The Mating Ritual: Werewolves of Montana Book 9

by Bonnie Vanak

  Nothing. Only the Fae magick he possessed, pulsing secret, dark, mysterious. Strong, but nothing close to his wizard powers.

  Then how had the bird come to life once more?

  He rejoined Alia, who looked up, her face radiant in the moonlight. She stroked the bird’s feathers in a gesture familiar to him.

  Squatting down, he gazed at her. Eleanor was long dead. He was too jaded to believe she had returned to him. Such things happened to others. Long ago, he’d resigned to never loving another woman. He was happy for Tristan and Xavier that they had found their mates.

  Gideon harbored a secret hope that dreams came true, that he could share his heart again with a woman, and cherish her and touch her with tender care as he once had with Eleanor.

  Amused at his sentimental thoughts, he touched the bird’s feathers. The bird climbed onto his hand and then with a chirp, flew away.

  When he looked at Alia, her eyes were shining and bright. Leaning close, he gently kissed her soft cheek.

  “Alia, how did you know to draw those runes? Did someone teach you?”

  She shook her head. “No. It just came to me. Did the runes restore life to the bird?”

  “Perhaps. Let’s not question it further. Tonight is for miracles, my sweet. There are still wonders that happen in this kingdom,” he said. “But this is a secret we alone must share.”

  Her smile fell. “Yes. No one else must know of this.”

  He took her hand as they walked back to the castle. Did Alia possess powers unknown to him? Or was something greater at work here, pushing against the dark forces pulsing from within the castle walls?

  3

  Today was her wedding day—the day she’d long dreaded.

  Stay positive. It cannot be that terrible. Women have survived weddings and wedding nights in your kingdom for millennia.

  Beneath her skirts, she wore lace stockings. She felt bare without the trusty dagger sheathed to her leg, but could not trust Gideon to know she liked to arm herself.

  Standing in the hand-carved wood gazebo where the ceremony would take place, Alia watched her father’s steward prepare the traditional cup of wine she and Gideon were to share immediately after saying their vows. Fairies flitted overhead, dusting the guests and the wedding party with glitter. It tasted like cinnamon and sugar. Rarely did the summer fairies deign to share their magick dust these days. Normally Alia would be delighted in such a rare gift. Not today.

  She was far too busy trying to maintain her composure and not let anyone see how terrified she was inside.

  In a white silk gown, a circlet of pink and white roses upon her dark head, Alia tried to contain her restlessness and look as demure as a royal bride.

  Gideon was late.

  Restless, she walked over to the railing of the gazebo. A white dove fluttered nearby. Alia held out her fingers and the dove landed on her hand. She began absently petting the bird.

  Finally, trumpets announced the arrival of her groom. Alia released the dove as a phalanx of royal guards from the Winter Kingdom escorted him to the gazebo. His father, the Winter King, was not present. Having both kings present would prove too volatile. Dangerous.

  One wrong word and war would break out.

  I wish.

  Instead, standing at Lord Gideon’s side was the Winter King’s representative, Lord Mylin. With his white gold hair down to his waist, and unlined face, Lord Mylin could be a thousand years old or ten thousand. Like all Fae, he did not age. But he looked severe, as she imagined all Dark Fae were.

  Except her groom. He seemed kind, and she liked the impish humor he exhibited.

  Careful Alia. You do not want to fall in love with him.

  Gideon mounted the steps of the gazebo and nodded at her father. He would never bow. She suspected that of him.

  Perhaps he would save the bowing and scraping for after they were wed, if he wished to curry favor from the king as all the nobles did. Her breath hitched at his nearness. Yet she did not sense he was like other Fae in the Summer Court. Gideon seemed to shun politics, pomp and circumstance.

  He smelled like cedar and spices, and woodsy. Her senses tingled as the fragrance washed over her.

  Clad in a black uniform, with gold piping, and black boots, Gideon had a thin gold belt encircling his lean waist. The jeweled dagger he’d previously worn dangled from the leather sheath upon the belt.

  He looked more ready to go to war than marriage.

