

  “Really?” He looked surprised.

  “They like you, Re,” I said. “They've already accepted you as my lover, why do you think they wouldn't accept you as my husband?”

  “Because of what Trevor said when this all began.”

  “Ah.” I smiled as I remembered. “That thing about you being allowed to be my boyfriend, so long as I didn't marry you?”

  “That would be it.” He grimaced.

  “Trevor meant that he didn't want me marrying you back then, with all of them,” I explained. “We had our w
edding planned already, and he didn't want you swooping in at the last moment and adding yourself as a groom.”

  “Oh, yes, I recall it now,” Re stammered. “I guess I took it the wrong way.”

  “It was a bit of an emotional time for us,” I said gently.

  Re laughed. “Emotional? Sure, if by 'emotional' you mean that I was nearly torn apart by my love for you; a love that just commandeered my heart one morning. That I have never been so consumed by fear and jealousy over a woman and it nearly drove me mad. That I couldn't even imagine how my life could go on without you in it. Then yes, I was emotional.”

  “Re,” I whispered, “I love you too.”

  “I know, La-la, and I'm grateful for your love every day of my life.” Re lowered his forehead to mine, and we stopped dancing to simply be with each other. “The sun would not rise without you beside me. I would fade away into darkness.”

  “We rely on each other.” I laid my palm to Re's cheek and opened my eyes. “I need your light as much as you need mine.”

  “And that's how it should be,” Re declared. “May we shine forever for each other.”

  “Now, that really sounded like a proposal,” I said softly.

  “More like a marriage vow,” he said solemnly. “I don't know that I even need a ceremony. No ring or ritual could make me more committed to you, and there isn't a vow to be said that I haven't already made, if not aloud, then in my heart.”

  “That was the sweetest speech that has ever been made to get out of marrying a woman.” I gave him a hard look. “And it reminds me a little of what Hymen said during the wedding. You biting someone else's lines, Sun God?”

  Re's face went blank, and then he saw the mischief in my eyes. He burst out laughing. The other dancers gave us indulgent looks as the greatest god in the Egyptian pantheon lifted me off my feet and swung me around in a circle.

  “If you insist, La-la,” Re said as he lowered me to my feet. “I accept your proposal.”

  “What?” I gaped at him.

  Re stayed serious for about five seconds before laughing again. I started to relax, and we began to dance.

  “No, that wouldn't be proper.” Re smirked. “When I propose, since you're so adamant that I should”–he paused to give me a smug look–“it will be grand. You will never forget the day that the Sun God Re asked for your hand in marriage.”

  “Oh, but I'm already regretting it.” I groaned.

  “Nonsense,” Re said. “I know your dreams shall be full of fantasies of me and how I'll propose to you.”

  “Why did I ever agree to be with you?” I rolled my eyes. “You are the most arrogant man I know. You're even worse than Arach, and that says a lot.”

  “Ah, but you cannot shine without me, La-la,” he said firmly. “Do you not recall? You said it only moments ago.”

  “Oh, yes,” I whispered. “I remember now. I love you, despite your glaring narcissism.”

  “And I love you”–he went suddenly serious–“despite the fact that you've made my life perilous.”

  “I'm sorry, Re,” I stammered. “You know that I don't mean to put you in danger.”

  “That's not what I meant,” he said gently. “As much as I wake every day, thankful to be a part of your life, I also wake with a fear that I could lose you at any moment. And if I did, there would be no recovering for me.”

  “The greatest love demands the greatest risk,” I agreed. “But you don't have to be afraid, Re. If there's one thing that my love magic has taught me, it's that love like ours has no end. Nothing can stop it; not anger, or betrayal, or even death itself. No matter what tries to tear us apart, we will be pulled back to each other like magnets. And that is my vow to you, Sun God. Live in peril no longer.”

  “The Godhunter saves another god,” Re whispered before pulling me into a passionate kiss.

  You gotta love the irony.

  Keep reading for some sneak peeks a few of Amy's newest books

  First, a look into the next book in the Godhunter Series:

  Monsoons and Monsters

  Chapter One

  The Fire Kingdom had its first playground. Children playing was not an unknown concept to the Fey, but it had been quite awhile since there were enough children in a single kingdom to warrant a designated area for them to cavort in. Now that the royal princes were of a rambunctious age, the thought occurred to me that it might be nice to have some faerie-children-friendly activity equipment set up behind Castle Aithinne. The Hidden-One babies were starting to drive their mother crazy, and the phooka pups had long been running all over creation, getting into all sorts of mischief. Then there was Hunter, Roarke's son, who took after his father in so many ways. We needed a playground.

