Page 105 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
Aidan’s chest rises and falls faster as he unfurls his fingers, his hands trembling slightly. The impossible, seductive fantasy of us standing together in much the same way atourwedding takes a life of its own. His amber irises thin, the black fire burning behind them all-consuming, starving for more than justone morenight.
I would gladly forget my tainted Sea Fae blood, my humble past, and all matters of logic if it meant I could claim Aidan as my own forever. I’d cut myself deep and never look back. From the dark, hungry gaze he gives me, I know he’s contemplating the same thing.
Chapter 32
Consummation
SONGBIRD
The marital bed is set squarely in the middle of the ballroom, two layers of fabric separating the newlyweds from the guests’ avid curiosity. The semi-translucent tarps cast shadows for their benefit, but Mabel, Aidan, and I are meant to stay between the two tarps until consummation is confirmed.
Contrary to yesterday’s stuffy, ceremonial dinner, the wedding party is loud and scandalous, cider and Feyfire wine flowing as the guests revel in the thrill of witnessing something usually kept private.
Without consummation, the magic that is meant to bind their powers forever would fizzle away come midnight, so these traditions are meant to insure the validity of their union.
“Words can be spoken in vain, so actions must always follow promises. The union of your bodies will ensure the gods of your commitment to each other. May their blessing seal your marriage forever.” Mabel says, motioning the newlyweds beyond the second tarp. “For better or worse.”
The old woman brushes the long black feathers of her masquerade mask. We’re all wearing one, save for the newlyweds, but the mask gives the white-haired witch a mysterious flair.
Ezra squeezes her frail arm. “Thank you, Grandmother.”
Something passes between them. “I will say this to you, just as I’ve said it to all the young people I’ve married. Marriage is a long, permanent affair for us Fae.Until deathcan’t be cheated by waning affections or grander passions, for your magics will be irrevocably linked. This is your last chance to turn back.”
Willow frowns at that. “Do people actually change their minds at the last minute?”
The corners of Mabel’s eyes wrinkle. “More than you’d think.”
Will grasps Ezra’s hand in hers with more confidence than expected. “We’re ready, I think.”
Mabel nods. “Then with your kindreds as witnesses, you will now share blood and magic, just as the gods intended.”
Willow meets my gaze, and I give her a small smile, trying to push past the discomfort in my stomach. “You’ve got this,” I whisper.
They slide between the two diaphanous seams. Ezra tips Willow’s chin up and bends down to kiss her, a kiss that holds all the heat the one they shared after their vows lacked. Willow gasps, apparently swept away by the moment. The crowd goes wild as Ezra expertly tugs at the threads of her corset, unfastening the crisscrosses one by one, and Willow slips off his cloak.
I angle my gaze away as the heavy skirt of her dress falls at her feet.
“You’re beautiful, flame of my heart,” Ezra says warmly, cupping her cheek.
Willow steps out of her dress, her voice brimming with unshed tears, but also a hint of her usual sass. “And you’re the most attractive man on this continent.”
It’s objectively true, of course.
Here we go.
The ritual is a hundred times worse than watching a couple from far away, as we do in Wintermere. Moreover, the sinful fascination of watching others in such a vulnerable state fades when you know them well enough to understand how fucking terrified they really are.
“Close your eyes,” Ezra whispers to his bride, the words barely audible. “Don’t think. Just feel.” He guides her toward the mattress and climbs on top of her, still almost fully clothed.
“I think two witnesses is enough, eh, lovebirds?” Mabel says, stealing my focus away from the scene beyond the tarp. “I’ll give you some privacy.” She slips between the tarps to rejoin the party with a knowing smile.
Aidan reaches for my hand now that we’re alone, holding on tight.
“When Will asked me to be her kindred witness, and I accepted, I don’t think either of us thought it all the way through,” I whisper.
“You think?” Aidan answers with his eyes screwed shut.
I try to concentrate on the mural of the Fall of the Mist King sprawled above our heads, but Willow’s breathless moans slowly grow into a high-pitched choir.
