Page 39 of The Grip of Death
And here it was happening at last to Alexander Wright, of all people, my close childhood friend, then my enemy, then my lover and my very best friend. I should have been pumped instead of nervous. I should have been exploding at the seams with excitement. I clenched my fists tight, trying to hold back my enthusiasm.
And then I caught my first look at Xander on the carpet, and suddenly I was holding back tears.
I tried to avoid looking directly at him at first. He was too beautiful, like staring into the sun, so radiant I was afraid I’d burn my eyes out. I examined his parents first, his loving escorts. That trip to Milan had definitely been worth it. Edric Wright cut a striking figure in his suit. Wilhelmina wore an emerald-green gown that seemed to be woven from thousands of little leaves, her hair styled up as pretty as a flower.
And then there was Xander.
Xander looked incredible in anything he wore — absolutely anything. You could throw the boy in a burlap sack with holes for the arms and he’d still be the sexiest person in the room. But in his wedding-day best? I would have given ravishing him on the carpet more than a passing thought if my heart wasn’t about to explode from fondness.
The black of his suit jacket and pants perfectly matched the black of his hair, and the same went with the white. The ivory tie and pocket square lent a touch of cream against the blushing bronze of his skin. Blushing more than usual, I would wager, because we were both so overcome with emotion.
His eyes sparkled with his barely contained joy, bright as gemstones, as shards of crystal. In the next few minutes, this utter dreamboat would become my husband, my partner, my lover until the end of our days. Gods above and below. I was the luckiest man alive.
We stared at each other across the garden like lovelorn school boys. I couldn’t decide if I was about to break into a nervous giggle or a wheezing sob. Both felt so inappropriate, and yet so completely correct. Somehow I held it together as his parents walked him down the aisle.
A single leaf fell from the branches above us, settling gently, perfectly among the locks of his hair, a little kiss from the Summer Court, a tiny flourish sent by the Verdance. In no time at all the Wrights had reached the dais. I felt so completely unprepared, like this was the very last thing in the world I could deal with right now.
And yet a single smile and a single longing look from Xander was all it took to give me the reassurance I needed.
I turned to the sound of hushed conversation, what I could only assume were murmurs of approval and whispered admiration from our guests. I locked eyes with King Oberon, sat in the front row with the ever-loyal Sparrowheart at his side. How generous of him to offer us this, of all things, when it was only a reminder of the tragedy that befell his own bond to Queen Titania. What a kindness he’d done us.
Seated behind him were various high fae nobles from the Summer Court, the lords and ladies of the land, and who was I to spoil their fun or risk their ire by denying them a chance for a long overdue party? A human wedding, too, curiosity of curiosities.
But seated next to the king in pride of place were our parents — the Wrights on one side, the Prydes on the other. Mom and Dad were only holograms, of course, wearing their best formal clothes, reconstructed and enhanced by the AIs, and projected by Whitby’s little crystalline body, which hovered slightly above their seats.
What an incredible gift that Lore and Whitby had prepared for me. They were only wavering ghosts, bluish imitations ofmy parents as they lived, but their presence felt so very real. Octavian clenched his fist and pumped it in the air. Luciana beamed with pride.
The dam very nearly broke.
I truly couldn’t believe that I’d managed to hold it together this far into the ceremony. My body was a trembling vessel so close to overflowing with love and happiness and tears. One little nudge and I would spill over. I gazed at Xander, my heart aching and heavy and full. I knew he would catch me, every last bit of me. I couldn’t wait to pull him into my arms, seal this all with a kiss, and make it forever.
“Dearly beloved,” Lore began, and yet again I had to carefully control my breathing to hold it all in as the rest of his words washed over me and rolled off my skin.
“Dearly beloved,” he’d said, an entity handcrafted by artificers, then bestowed intelligence and sentience. Emotions were never supposed to be a part of the package, and yet both Lore and Whitby had proven beyond doubt that they were capable of feeling for others, of acts of kindness and love.
This was the legacy of my parents, and this was exactly what I wanted to carry forward in the rest of my life with Xander, with all of our friends. I was surrounded by love. I was so, so fucking lucky.
I sniffled, scratching the corner of my eye and pretending I wasn’t just checking for tears. Niko wrinkled his nose in distaste. I could hear his thoughts as he grimaced. “Big, hairy baby.” I stifled a small laugh, grateful that it wasn’t tears that needed stifling. Niko leaned over to Sedgewick, very softly but very obviously whispering the words, “Jack is losing it.”
“Who’s losing it?” Beatrice hissed, quiet enough that she wouldn’t interrupt Lore, but with enough expression to look a little pissed. Preston took the tiniest step closer to see what was up, the shifting weight of his muscular body causing theplatform to creak. Reza craned his neck and glowered, his glare shooting sparks at the other groom’s party.
And out of nowhere the words came.
“Love you, Jack,” Xander murmured so softly, so sweetly, picking up on everything zinging through the air between all of us. I smiled broadly at him, mouthing the words back.
Lore cleared his throat. We shuffled our feet and straightened our backs, each trying our best not to look like the most inattentive student in class. Me and my fiancé and my friends, just a bunch of chaotic misfits who happened to be well-dressed for one day. It was perfect. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“And so we have come to witness the union of this rarest of pairs,” Lore continued, “an accomplished artificer and an academic of the arcane.”
Soft whispers and nods of agreement from the wedding guests. I bet they didn’t know that an artificer’s intelligence could be so well spoken. Or so long winded. Or so fond of alliteration, for that matter.
“Brilliant Xander may have his sharp tongue and his sharp wit, but all his blades and points are as melted chocolate and warmed honey when it comes to his beloved Jackson. And our dear Jackson may be rough around the edges, so strong and tough on the outside, but as soft as a marshmallow on the inside. A heart of nougat, some might say.”
Chuckles and polite laughter this time. Lore hadn’t been a member of Mother Dough for even a few months and already with all the dessert jokes.
“Indeed, for all their differences, what these two have in common is all that matters in the world: love. So hard and craggy they may be on the outside, but so pliant and soft on the inside.”
Another murmur of approval from the wedding guests. The vows. Yes. Any minute now.
