Veron had asked her to wear this gown, this same gown, and she hadn’t brought another for the second ceremony, so she’d reluctantly agreed. Besides, when everyone in Bellanzole had seen it as shocking, he hadn’t—at all. It meant something different to him.
“I’m sure.”
“You look beautiful,” Gabriella said, sweeping a stray lock of her hair off her face. She and Danika had returned with Papà and Lorenzo safely, thank the Mother.
She took Gabriella’s hand. “Thank you. For taking the messages to Bellanzole. You did a very brave thing that saved lives.”
Gabriella blushed, then inclined her head. “It was my honor.”
Bianca’s eyes widened, and Aless spun to see Veron approaching, in his best leathers, astride Noc. She blinked, and suddenly she was in L’Abbazia Reale again, watching a dark-elf prince on a massive black horse trotting down the hall, decked out for battle, regal and intimidating, well built and hale like the heroes of old, hewn from Carrerra marble.
She blinked again, and Veron was the same man, but so much more. The man she loved, who loved her. The man who listened to her. The man who wanted to live her dreams with her. The only one she could ever imagine wanting to spend the rest of her life with.
She wouldn’t live even a fraction as long as he would, but she’d live the days they had left together to their fullest, knowing he loved her just as she loved him. It was more than she’d ever dared to hope.
A smile on his face, he drank her in with his exploring gaze, and her cheeks warmed.
“I think he does like the dress,” Bianca whispered in her ear with a giggle.
She shushed Bianca and approached the balustrade. “Is it time?”
“It is.” He extended a hand to her, here, in this blooming courtyard of daydreams. “Will you do me the honor?”
She took his hand, descended the steps, and let him help her into the saddle. He gave a nod to Bianca and Gabriella, thick as thieves, who watched them leave. Bianca even gave her a wink. The troublemaker.
Their teasing made her heart flutter, and here, enshrined in Veron’s arms, she had all the reason in the world to be giddy.
Her eyes closed, she tucked her head under Veron’s chin, settled into his embrace, breathed in his pure forest-stream scent. “You’re sure you like the dress?”
A soft breath. “I am. It suits you, my love.” A light, playful tone danced in his deep voice. “But I do have something to ask you,” he added, and that playful tone faded.
“Hmm?” She opened her eyes, straightened a little.
He let the silence stay a while. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
She looked up at him, but there was no room to see his face. Now, minutes before their Offering, he doubted her?
“I once told you I couldn’t release you,” he said softly. “But now, Aless, if you tell me this isn’t what you want, I will help you, whatever it takes.”
That’s what this was about? He’d told her in Stroppiata that he couldn’t release her, but she didn’t want to be released. She wanted this—him—with every fiber of her being.
But he… he wanted her to choose this, not just accept it. He supported her decision, whether it was to do what he wanted or not.
If they weren’t in the saddle, and about to stand in front of hundreds of people, she’d tackle him right now. “Veron, I want a life with you. I choose this. I choose you.”
He let out a heavy breath. “That’s a relief.” A few deep breaths. “But I wanted—I needed—to ask.”
“And I love that you did.” She nuzzled his chest as Noc took them to the front of Baraza Gate, where no less than three hundred guests surrounded the vine-wrapped ruins. The Bloom shimmered all around them, glittered, and the gentle glow like stars all around was the pixies in attendance.
One raced from the rest, a little glowing star, and landed on her shoulder with a happy chime in greeting. A little pink-haired and leaf-wrapped pixie.
“Tiny,” she breathed, and smiled. “You came.”
“Tiny?” Veron asked, bending to look. “Hello,” he whispered brightly.
Tiny fluffed her hair and crossed her legs, fluttering her wings as if to demonstrate their shimmering beauty.
“Did you do something new to your hair?” Aless asked, receiving a lively wing-fluttering in reply.
Xira, the mystic from the lifespring, stood at the top of the ruins’ steps in her violet robes, her white hair ruffled by the breeze. While Queen Zara—Mati—seemed to preside over nearly all events in Nozva Rozkveta, Offerings were the mystics’ preserve.
