Page 83 of Jailer to the Death God
“Wave with your left hand,” I tell Arawn. “Show them the ribbons.”
“When do we take them off?” he asks.
“Tonight. It’s customary to wear them for a full day after the wedding.”
He lifts his left hand, the one with the ribbons wound around his thick, strong fingers. I could look at that hand for days.
The crowds are practically screaming now, wild with hectic joy. They needed this. Needed something to celebrate, after months of despair and death. And their adulation of Arawn makes me happier than I’ve been in a long time.
His eyes meet mine, and he touches his chest wonderingly. “I can feel it,” he says. “Their worship, fueling my power. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
“Does it lessen the pain of the chains?”
“Somewhat, yes. But it’s deeper than that.” He shakes his head, a puzzled, pleased expression on his handsome face.
“You need to return to Annwn tomorrow,” I tell him, while I wave and smile at a cluster of white-haired children. “You need to check on the souls who have passed while we were away. I hate to think of Macha tormenting them.”
“Once they pass through the Furnace, they have their unliving bodies and their assigned place in Annwn,” Arawn says. “She can’t touch them after that. But she can prevent souls from going into the Furnace, thereby causing them distress. I will go tomorrow, as you say, and ensure that the souls find peace.”
“Thank you.”
“I was planning to go anyway.” A faint flush colors his high cheekbones. “To get your wedding gift.”
“My—wedding gift?” I blink at him.
“Is it not customary for humans to exchange such gifts after they are married?”
“It is, but I did not expect anything. I have nothing to give you in return.”
“I need nothing but your existence.”
My own cheeks heat at those words, delivered so simply and sincerely.
We’re approaching the palace, and my stomach twists at the thought of facing the Council. They will already be gathered, of course, since they planned to intercept me as soon as I arrived and hurry me off to marry Venniroth. By now they will know that I’m already married.
“You’re chewing your cheek again,” says Arawn, hooking an eyebrow at me.
“I need to deal with the Council when we reach the palace.”
“Not alone.”
“No.” I reach over and take his hand. “Not alone.”
He weaves his fingers between mine. “This feels good.”
“It does.”
“Things like this feed love instead of starving it.”
I squirm. “Well… yes.” I start to pull away, but he tightens his grip.
“We have a year in which to break this bond,” he says, a faint desperation in his voice. “Grant me the indulgence of loving you a little while longer.”
My heart tugs toward his, and I lean forward in the carriage, while he bends to meet me. Our lips seal softly, and the kiss slides along my throat like warm honey, drips through my veins, saturates my bones with an incandescent joy.
Through the carriage windows, the onlookers outside see us kissing and erupt into cheers.
In the palace courtyard, an assembly of guards and servants greet us with more cheers and applause. Hessie dances forward and hands me a bouquet of winterbloom, while Tilda advances sedately with one of my crowns nestled on a velvet pillow. She fixes it in place for me, whispering, “I thought you would want it, before you meet with the Council.”
