But Aiko’s question made my gut tie itself up in even tighter knots than it already was. What if she’d tripped? Twisted one of her flimsy human ankles on the stairs, and that was why she did not come? Not because she’d chosen not to, but because she couldn’t. Had she eaten enough today? What if she’d gotten dizzy and collapsed? What if some unknown human ailment had suddenly struck her down, and I had no idea because she was mortal and I was not, and maybe I didn’t truly know her, maybe I’d never know her, know her in the deepest ways so I could give her what she needed.
What do you need, Torrance? Tell me what to do and I will do it.
I should have told her that in the bedroom. I should have fought harder, made my case, made her want to choose me. At the time, I’d not wanted to sway her answer. I’d not wanted to try to persuade her or pressure her. I’d made my offer, and I’d slayed every instinct inside me as I’d done it. Instincts that told me to force the ring onto her hand, to hold her against me so tightly she’d never be able to work herself free. I’d wanted to kiss her. She’d looked so perfect, and I’d wanted her so badly, wanted to burn the image of her in that dress into my memory so I’d remember it when I ripped it off her.
But I hadn’t done any of that. I’d simply said my piece and walked away in silence, even while I howled in my own head.
And now, I waited. And now, she did not come, and I knew I should have submitted to the howling, submitted to the instincts that told me to bind her as tightly to me as I could. I should have kept her trapped, should have never let her choose, because now she was choosing and she was choosing to leave.
To leave me.
She’d still be here on Sionnach. But she would not be mine. I hadn’t thoroughly considered that when I’d made her my offer. I hadn’t considered anything, really. But now I did. I thought about her living in this castle, untouchable and oh, so beautiful. She might even grow to love someone else, might not stay in this castle at all, and I would be the trapped one, then, in my towers of crystal, staring out at a world that no longer made sense.
I thought of all this, and agony rose in my throat. Agony I hadn’t known since the deaths of my parents and the day Rúnwebbe had told me of my fate.
Something inside me was cracking so loudly that the sound echoed in the room. I breathed heavily, staring down at my hands, wondering if my star map was finally going to vanish. There had to be an outward sign of how I felt, a physical manifestation of the darkness closing in.
The sound grew louder, longer, turning from a crack to a creak. I counted the stars on my palms until Aiko’s soft mutter of, “Oh! There she is,” made me tear my gaze away.
I swallowed hard, jaw working. The cracking and creaking wasn’t happening inside myself. It was Torrance, standing in the open doorway, pulling the door open even wider than it had been before.
I’d already seen her in her dress, but seeing her again, now, in light of the choice she’d made, walking towards me, wanting me, wanting me, I was struck speechless. I straightened. She looked a little different this time. There was a face covering of sorts, a veil of thin Sionnachan silk that largely obscured her features. Its edge brushed her bare collarbones, and I wanted to tear it away. To see how she looked. See if she looked...
Happy.
I lowered one of my hands, then extended the other to her. She was only halfway to me, but I could not wait for her to get here, already stretching to touch her, to make sure this was real.
It seemed to take forever for her to reach me, a disconcerting experience for an immortal who swallowed eons like breaths. But it did not matter. I had waited for her to come and now she had come. I could wait a few heartbeats longer. That’s what I’d promised her, after all. That I’d wait for her. For as long as it took.
Torrance finally reached me, her footsteps silent on the fur carpet. Her head dipped, her veil rustling against her creamy skin, as she looked at my hand.
She took it.
And I felt like I came back to life again. I closed my fingers and thumb over the back of her hand and tried to see her through the veil.
“Is that meant to stay on the entire time?” I asked her, my voice sounding nearly hoarse. “I want to see you.”
Torrance gave my hand a squeeze, then raised her other hand to pull back the veil, settling it in a shimmering wave over her hair.
There she is.
My little bride, my accomplice, my beloved. My snow-and-honey-eyed girl. Mine, mine, mine.
Her eyes glimmered with what appeared to be tears, but her face glowed with ethereal calm. Maybe even peace. It was the first time I’d ever seen her look so serene. Like she felt she was standing exactly where she was meant to be. It was not the look of a prisoner who’d crawled back into her cage.
It was the look of a woman who’d chosen freely, and who believed she’d made the right choice.
I drew her hand to my mouth, running my lips along her knuckles, noting the contrast of the cool crystal against her warm skin.
“You’re wearing the ring,” I said against the back of her hand. I could not bear to ask her if she liked it. Not yet, not now.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
Thank the cursed snows of Sionnach.
“But I don’t have a ring for you,” she added.
“I don’t need your ring,” I breathed. “Just your vow.”
I knew from Aiko that there were vows in a human ceremony, though I had no idea what the actual words were supposed to be. I tried to form sentences, but they turned to ash and dust in my head, burned away by the sheer relief of seeing her here. Of having her standing before me, lovelier than starlight, happy with her ring, her groom, her life.
Luckily, I did not need to find my own words. Because my bride shared hers.
“I, Torrance Hayes, take you, Wylfrael, to be my lawfully wedded husband. In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for as long as we both shall live.”
She gazed at me expectantly, and I repeated the words back to her.
“I, Wylfrael of stone sky and Sionnach, take you, Torrance Hayes, to be my my lawfully wedded wife. In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for as long as we both-” Torrance inhaled unsteadily, and my voice cracked, “-shall live.”
“I promise to love you.” Her voice had lost its solidity and a waver crept in.
“I promise to love you,” I echoed.
“I promise to cherish you.”
“I promise to cherish you.”
“From this day forward. ’Til death do us part.”
“From this day forward. ’Til death do us part,” I vowed. I could no longer stand there and merely hold her hand. I dropped her hand, my fingers rising to cup her delicate jaw. She sighed through a thick throat and turned her face up to me as I pressed my forehead to hers and closed my eyes. I found myself speaking, my own words finally forming out of the darkness. “For this day and all days. For this night and all nights. I will love you, Torrance. Every moment. Every breath. Every heartbeat. Even if it’s only half of one.”
No doubt Aiko and the others wondered what I meant by half a heartbeat. But it didn’t matter if they understood or not. Because Torrance did.
Her hands went to my waist, then slid upwards, palms resting against my chest.
“I promise you the same.”
We stood locked in the embrace, and everything else disappeared. There was only Torrance and me and the choices we’d made. Her face in my hands, her breath on my skin. Husband and wife. Perhaps not fated, but mated anyway.