Veron dismounted and helped her down from Noc’s saddle. “Thank you, old friend,” he said softly, patting his neck.
Noc swished his tail and sprightly headed off to the side, where Arabella took in the whole assembly with interest, turning her horned head this way and that. Dhuro and Gavri stood with her, occasionally whispering things.
Veron took her hand, and together, they ascended the steps to stand before Xira. When her eyes met his, he was smiling, and she couldn’t help but smile, too. They were doing this. They were finally doing this.
“Nozva Rozkveta bids you welcome,” Xira announced to all the guests. “Today we gather in support of Prince Veron of Nozva Rozkveta and Princess Alessandra Ermacora of Silen as they make the Offering to each other, before Deep, Darkness, and Holy Ulsinael, and pledge to walk their lives together. Let us take a moment to welcome Holy Ulsinael here, to bless their union with his dark grace.”
Xira clasped her hands together, closed her eyes, and bowed her head, as did Veron, as did Mati, as did every dark-elf in attendance, and Aless did the same.
Holy Mother, bless our union. Holy Ulsinael, bless our union.
She prayed, willing with all her heart that her prayers be heard, and when she opened her eyes, both Veron and Xira were grinning at her. Her cheeks warmed, but she only held his gaze, even as that playful grin warmed her cheeks even more.
Xira took their hands and joined them. “Make your Offerings.”
Holding her hand, Veron stroked her fingers, his grin fading to a pensiveness, intensifying those warm golden eyes as he shifted in his boots. In Bellanzole, he’d arrived with a full arsenal of weapons and made an Offering to her right there, in L’Abbazia Reale, in the hallway. It had been a stunning moment, one she’d never forget.
Today, he had no sword, no bow, no knives, no shield, nor scroll.
He stood before her, holding her hand, regarding her warmly. “Aless, when we first married in Bellanzole, I offered you power, survival, skill, defense, and wisdom. I didn’t know you then,” he said to her, searching her eyes as a subtle smile claimed his lips. “But I know you now, and you require none of those things from me. You’re a force to be reckoned with in your own right, and it is my great fortune to be by your side.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and shallow breaths were all she could muster.
“Alessandra Ermacora, princess of Silen, I, Veron of Nozva Rozkveta, offer you my love, my loyalty, and my life”—he held her hand to his chest—“to harness for your ends or ours, as we walk our lives together from this day forward for as long as the Deep allows.”
His life?
His golden eyes stayed locked with hers, and her shallow breaths only became shallower.
His life—his life—
Did he mean… a lifebond?
She gasped. “Veron…”
He couldn’t! Holy Mother’s mercy, a lifebond? Offering to share his life force with hers, to strengthen her, to weaken as she weakened, to die when she died?
He nodded to Xira, who held a bright, metallic little star, shaped like a crystal cluster.
“I’m a mortal,” she whispered. “You can’t—”
He kissed her hand. “It won’t make you Immortal. But together, we’ll have something more than a mortal life, and something less than an immortal one. That much I know.”
This was… She shook her head. “Veron, are you sure
—”
“I want to spend our lives together, Aless. Always together. Whether that’s a hundred years or a thousand, whatever the Deep, Darkness, and Holy Ulsinael allow. Please make me the happiest man alive and say yes.”
Say yes? Say yes to a lifetime shared with Veron, to years and decades and centuries in love, in joy, together? His sacrifice was enormous, and she wanted to argue, but as he held her gaze, pressed his lips to her hand, he gave her his answer.
“Yes,” she whispered, and when his smile broadened, so did hers. “I accept your Offering.”
A beaming Xira nodded to her.
It was time for her Offering. She’d planned to Offer him her knowledge, her boldness, and her ambition… but he had been right. Those weren’t the things they truly needed to Offer each other. “Veron, prince of Nightbloom, I, Alessandra Ermacora of Silen, offer you my love, my loyalty, and my life, too,” she said, threading her fingers through his, “to harness for your ends or ours, as we walk our lives together from this day forward for as long as the Deep allows.”
