Page 91 of D'Vaire or Nothing
In a long cloak of forest green dragonskin, Killian the Dwyer stalked to where Seltivare and Ashby stood. With a flourish, Killian opened a dark green ring box covered in dragonskin.
“On behalf of the Circle of Druids, please accept this ring as a token of our esteem for you and your mate,” Killian said. “Wear it with pride and know that our people are honored to have you represent us.”
Overwhelmed, Seltivare stood there helplessly.
“Allow me,” Ashby remarked. He dropped his hold on Seltivare’s hand, plucked the gilded ring from the box, and slipped it on Seltivare’s finger. “Welcome to the Circle of Druids.”
“I don’t suppose either of you could offer me a little gardening magic,” Seltivare whispered.
Killian flashed him a grin, and Seltivare swore the golden flecks in his eyes glowed a little brighter. “You don’t need magic, Selti. Follow my dragon’s example and you’ll do fine.”
“Thank you for the ring,” Seltivare managed. “I can’t wait to explore your garden.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll leave plenty of room for yours,” Killian replied with a wink and strode away.
“I like him,” Seltivare said.
“Me too, but it’s weird that he rarely wears shoes,” Aleksander commented.
“No, it’s not. Shoes are terrible,” Seltivare grumbled, then realized he’d just refuted a High King. “Oops.”
“Oops?” Ashby asked.
“Sorry, this is new to me, but I didn’t mean to be rude and contradict His Highness.”
“First, we don’t use titles at home, and second, speak your mind, Selti. We encourage that here. Unless it’s Dra’Kaedan.”
“I can hear you, Lankenstein,” the Grand Warlock groused.
Rafe narrowed his eyes slightly as he spoke again. “Elves were once fairies and bemollos on a Fae realm now lost to the world. However, Fae tradition lives on thanks to its remaining population and its rulers, Noble Protector Drekkoril and Valiant Defender Daravius. In their language, they don’t use the word mate. Their other half is av’airsell nioll. That translates directly toeternal soulin Fae’is, a gorgeous way to honor the person hand-selected for you by Fate orBétea. This evening, to honor Ashby and Selti’s sacred bond, Daravius and Drekkoril will present them with a gift crafted with their sorcery.”
Seltivare’s eyes widened as the two Fae rulers approached them with a tall statue of him and Ashby standing in a garden. The elf was ecstatic to immediately pick out the azaleas and sweet peas among the flowers.
“On behalf of the Fae, we offer you joy and happiness,” Daravius remarked as his black eyes with their swirls of silver landed on Seltivare’s face.
“Thank you so much, this is incredible,” Ashby said, which Seltivare appreciated. His own tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth as he stared at the beautiful present. Unfortunately for Seltivare, he couldn’t take in every detail.Drekkoril and Daravius returned to their seats with the statue. Seltivare supposed they’d get to admire it later.
“In elven culture, no matebond ceremony is complete without wreaths worn to show their families and friends they are ready to honor Fate and each other,” Aleksander said. “Tonight, Emperor Ellery Draconis of the tribe D’Vaire and Mavizare Tristis-D’Vaire will present Ashby and Selti with wreaths. At the request of Ashby, the flowers used are the lilies crafted by Killian the Dwyer and Drindyr Duke Dravyn D’Vairedraconis to represent the D’Vaire name. They symbolize Ashby’s family and match the hair and eyes of his new mate.”
Seltivare’s face flushed as Ashby smiled at him, but his blushes were soon forgotten as his twin and the enchanting dragon-elf Emperor approached them. Even in the low light of the fading sunlight, Emperor Ellery was breathtaking with his glittery skin, jade-and-gold eyes, and two-toned black-and-white hair.
But thankfully, Seltivare wasn’t gawking at him like Mavizare was as the pair approached with the floral wreaths. His brother’s stare was so intense that he just stood there and watched as Ellery placed the wreath on Ashby’s blond hair.
“Mavi,” Seltivare whispered.
“Huh?”
“Stop drooling and put the flowers on my head,” Seltivare hissed.
Mavizare grinned like an idiot but did as he was told. “I love it here.”
“Go away, Mavi.”
“Selti. Ashby. Will you please raise your right hands?” Rafe asked.
Seltivare rolled his shoulders and did as he was told. Their family had no athame. His parents had used one belonging to their ancient parents and hadn’t been able to take it withthem when they left their tribe. So, Madeline D’Vaire had crafted a beautiful dagger in the same blue and black as the flowers in Selti’s hair, and the blade was etched with sweet peas and azaleas.
Blodwen D’Vaire—who had helped create the idea of the sanctuary that had welcomed Ashby—carried the blade over and handed it to Seltivare’s mother. She cut Seltivare’s palm, which stung terribly, then passed the athame to Vateltir, who did the same to Ashby.
