Page 44 of Heart Cradle
The words echoed like a thread pulled taut. Maeve inhaled sharply, bracing for a wave of anxiety and a glance passed between her and Eiran, silent but steady.
“It must be soon,” Orilan continued, his voice intense but not unkind. “And it must be a spectacle. One that will echo across all realms, to show that the gods have honoured Melrathen with a mate bond.”
No one spoke, not even Fenric. Eiran kept his face composed, but Maeve could feel the subtle tension opposite her, like something winding tight beneath his skin. She sat upright, expression calm, even as her mind traced the weight of it. A public ceremony, appearances, royal expectations.
Orilan softened slightly, his gaze flicking again to Maeve. “It would cement Maeve in our bloodline and our history. It would give the people clarity, certainty, and purpose.”
Eiran's voice came, quiet but resolute. “We’ll speak on it.”
Orilan nodded and took his seat.
As the room exhaled, conversation resumed, light and careful, like walking over new ice and Eiran leaned towards her, catching her gaze. “You’re not being marched to the altar, love,” he murmured, voice warm.
She smiled faintly. “I expect you’re desperate to be married.”
“I am,” he said, deadpan.
Her eyes narrowed playfully, trying to mask her rising anxiety. “You’d wear a bloody dress and veil if it got you a party.”
Eiran’s voice dipped lower. “I’d wear anything if it meant calling you mine in front of every soul breathing.”
She grasped the Chain on her wrist, willing it to ground her, to buoy her. Then a hand, warm, steady, resting lightly on her shoulder. Maeve turned her head and found herself staring into Taelin’s eyes. They were still sharp but softened by something like kindness. He leaned in, voice a low murmur meant only for her. “Mate bonds are extremely rare,” he said. “Fated by the gods themselves. Not chosen, or forced… simply found, and never to be again.”
Her heart thumped hard enough to hurt. She hadn’t even believed in fate three weeks ago, now it was sitting opposite her in fine leathers and magic, totally fucking gorgeous and watching her under soft light. Still, her mind spun, twisted, trapped between logic and longing. “It’s not something to ignore, Maeve. Not something to take lightly, nor something the godsgive twice.” Taelin added softly. “The binding is only a ceremonial factor, you’re already bound for life.”
Her eyes found Eiran across the table, his smile careful, gaze flickering constantly to hers as if he could feel every breath she took, maybe he could. Before she could respond, another voice joined the quiet moment, King Orilan, stepping beside Taelin with that quiet, commanding presence. “It is your choice,” he said gently, addressing them both. “Yours and Eiran’s. No one here will take it from you. Like Taelin said, you’re already bonded, this is just to show the public you.”
Maeve looked up at him, startled by the humanity in his eyes, by the way he nodded slightly, a king offering not command but choice.
“The ceremony, the celebration, all of that is politics. But the bond?” He looked between her and Eiran again. “That is sacred, that is just for you.”
She opened her mouth but couldn’t speak. Something pressed at the back of her throat, hot and unfamiliar. Gratitude, mixed with fear, awe and joy. Yes, beneath all of it, impossibly, joy. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even breathed properly in what felt like hours, but still, she willed him.
Come to me.She thought, desperate for the grounding weight of him.Please, Eiran…
As if summoned by her silent appeals, the very pull between them or by the humour of the gods Eiran rose silently from his seat and crossed the room to her. Not with urgency, not with expectation, but with certainty, as if he’d been waiting for her to need him.
He moved Orilan’s empty chair and knelt beside her, his hand finding hers without hesitation, warm and sure. Then he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “The binding ceremony is just extra. We are already mates, this is just a public recognition of it. Very much like a human wedding, lots of vows and appearances. The leaders of other realms visit, it’s a public day, but it could still be ours.”
His thumb brushed over her knuckles and her heart squeezed, full and aching. She looked down at him, the fae prince, the man who had knelt with crownless humility, who gave her space and control even as the magic between them tugged like a tide. She could feel the entire room waiting, a hush of breath held in collective suspense, yet this moment belonged to her, to him, to them.
Orilan’s voice rose again, gentle but firm. “The bond is already formed. The ceremony is yours to shape, no one here will demand more than you are ready to give.”
Maeve nodded slowly. “I understand.” She said, her voice not shaking.
Eiran’s hand tightened gently around hers, pride in his eyes. “You’re not worried?” he asked, quieter.
“I’m not panicking anymore,” she corrected. “That’s progress.”
He chuckled. “Massive progress.”
She leaned closer. “Ok, just tell me there’s cake involved, though.”
“She’s got the wit of an archmagi and the stomach of a warrior, she’ll fit right in!” Orilan laughed. “Bran, Tomorrow we begin preparations for a celebration worthy of the gods.”
He pulled Maeve up, wrapping one arm around her and the other around Eiran, with the sheer strength of someone who loved from his very core. “This, this is a moment the Fae Lands will never forget!” He turned, gesturing to the others. “One that shakes the mountains and dazzles the sea. Let every realm hear of it!”
Maeve laughed, breathless and dizzy, caught between joy and disbelief as the room erupted into applause and teasing cheers. Aeliana grinned across the table, eyes shining, Nolenne sent her a wink and even Taelin gave a cheered nod of approval. She half expected the room to shift dramatically, lightning, wind, something magical, but instead, it was Eiran who changed. He didn’t move right away. Just stared at her, his usually sharp, commanding features softened into something that looked suspiciously like awe and tears. The silence between the mates stretched, but it wasn’t awkward, it was full, deep with meaning and something just beneath the surface she couldn’t name.