He held both her hands, and grinned. “I accept your Offering.”
Xira held out the small, bright metal cluster, and placed it between their palms. As they squeezed, there was a pinprick, and Xira held their hands between hers, chanted in Elvish, and when she finished—despite the pinprick, there was no mark, no blood.
“You are now lifebonded,” Xira said, “joined in life and death, able to sense each other, draw each other, call to each other.”
What that meant, she’d find out in the coming days, but as long as she got to be with Veron, the lifebond was perfect.
“What Offerings made and accepted today before the Deep, Darkness, and Holy Ulsinael, let no other pursue,” Xira declared to the guests. “We swear this by the Darkness.”
“By the Darkness,” the crowd murmured, and Veron’s lips met hers.
Chapter 29
After an evening of feasting, games, and dancing—for the humans in attendance—Veron opened the door to their quarters with a sigh of relief.
“So you’ll take me hunting tomorrow?” Aless asked, breezing past him as he shut the door. “I need more practice.”
“Perhaps not tomorrow,” he said with a smile. When she pursed her lips, he added, “The Stone Singers and stavbali are breaking ground on the library tomorrow. I think you’ll want to be there.”
“What?” She jumped into his arms, squealing. “Tomorrow? Veron, really? Tomorrow!”
“Yes, really,” he answered. “Tomorrow.”
Aless kissed his cheek once, then again, then his lips, then slowly claimed his mouth, her fingers raking up into his hair as she leaned into him, a soft moan humming in her throat.
“Hold that thought,” he murmured, although his body had different ideas. As she smiled mischievously, he cleared his throat and led her out of the antechamber and into the bedchamber, where on his table was his copy of A Modern History of Silen. “I know we already gave each other Offering gifts in Bellanzole, but I wanted to share this with you.” He held it out to her.
Her eyebrows rose as she took it, paging through it to get to the blank pages—only, some weren’t blank anymore. He’d filled in the details of their journey, sketched in drawings of, well, mostly her. Nearly all of them—well, if he were honest, all of them, her.
She traced a sketch of her in the duchess’s garden, surrounded by lavender and pixies, and gasped. “Veron, this is… This is stunning.”
He stepped in closer to her and brushed her voluminous dark tresses over her shoulder. “My father taught me, when we used to study sky realm flora and fauna together. I hadn’t drawn anything since he died.”
For a long time, he hadn’t wanted to do anything that had reminded him of Ata, and yet he’d become one of the volodari, just like him. The knot of pain Ata had left behind had untangled, faded, and he understood now. Understood what it meant to be ready to do anything—anything—for those he loved.
“It’s beautiful, Veron,” she whispered, and brushed his lips with hers. Smiling, she pulled away. “I’m not sure mine will mean as much…”
“You got me something?”
Her face bright, she rushed to one of her trunks, opened it, and pulled out a box. “You see, when I wrote to Bellanzole from Dun Mozg, I might have included a certain request to Lorenzo.” She handed him the ribbon-wrapped box.
Raising an eyebrow, he pulled the ribbon undone—some days, he did miss the ease of his claws—and opened the lid.
Inside lay a pair of boots—perfect, supple, well-oiled leather, buttery soft, and—
“Try them on!” she urged.
“You found time in a war to ask your brother for boots?” he asked with a laugh.
She nodded happily.
He did pull them on, and—Holy Ulsinael.
He walked a circuit in the bedchamber, shifted on his feet, crouched, jumped, all while Aless laughed.
“By Deep and Darkness, you laugh, my love, but these—these boots are the most comfortable I’ve ever—” He leaned back into the heel, but it was just… pillowy… and…
She covered her mouth as she giggled. “Lorenzo’s cobbler is born of a long line of cobblers, only he was born an enforcer, too. He uses his skills and his magic to make what Lorenzo calls ‘the shoes of the gods.’” She smirked.
“Holy Ulsinael, he’s not wrong, Aless. These boots are—they’re—” It was unthinkable, but he almost wanted to go on a hunt right now. Almost. But it would be some time yet before Mati would allow him back among the volodari.
