When they exit the tower, Jaylie leads Loren through the gardens, following the directions that Alora gave her earlier.Right at the pond with the water lilies, left at the daffodils, and then right again at the white roses—but the second bunch, not the first, all right? The ones next to the wind chimes.
Finally, they arrive at the curtain of pale purple wisteria that Alora described as the final turn. Gently, Jaylie pushes the flowersaside and steps into a small, enclosed space. Between the walls of greenery and the lattice of flowers hanging from above, there’s barely enough room for three people to stand shoulder to shoulder. Tucked into the center of the square space is a small smooth shrine: a stone bowl of water, an offering of honey and flowers, a mirror, and several lit candles. The shrine is dedicated to no god in particular, but the ritual materials are there, available for anyone who needs a moment to pray.
Alora and Shira stand before the shrine, and they both turn as Jaylie and Loren approach. Silver moonlight catches in the dark strands of Shira’s hair, newly cut and woven into a complex braid sprinkled with pale white flowers. She wears a black dress with embroidery of such a dark purple that it’s difficult to pick out the patterns. Alora wears none of the lace or frills that Jaylie had seen at her wedding with Donati. Instead, she’s fashioned tulle and silk into the shapes of flowers that flow down the back of her white skirt. Both women look at Jaylie with wide eyes, as if they’re two teenagers caught kissing in the garden hours after dark.
Jaylie smiles softly. “Are you ready?”
“I think so,” Shira says. Her tone is nervous and light, void of its usual deep, commanding growl.
“Yes.” Alora’s voice is so full of warmth that Jaylie’s heart aches just to hear it.
Shira asks, “What do we need to do?”
At Jaylie’s nod, Loren positions himself behind her and begins to pluck lightly at his lute. It’s a gentle song, and at first, Jaylie can barely pick out the melody. But as the song flows from his fingers—light and tender, soft and sweet—she breathes out a peaceful, happy sigh. Even Shira’s shoulders ease, falling from where they were hunched nervously at her ears. Alora’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears.
“Now,” Jaylie says quietly, “I will cast the ritual spell, and Loren will pay witness. But this promise you are about to make—it isbetween you two and no one else. We will not hear the vows you speak, but you will be bound to them nonetheless.” Hours before, when Jaylie had planned everything out with Alora and Shira, they had both stressed their desire for as private a ceremony as possible. None of the pomp, frills, or spectacle of Donati’s wedding—just the two of them and the love they shared, as it had been between them since the beginning. “Join hands, please,” Jaylie murmurs.
As Loren’s music swells, Jaylie removes a ribbon of coins from around her waist and begins to bind Shira’s and Alora’s hands together, palm to palm. With each loop of the ribbon, gold and pink magic swells from where their hands touch. A sphere of light blooms between the women, expanding until just the two of them are bound in a bubble of gold. The light catches on Shira’s jewelry and on the subtle pattern of dragon scales underneath Alora’s skin. Jaylie smiles, ties the knot across Alora’s knuckles, and nods.
Haltingly, Shira begins to speak, her eyes darting sidelong toward Jaylie and Loren. Jaylie watches her lips move, but she can hear nothing other than Loren’s playing, the tinkling of a far-off fountain, and the chirping of crickets in the distance. Shira’s eyes widen with realization, and when she turns back to Alora, her expression is earnest.
Jaylie cannot tell for how long they speak. Time passes strangely within the influence of the spell, and the small space feels charged with emotion and divinity. Slowly, Jaylie takes a few steps back until she stands at Loren’s side. She allows her head to fall onto his shoulder as he plays, though she never takes her gaze from the couple as they make their vows. Though Jaylie does not know what promises they make to each other, at the end, there is one phrase she recognizes as it flows from Alora’s lips.
I love you,she says.I love youandI love youandI love you.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
“You had me in tears, Sadie! It was so sweet!” Jules gushes.
I turn to look at her in the back seat, where she’s fanning at her eyes dramatically. Morgan is smiling, too, but she keeps her gaze on the road. Each member of the D&D group had offered to give me a ride to the airport Monday afternoon for my interview. I was unexpectedly touched, but I’d missed Morgan and Jules. Not to mention, a gossip-filled drive with them seemed the best way to distract myself from my complicated feelings about returning to the city.
“Remember, Itoldy’all Shira and Donati were never a thing.” Morgan slaps the steering wheel for emphasis. “Iknew.”
“And for Shira to whisk Alora away like that?” Jules swoons, her eyes full of stars.
“I loved the secret wedding, too, Sadie,” Morgan says with a sigh, her tone wistful. “When I first signed on to play this game, I never expected that it could be like this. I thought it’d be a lot of fighting and shenanigans, not…”
“Emotional character deaths, magic frogs, and heart-stopping romance?” I say helpfully.
“Exactly,” Morgan says, laughing. “I never realized D&D was going to be thisinvolved.”
“That’s the best part!” Jules says, dancing in her seat. After abeat of silence, she taps her fingers together mischievously. “Speaking of involved…”
“Oho.” Morgan catches on immediately. Her eyes flash sidelong to me. “How was that camping trip, Sadie? Was it as hot as we warned you it’d be?”
“Steamy, even?” Jules pokes.
“What was it like, pitching a tent for the first time?”
“Did you have enough wood for a fire?”
I groan loudly and cover my face with my hands, but my friends have my ribs aching with laughter in no time. Although I tease them with hints, arriving in the drop-off lane saves me from sharing too much detail. Jules and Morgan are sweet enough to not say goodbye as I stand on the curb. Jules rolls down her window and waves enthusiastically, setting her charm bracelets jingling. “Good luck, Sadie! We’ll see you soon!”
Morgan blows me a kiss. “Saturday morning, right?”
“Right at noon,” I say.