  In his ceremonial garb of silver and white, with a blue cloak attached to his shoulders, and the crown of laurels upon his head, King Oren nodded to the aides, who instructed Gideon and Alia to take their places.

  Before them, far as the eye could see, stood the members of the Summer Court.

  “As the highest ranking royal of this court, I will conduct the ceremony,” Oren began.

  Suddenly a brilliant white light flashed. All in the gazebo stepped back. The light was too overpowering and she closed her eyes.

  When she opened them, a beautiful woman stood in the gazebo. Red hair spilled down to her waist and she was clad in a soft gown of forest green.

  Instinctively she knew who this was. A brilliant white aura pulsed around her, and her skin was delicate and pale, too lovely to be of this world.

  The goddess Danu, who ruled over them all.

  Her father took a knee. The sight of her father humbling himself proved so shocking Alia herself almost forgot to pay homage. Hastily, she knelt.

  Gideon had already done so.

  “Rise, children.” The goddess had a sweet, high musical voice like tinkling silver bells.

  “My lady Danu,” Gideon murmured.

  Alia looked at her groom. Shock filled her. His eyes had turned blood-red. She glanced down, thinking it a hallucination.

  Gideon cleared his throat. She glanced at him again and to her immense relief, his eyes were normal. A vein throbbed in his neck. “My lady Danu, you honor us with your presence. Is there a reason?”

  Alia marveled at his address of the powerful goddess who created the entire race of OtherWorlders. Gideon did not seem fearful or intimidated by Danu.

  It was almost as if he knew her.

  Danu regarded King Oren, who did not meet the goddess’ gaze.

  “Since this is the first marriage between the Winter Kingdom and the Summer Kingdom, I will officiate as the neutral third party to ensure the union is both legal and binding.”

  Now her father trembled openly. It was such a joyful thing to see the powerful Summer King afraid that Alia wanted to cheer.

  Expression neutral, Gideon blinked and swept Danu a courtly bow. “As you wish.”

  But as she stole a glance at the goddess, Alia could swear Danu had a playful smile upon her beautiful mouth.

  “Gideon and Alia, stand before me,” Danu commanded. “Alia, place your right hand in Gideon’s left hand.”

  They linked hands, Gideon’s palm cool and dry beneath the clamminess of her own. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and looked down at her, his expression solemn.

  “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

  She nodded, disarmed at his kind tone. Don’t make me fall in love with you. It is the worst thing I can do.

  Then she realized such thoughts were dangerous with their creator standing a few feet away. Danu surely could read minds.

  But the goddess said nothing, only took the silver and gold knife from the ceremonial stand.

  “Do you freely enter into this union with Prince Gideon of the Winter Court?” she asked Alia.

  “I do,” Alia said.

  The goddess turned to Gideon. “Do you freely enter into this union with Princess Alia of the Summer Court?”

  Gideon nodded.

  “I need verbal acquiescence,” the goddess told him.

  Gideon glanced at her. “I do.”

  Another secretive smile played on the goddess’ lips.

  The vows they exchanged were simple and said in the Old Language of Fae. Danu took the
goblet.

  But instead of handing it to Gideon first, as was tradition in the Summer Court, the goddess gave it to Alia.

  Stunned, Alia dared to raise her gaze to the goddess.

  “Drink, Alia, if you truly want this marriage in your heart,” Danu said gently.

  Her heart? No one asked her about that. She was the king’s daughter and it was expected of her. What choice did she have?

  Alia drank, and then handed the cup to Gideon. Amusement flashed across his face. He raised the goblet and nodded at her, and Danu.

  “To my lovely bride, and the lady Danu, creator of us all.” He drank, the strong muscles working in his throat.

  A Winter Court aide took the cup and set it aside.

  Danu told them to hold out their right hands.

  As they held out their hands, the goddess lanced their palms with the ceremonial knife. The cut stung, but Alia had felt worse.

  They clasped hands, their mingled blood dripping to the wood floor and sinking into it. Then Danu tied their wrists together with a silk ribbon. The goddess’ touch was gentle and soothing.