“Oh! One more thing,” she said, clapping her hands together.
After making the Offering with Aless and lifebonding with her, if there was a thing in this realm that could make this day any better, he didn’t know it.
“Close your eyes.” Her dark gaze practically sparkled. What was she planning?
He did as she asked and then sank into the bed.
There were flitting footsteps, and the creaking of a hinge, more quick steps, rustling, and—
“All right. Open them.” Her voice brimmed, and he was laughing under his breath when he opened his eyes.
By Deep and Darkness, it was the sheer red thing. His laughter ceased instantly.
She leaned against the wall in that ethereal red nightdress from their wedding night in Bellanzole, and its folds of thin fabric teased shadows and planes beneath a crimson veil. It hung from her frame by thin, delicate straps, its sheer fabric pooling on the floor.
Her shoulders and her long, elegant arms were bare, so much of her soft, beautiful skin bared to him, and his fingers clutched the mattress as they longed to touch her. That night in Bellanzole, he’d been prepared to do his duty as ordered, and neither of them had been ready for it, not in the least, but this image of Aless in her sheer red nightgown had lingered in his memory, more and more in the past couple of weeks.
And here she was now, as if she’d stepped out of that night into this one, his brave, intelligent, beautiful wife, his love, his Aless.
By Deep and Darkness, he wanted to see her, every part of her, commit her to memory, and know her by the tip of a finger or the curve of a collarbone.
Biting her lip, she took slow steps to him, stood between his knees, stroked through his hair, over his shoulders, along his jaw, and he closed his arms around her, pulled her in and down to him as he moved deeper into bed. His hands found the smooth skin of her back as her lips met his, as her kiss deepened, as she breathed the same air, and he rolled her over, pinned her to the bed.
Gleaming dark eyes danced as she looked up at him, a smile playing on her lips. “What will you do to me, dark-elf prince?”
He huffed a soft breath. Oh, he had plenty of things in mind, but above all one. “Love you till the end of time, Aless. Till the end of time.”
Epilogue
The autumn wind gently rustled through the trees as Veron headed to the site of the library construction. Leaves of gold, red, and russet descended fro
m the sunlit canopy.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Although it wasn’t uncommon for him to visit Aless during the day, it was rare indeed when she went to the trouble of inviting him. By note, no less.
He nodded to his fellow stavbali—Mati still had him on building projects instead of back hunting with the volodari—and to the Stone Singers and inzenyri. It had been four months since the library announcement, and the exterior of the building was almost complete. The longest task had been hauling in the stone for the Stone Singers, and as strong as his people were, the stavbali weren’t omnipotent. He rotated his shoulder, as if he’d helped haul the stone just yesterday.
A sea of large white pavilion tents surrounded the construction, and beneath one were two ladies surrounded by children with quills and paper. Her blessedly dark hair dancing in the breeze, Aless removed one of her hands from her lavender cloak and waved at him before hiding her coy smile with a finger.
She spoke to Gabriella, then bid the children goodbye and trotted over to him while he jogged to meet her. Encircling her in his arms, he kissed her, allowing his fingers to slip through that silken hair of hers. Holy Ulsinael, he was a lucky man.
Pulling away, she smiled softly, her gleaming dark eyes searching his. Her smooth fingertips grazed his jaw, and her little smile widened. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I invited you here today?”
He huffed. “Surely you know by now I’d never question a blessing, my love?”
Her cheeks colored, and she nudged him with her shoulder before taking his hand. As they strolled toward the library, she rubbed the small of her back a little, and he replaced her hand with his.
“You work too hard,” he said. Since the start of the project, there had been nothing she hadn’t done, from trying to help haul the stone to attempting to build the furniture. She’d kept herself busy even before she’d organized school for the local children and anyone who wished to learn.
“I can’t help it,” she replied, but he already knew that. “When your dream comes true, you don’t rest on your laurels. This is only the first of many libraries, Veron.”
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