Page 156 of Westin

I swallow, mouth dry. In the distance, cicadas buzz. The cattle low in the fields as they search for shade before the sun blisters the earth.

Sovereign glances me over, eyes sober. “Are you ready?”

I hesitate.

“Sovereign, what is Westin doing?” It comes out in a rush.

He cocks his head. “He’s planning on marrying you—if you’ll get up there and do it.”

I shake my head. “No, he’s going to do something. I hope it’s not today.”

Sovereign doesn’t have an expressive face, but as soon as I say it, I know I’m right. There’s a flicker in his stare. Then, he blinks, and his eyes go back to being ice.

“I’ve known Westin almost my whole life,” he says. “You can trust him.”

I nod, swallowing. “I know,” I whisper.

He holds out his arm. I take it, and he leads me down the little hill and under the trees into the shaded, green grove. We pause, and the violinist to our left begins playing softly. My throat catches as I recognize the melody. It’s the hymn my grandmother used to hum to put me to sleep.

My heart clears. My anxiety vanishes, leaving me with nothing but warm, summer sunshine.

Like the day he walked into my life.

I look up to find him standing there, dressed in his good pants and vest, shirt rolled up to his forearms, exposing all those barbed wire scars. The sun glints off his chestnut hair, making his eyes glitter like deep water. He’s got a scratch on his cheek and two Band-Aids on his forearm.

Oh God, what did he do now?

There’s nothing to do about that now, though. I’m walking up the aisle, and everyone is silent, watching me. Maybe they wonder because we don’t look like we should be together.

He’s hard, I’m soft.

I’m twenty-two, he’s thirty-eight.

I’ve only ever wanted to live. He’s in the business of killing.

But all they need to do is look at the way he’s watching me to know, by some trick of fate, that this is meant to be.

Sovereign guides me to the front until I stand before Westin. He shakes his hand like he barely knows him, but then Westin leans in, and they say something to each other, their voices too low to hear. Whatever it is, they exchange a glance that lets me know it meant something before pulling back.

Sovereign takes my fingertips and hands me over to Westin. His hazel eyes catch mine, bright as the day we met. I smile and my mouth shakes.

Gently, he turns us to face the preacher. He stands before us in his starched black shirt and pants, rifling through his book. His glasses stick out of his breast pocket, and it takes a minute for him to find them.

He doesn’t know my name, and Westin has to whisper it to him. I look sideways at Westin as we recite our vows, but he stares resolutely ahead.

He forgot to book the preacher. I know a rush job when I see one.

I’m exasperated, but just for a fleeting moment. Then, everything fades, because nothing but Westin matters anymore. The past rushes away, like the current of the river where he first kissed me, carried away like silt after heavy rain.

Tomorrow, the world will be right.

I know because he promised it would be.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

WESTIN

Keira and Diane tasked Sovereign and I with getting a preacher for the ceremony. In the excitement of our other plans, we all forgot. I was up in the hills, making sure everything was ready at the edge of the ravine. Sovereign was getting my mother from the city. Jensen was in the blacksmith shop, taking inventory of the weapons. Deacon was bringing in the horses from the pasture.

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