  “As I bind you together here on earth, so your souls will intertwine together for eternity, one heart, one spirit, one flesh.”

  Gideon’s mouth worked as he knit his brows together. Danu offered another serene smile.

  “Yes, Gideon, these words are not the traditional wedding vows for a Fae ceremony. I opted to use the more ancient and binding words.”

  Alia wondered why Gideon suddenly looked pale. Did he not mean this marriage to last? The marriage contract stated he must spend six months in the Summer Court, but he could return to the Winter Court soon as a child was conceived.

  Yet the words Danu spoke sounded formal and forever.

  Marriage to a total stranger was difficult enough, but when the stranger was bound to you for eternity, so declared by the goddess…

  They turned to face the crowd, who politely applauded. They turned back to bow to the goddess, and then they descended the steps of the gazebo. Gideon’s grip on her hand was steady and reassuring.

  On the grounds of the royal gardens, red, pink and white and silver roses decorating all the tables, was the wedding feast.

  As she sat at the head table, Alia looked at the vast array of Fae gathered before them. Her father on his silver and gold throne on a dais, reigning over them all. His nobles looking pompous and smug.

  Nervousness gripped her limbs, making her immobilized. How could she go through with this farce? And then do what she must to free her people? For most of her twenty-five years, she cherished all life. Alia had no desire to take Gideon’s.

  “Fear not, daughter. All will be well. There is a purpose for your marriage and your groom is compassionate and kind.”

  Had Danu spoken those words into her mind, or had Alia imagined them? She could not be certain, for the goddess had vanished as soon as she and Gideon started into the feast. Alia could not trust advice. All would not be well, not until her father was removed from power.

  Red and gold and blue and silver silk canopies draped over the trees to provide shade from the sun. Covered with woven silk cloths, each table bore a squat glass vase of gold and silver roses. Gideon settled Alia onto his lap and fed her the ceremonial first bite of their wedding dinner—a spun-sugar treat. His arm felt solid and secure around her, grounding her to a moment that seemed as wispy as a dream.

  “So you may never go hungry. I will always keep you satisfied, in every way possible, and your life will be sweeter as our flesh comes together as one,” he murmured.

  Their hands still tied together, Alia lifted the silver cup filled with nectar to his mouth.

  “So you may never thirst for another’s touch except mine. I will always quench your spirit, and my lips will always be the ones you remember in the sweetest kiss,” she murmured.

  Deep inside, she longed for the words to be true, but they rang false to her ears.

  The marriage is a farce, she reminded herself.

  Gideon gently clasped her chin and raised her face to his. His mouth met hers in a brief, sweet kiss, but she could not ignore the sparks flaring between them, the arousal pulsing through her body.

  He drew back, his eyes filled with secrets, his expression puzzled. Gideon touched her cheek. “I feel as if I have known you all my life.”

  “I as well,” she could not help but state. Dangerous words, for she did not want to know him, nor have him know her.

  Your obligation to saving your people comes first.

  Didn’t it always? Her own personal happiness had to be sacrificed for the greater good.

  Gideon kissed her again, this time his mouth lingering on hers with possessive intent. When he broke the kiss, she felt shaken by the mystical power of the moment, and the overwhelming feeling that they had indeed known each other before.

  Gideon untied the silk ribbon and settled in for the wedding feast.

  There were courses of rich roast pork, delicate sugary pastries adored by the Fae of the Summer Court, and to honor Gideon, Leasome, a bittersweet and tantalizing dish made from snow, syrup and spun sugar.

  Gideon held up the white and pink square. “Try this, my wife. It is most delicious and favored by my people.”

  As she opened her mouth, he fed it to her, his fingers lightly brushing against her chin and making her heart race. Every time Gideon touched her, it sent her blood pulsing faster, made her lightheaded with yearning.

  The Leasome had a light, delicate almond flavor she found fascinating and much less sweet than the treats of her kingdom. She licked her lips.

  “With all this sugar, it is amazing your kind is not plumper,” she teased. Then she bit her lip.

  Why was she engaging her groom in talk when she must put a blade to his heart?