  I called a meeting with all of the fire fey parents and we discussed the needs of each child. Then we came up with playground equipment that would suit those needs. An area was designated and smoothed over with a layer of soft sand, then the equipment was assembled. We had some of your usual things such as see-saws, swings, and slides. But there were also some very faerie-oriented sets. The jungle gym, for example, was over twenty feet high with multi-levels. It had a central pole which could be climbed and clawed, rope netting to hang from, metal loops for nimble appendages (of all sorts), and a loft for the children to get a nice view of the kingdom from. There was a giant, metal wheel set up on its side, with nubs for handholds welded all over the inner portion–basically a giant hamster wheel. The babies needed a place to run without escaping their parents, and the other parents thought my concept was an ingenious idea. I just didn't tell them it was inspired by a rodent wheel.

  There was also a pond-shaped foam pad, with trampolines in the shape of lily pads set into the blue foam. The children could jump from pad to pad, and if they fell, they didn't hurt themselves. There was also a rock pit full of tiny pebbles for the children to roll in. Some of the Hidden-One children especially liked burrowing, but their parents didn't want them covered in dirt or sand by the end of the day. Fur can be hard to get sand out of. So, the pebbles were a perfect solution... and they were fireproof.

  Most of the playground was fireproof, actually. Only some of the ropes would burn if there was an accident. Speaking of fire, the playground had been specifically set up around a small crack in the earth which led down to the magma rivers running below the Fire Kingdom. It wasn't big enough for them to fall into, only a few inches wide, but it emitted a constant stream of heat that everyone, adults included, enjoyed basking in. In fact, it had become the spot the parents liked to congregate around as they watched over the children.

  I was currently sitting on a blanket near the heat crack with Arach, Dexter lying between us contentedly. The phooka pups' mother, Neala, was sitting beside me while Roarke and Taog, who was father to the Hidden-One children, sat next to Arach. The men were giving their ladies some time off, and looking after the children for them.

  “Hunter, if you knock Rian off the loft one more time, you're getting a spanking!” Roarke shouted. “And there will be no hunting tonight!”

  “Don't worry about Rian,” Arach said. “He'll be fine. He needs someone to challenge him, and there's a net below. The only thing injured is his pride.”

  Sure enough, my son was scurrying back up the central pole in the jungle gym, eyes glowing with determination to get his revenge. Hunter wasn't at all fazed by his father's threat, but the approach of the dragon prince had him scrambling. He hissed down at Rian and my son roared back.

  “Boys,” I sighed as I looked over at Neala.

  Neala's children, a mix of girls and boys, had just turned five in October, but they, as most faeries, grew faster than human babies and were closer to the size of ten-year-olds. They were bouncing across the lily pads like frogs, trying to knock each other aside at mid-leap. One of them succeeded in slamming his brother off-course, and the offended sibling shifted into canine form and started snarling.

  “Conan!” Neala shouted.

  Yes, the kid's name i
s Conan, it's Fey, okay?

  That was all Neala had to do. The snarling phooka shifted back into a boy and came trudging over to his mother holding the remnants of his shredded clothing. Neala gave him a hard glare, then a new pair of pants. Conan pulled them on, his mother kissed his cheek, and he smiled brilliantly as he hurried back to the playground.

  “Neala, you need to teach me that trick,” Roarke huffed. “Hunter never listens to me.”

  “No one ever listens to you,” I said dryly, and we all chuckled.

  “Har har.” Roarke grimaced.

  “It's a mother voice,” Taog said sympathetically. “Fionnaghal has it to, but damned if I can manage it. My children just stare at me like I've lost my senses, then they go back to whatever they were doing.”

  “You're too soft on them,” Arach declared sagely. “Children need a firm, fiery hand.”

  “Says the man who taught his son that dragons get whatever they want, whenever they want it,” I scoffed.

  “No!” Neala gasped. “King Arach, that was a horrible mistake, I'm sorry to say.”

  “Yes, well, parenthood is a learning experience,” Arach said loftily. “That was obviously a lesson I should have reserved for when he was more mature.”

  “Or not given to him at all,” I noted.

  “Now, A Thaisce”–Arach gave me his indulgent husband look–“our son needs to know that he is royalty, dragon royalty, and that makes him important.”

  “Our son needs to learn to love his people and look after their needs before his own,” I countered.

  “Yes, yes, the people are important,” Arach said. “But there is an order to things, a hierarchy.”

  “You're an elitist pig,” I pointed out calmly.

  “An elitist dragon, dear,” Arach corrected.

  A sudden commotion from the castle entrance turned our attention away from Arach's bad attitude. The sound of barking echoed out to us, and then shouting. Within the shadowed archway I started to see a glimmer of white, then a pack of hounds came streaking out it, towards us. Close on their tails was a group of goblins, rattling in their armor as they ran.