Her hand rises to cup my face, and the comfort of her touch is everything. “You have me,” she whispers. “And you can have all the other things too, because I want them just as much as you do.”
Before I can say more, the herald clears his throat from the ballroom doors, reminding us both where we are.
Eira rolls her eyes, and she laughs in that glorious way that only she can, and it’s a sound full of brightness and all things pretty and sweet and sunshiney. “So let’s go get me a big, giant gemstone, shall we?”
I laugh, and together we turn toward the ballroom doors. But before we step inside, I feel her tug gently on my hand, stopping me for one last moment. She gazes up at me, her eyes bright, unguarded.
“Rylan,” she murmurs softly, “if there was nothing else, nobody else in the world but you, I’d be perfectly happy too.”
My chest tightens as I lean down to brush a kiss against her temple, savouring this last quiet moment with her.
“You ready?” she asks, as if everyone gathered here isn’t here for her.
“To have you by my side? I’ve been ready longer than you can even imagine,mea valora.”
The doors sweep open with a grandflourish, and the herald’s voice rings out, announcing our entrance. I lead her forward through the parted crowd, her arm in mine. As we reach the dais, my father descends the throne, in his, as Mathis had called it, sparkly tiara. Gods, does he never tire of all the pompousness of being king? He stops when he arrives next to Eirabella, something dark and shadowy lurking in his expression, as it always does. He raises his eyebrows at me, but I don’t move, not wanting to leave her side. Not wanting to leave her with him.
My father’s voice booms out, carrying to every corner of the hall. “As Celestaris, I understand you’re thrilled to finally have a full Essensari Council, Prince Rylan.” There’s a mocking tone in his voice, but it takes my ears to hear it, ears long accustomed to being ridiculed. “But perhaps you can let go of your disciple now so she may be properly bound as Aquilith?”
The crowd’s laughter ripples through the room, and I force a polite smile, though a simmering irritation rises in me. My father knows exactly how to charm them, how to bend their gaze to his will. And they never see the truth beneath the surface. I step back with a respectful nod, not wanting to make a scene on Eira’s special day. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
Eirabella faces him, shoulders squared, her focus sharp, fearless. The master of ceremonies steps forward on my father’s cue, a square white velvet box in his hands. He opens it, revealing the Aquilith stone—a brilliant blue diamond that seems to pulse with life, casting glints of light across the hall. It’s been polished since it left my possession this morning.
The master’s voice fills the hall, his words rich with tradition and reverence. “Eirabella Kaye of Larilea,” he calls, each syllable pronounced with solemnity. “You stand here before us as Aquilith, bearer of Celador’s strength and shield of its people. Do you vow to serve this realm, to defend its people with every ounce of strength, loyalty, and courage within you?”
Eirabella stands tall, her gaze unwavering as she meets his eyes. “I do.”
His tone grows deeper, reverent. “Do you pledge to face whatever may come, to sacrifice all comforts and personal desires, to place the safety and honour of Celador before your own?”
She hesitates for the briefest moment, then lifts her chin, her voice steady. “I do.”
A soft murmur spreads through the crowd, a sense of awe rippling outward as Eirabella’s conviction rings out. The master of ceremonies gives a solemn nod and takes the stone from the box, holding it aloft in his gloved hands. A hush falls over the room, every gaze fixed on the Aquilith stone as it begins to glow, casting waves of blue light across the hall.
“Then let the Aquilith stone find its place, binding you to the council, to this land, and to its people.”
I hold my breath, flashbacks of my own Emberon ceremony coming back to me, as the stone starts to brighten, the air rippling with the pulse of magic. Light explodes outward from the heart of the stone, bathing the room in a pure white light so intense that everyone shields their eyes. Everyone but me. I can’t. I refuse to. I want to absorb every moment of Eirabella’s binding ceremony. I watch, fascinated, as the stone splits in two, and binds, one half on each of her shoulders, its energy wrapping around her like a misty mantle, her own expression a mix of awe and sanctification.
The master of ceremonies gestures for me to join her. I step forward, reaching for her hand, feeling the steady warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips. Giving it a squeeze, I feel the magic tremoring through her skin.
My voice is low as it carries through the silence. “With the strength of the essences and the unity of the Essensari,” I start to recite the ritual’s words, “I welcome you, Eirabella, Keeper ofWater, as our Aquilith. May your spirit be as enduring as the tides, your resolve as unyielding as stone, and your heart as fierce as fire. Stand with us as a guardian of Celador, bound by honour and duty, to protect, to guide, and to serve. Together, we vow to safeguard this realm, to face every darkness, and to uphold the legacy entrusted to us. May you forever carry your Morath-given strength within you.” I look at her, my heart in my throat, and she gives me a quiet nod, her trust written plainly in her eyes.
The other Keepers gather around us, forming a perfect circle. Together, we raise our voices, the words of our oath echoing through the hall, binding us to her as she is now bound to us. Magic surges around us, a swirling rainbow of light emanating from our Keeper stones and connecting each of us to her Aquilith stone. Eirabella’s eyes widen as the light weaves between us, a shared energy, a bond stronger than any substance in the realm. The glow slowly fades, but she stands with a renewed strength and purpose, the Aquilith stone pulsing in her shoulders. She’s a part of us now.
And I realise, with startling clarity, that I’ll protect her with every last breath in my lungs.
I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, my voice thick with emotion. “There’s no one I’d rather have at my side to protect Celador,” I say for her ears only.
Her gaze holds mine, and I feel the words I’ve been holding back pressing forward.
I reach into my pocket, fingers brushing the box, when—
The doors of the throne room slam open.
A collective gasp sweeps through the hall, every face turning toward the entrance. Murmurs rise as a woman strides into the room, each step purposeful, commanding. She’s dressed in a black leather dress, the colour absorbing any lightthat dares shine her way, her long white hair cascading down her back. The four guards bracketing her sides are grim and silent, only adding to the suspense.
I blink, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing.
Every gaze is locked on her, whispers spreading like wildfire as she moves further into the hall, her focus set on me, a knowing smile lifting her lips. With an elegance that borders on mockery, she drops in front of me into a low, perfect curtsy. Gasps rise around me, from my sisters, my cousin, some of the ladies-in-waiting, but I can’t process any of it. When she rises, her silver eyes gleam as they meet mine.