  Gideon smiled and brushed his mouth against hers, his tongue licking off the excess sugar from her lips.

  Unnerved, Alia drew back. His natural sensuality aroused her. She would do what she must to consummate the union, but did not dare entertain any emotional connection to her groom. Not even for that most intimate of acts.

  Suddenly Danu appeared at the table of the fairies of the Winter Court, who sat across from the fairies of the Summer Court. The winged creatures, normally no larger than Alia’s thumb, had assumed their larger form for the feast.

  Danu picked up a silver goblet of wine and drank, listening to the fairies and smiling at them. Then she began to talk in earnest and all the fairies leaned in to listen.

  “It seems our lady goddess has decided to remain at the feast,” Gideon murmured. He drummed his fingers on the smooth, polished stone of their table.

  “I have never seen her before, nor has anyone else in this court in many an age,” Alia told him. “It is an honor to have her here, but she does make several nervous with her presence.”

  When she glanced back at the table, Danu had vanished.

  The master of ceremonies held out his staff and pounded it into the ground. Blue and red sparked flew into the air.

  “My lords, ladies and gentle Fae, one of the fairies wishes to honor us with a song.” The man stepped aside as a fairy in a delicate emerald green gown, with silver and gold roses woven into her hair, flew over to the stage.

  Clasping a stringed lyre, the fairy sang. She had a sweet voice. So compelling were the notes and harmony, all stopped talking to listen, even King Oren.

  The fairy sang of the fair Lady Eleanor, daughter of a king, who loved true and was to marry the Fae of her heart. But betrayed and murdered by her infuriated relatives who shunned the match, Eleanor died, calling her lover’s name. He never came for her, and her heart shattered as the last breath left her body.

  Emotion clogged Alia’s throat as her vision blurred from tears. Poor Eleanor. Her heart twisted at the thought of the Fae king’s daughter caught in a political game, who had lost her love and her life.

  She let the tears fall freely, not caring who saw. Then a warm palm clasped hers.


  To her amazement, Gideon’s eyes were wet. She had never seen a man cry before, and all the men in her father’s court would scoff at such a display of emotion, calling it weak. Yet Gideon never seemed more masculine and self-assured.

  He gently squeezed her hand as the song ended and then handed her a square of cloth from the pocket of his black uniform.

  Alia wiped her eyes. “Such a sad, beautiful song.”

  “Lady Eleanor’s heartbreak always makes me emotional,” he admitted. “I have seldom heard it at a wedding feast. Most historic songs tend to be celebratory.”

  “I have heard of the legend, of course, but that was more than a thousand years ago. My teachers said she was a compilation of several Fae. There was no real Lady Eleanor.”

  Her groom scrubbed his face with the back of one hand. He looked distant as he gazed at the snow-capped mountains, the barrier between his world and hers. “Your teachers are wrong. Eleanor was real. She had a pure, gentle heart. She was lovely, too good for the cruelties our kind can inflict.”

  “Yes, the Fae can indeed be quite cruel.”

  Gideon glanced at her. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine, thank you, Lord Gideon.”

  “Alia, you are my wife now. You may address me as Gideon.”

  No familiarity. I will not lose my heart to you as Eleanor lost hers to her love, and then died of sadness.

  Still clasping her lyre, the fairy came over to the head table. “Did you enjoy the song, Lord Gideon?” the fairy chirped.

  He seemed to gauge his words carefully. “It is a heart wrenching tale from long ago, and you did the tale justice. Thank you for the gift of your voice.”

  Suddenly the fairy transformed into the goddess Danu. Danu waved a hand and the lyre vanished. “I am most glad the song touched you. Lady Eleanor would be indeed happy to know as well.”

  Gideon’s brows knit as he glared at the goddess, who nodded at Alia. “Be well, daughter. Take heart.”

  Her husband locked gazes with Danu and pointed to the distant gazebo. “A word, if you will, my lady.”

  Danu vanished. Perplexed, Alia studied her husband. “What was that about?”

  Gideon picked up her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “Nothing that should distress you. I shall be back momentarily.”