“You’re tender with him when you think I’m not looking.” I smirk, stroking his chest. “What will our child look like? Will it have shorter ears? Whose eyes will it have?” I ask, swept away by this idea. When I look up, I spot Kyran’s eyes glossing over, but I won’t tease him about it. He shouldn’t be afraid to get emotional around me. I will always be his home, the safe space where he can be himself, not the Lord of the Nocturne Court.
“Ourchild will be an elf, like me,” Kyran whispers, leaning in until our noses touch and I sense the warmth of his breath on my lips. “But I hope he’ll be as bright and beautiful as you.”
I kiss him, overcome by a tenderness I never imagined possible. I only ever envisioned falling in love as missing someone, being obsessive, wanting to fuck them all the time. But while that’s true when it comes to Kyran, I’ve also awakened to something deeper. A care for him that isn’t about how hot he is, or what he gives me. My love for him isn’t selfish, about the way he makesmefeel. I want what’s best for him, I want him to feel good, and appreciate him for who he is.
“And we will take care of them. Even if they’re twins,” I laugh but also keep my voice down, because even saying that out loud feels dangerous.
A flurry of emotions passes over Kyran’s face. Joy, gratitude, love, are all there, but so is a great sadness, as if he's questioning why his own parents never cared for him enough. But then he pulls me into his lap, to Flap’s loud complaints, and I squeeze him back. Whatever happens, we will do everything in our power to make one another happy.
Chapter 38
Luke
Ihave a strange sense of déjà vu when I walk down the corridor with Reiner following me. This time though, Kyran is at my side, because we’re not hastily getting married. No, we’re holding a grand ball before the ceremony.
Kyran wanted tonight to be a surprise, and while I had much more input on my wedding outfit choice this time, I don’t know what else will happen. Kyran even ties a silk scarf over my eyes as he leads me by the hand.
Reiner trails behind us, adjusting my clothes every now and then, as if he didn’t add the“final touches”an hour ago by presenting me with shimmering green pauldrons made of hundreds of beetle wings and pearls. I don’t complain though, because he is a master of his craft when it comes to fashion. He looked both nervous and happy when sharing his ideas with me throughout the month. In a rare, unguarded moment, he admitted the wedding ensemble is always a crowning jewel when it comes to his creations, especially because it is always portrayed for posterity. He showed me his past designs with so much pride.
“It’s such a shame the silver rib cage got lost in the sea,” he huffs, but I know it’s a dig at me.
Excuse mefor almost drowning when I could have been diving to save a glorified anchor.
Just like last time, I was happy to go with what is apparently a traditional theme for a prince’s Dark Companion—the moth. It’s represented with a delicate cape attached at the nape and wrists. I’ve learned the ceremony starts in darkness, with only the prince orprincess holding a candle in their hands. The symbolism is lost on me, but it’s definitely like a moth to the flame, something, something.
Which, okay, maybe is a bit romantic, but also a little cringe when performed in front of so many people I don’t know.
I’ve grown to like lace and semi-transparent fabrics for shirts. I love that my nipples distract Kyran when I wear them, so I couldn’t deny myself the pleasure on our wedding day. The black lace top clings to my skin, and the embroidery depicts countless insect eyes. It doesn’t end at the cuffs and instead seamlessly turns into gloves. Thanks to the fabric being so delicate, my black nail polish stands out underneath. Reiner did in fact learn to apply it.
All this finery is paired with leather breeches in the same iridescent colors as the beetle pauldrons, and my heart is so light I feel as though I could buzz and fly up to the ceiling like the fashionable insect I’ve turned into. Though the amount of jewelry I’m wearing would probably cause a crash-landing.
My fingers are adorned with beetle wing rings, a silver tiara with a play on moth antennae is attached to my soft waves, and even my elegant boots have silver buckles dripping with pearls.
I’m the world's most elegant moth, a prized gothic bird, and my prince’s pet. I have never before been so proud, despite having no idea where I’m going. I trust Kyran to take care of me and take note of the gentle way he leads me across the floor, which taps under our feet as if it were made of crystal. He smells of darkness, sea salt, and that discreet flower undertone I’ve learned is lily of the abyss, a plant that only grows underground, fed not by moonlight but the illumination of phosphorus mushrooms. Each breath I take makes me feel safer, because this will be the first day of my new life, and I cannot wait to spend eternity with him.
My eyes tingle, and my throat aches with emotion, but Kyran’s as confident as ever, and as the doors swing open ahead, sending a wave of cool air in my face, I squeeze his hand. The room is silent as we enter, but the presence of others is obvious in the scent of perfume and the whisper of breathing around us.
I’m baffled by the scent of a familiar food but don’t question it and hold on to my fiancé’s hand when two rocks strike together, and I can smell burning wax.
It is starting.
I will get married by the end of this ball.
It still feels unreal.
When gentle hands remove my blindfold, the room around us is too dark to see anything beyond the silhouettes of the courtiers bathed in the red glow coming through a skylight above. The sight of the Blood Moon takes my breath away, but when Kyran brings a candle closer to my face and our eyes meet, everything but him is forgotten.
“Let me lead you through the dark,” he says, and I can’t stop the shiver running down my body when his low, sexy voice curls in my ear.
I nod and blow out the candle as I’ve been instructed. At once, the ballroom reveals itself to us with hundreds of lights, and the gathered crowd claps, dazzling me with the sparkle reflecting off their outfits.
Servants rush to pull apart heavy velvet curtains and let in more blood-soaked moonlight. By the walls, large tables are piled to the brim with platters still hiding their contents under silver domes, and yet more staff starts coursing between the guests, serving them crystal chalices filled with a white liquid.
Kyran smiles at me, and he couldn’t have been more handsome if he asked a witch to charm him. His skin is like pink alabaster. He is majesty, ethereal nobility, and my forever prince. From the high cheekbones and silky dark hair to the smoky gaze that pierces my soul, Kyran makes me lose all my snark, instead giving me ideas for sappy poems to describe his beauty. I could learn about metaphors and similes for eons and still remain unable to give him justice.
Caressed by the crimson illumination, he is carved from the night itself. His high-collared cloak absorbs the light on the outside, yet its satin lining shimmers with silver embroidery of thorns and roses. There is a simple elegance to his outfit. It has a double-breasted jacket shining with carved buttons, and the sword attached to his belt makes him look like a general. It’s only fitting, since Kyran commands shadows as if they are his soldiers. But it’s the crown adorning his head that reminds everyone he is their sovereign.
Woven of dark silver, its band resembles seaweed, and simple antlers grow out of it, bejeweled with blue and green stones. A symbolic reminder that he is master of both the forest and the sea.
