“I will have your answer now,” Abyssian said. “I understand you’ll be giving up certain . . . things to live here. But through your actions, Sylvan will be spared for an eternity of eternities.” The exact phrase Nïx had used. Realization struck. This had all played out according to the Valkyrie’s plan. That bitch. I was a pawn to save Sylvan, in ways I never even suspected. Had Saetth been in on the plan? She’d questioned why her fiancé wouldn’t simply order her assassination; maybe because he’d known she needed to be alive for this sacrifice? “Fine. I’ll do it.” Abyssian exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath. “Very good. Just so we understand each other: as my wife, you’ll serve me in every way, doing my bidding.” Frustrations that had compounded all her life boiled to the surface. She met Abyssian’s gaze. “I hate you.” In a lover’s voice, he said, “And I you. That’s why our marriage will work. Neither of us will expect anything more than pleasure between us.” Expediency was key. Fearing Calliope would back out from their agreement, Sian hadn’t even given her a chance to change her clothing for the wedding. He’d hastily teleported her into his empty court, appearing in front of the throne dais for the simple hand-fasting ceremony. Her pupils had dilated to the size of coins. Part of him was just as shocked. She agreed to wed me? Her decision made him grudgingly respect her more. Like Kari, Calliope was nothing if not loyal. The marriage rite was straightforward. He would wrap a sacred tie of leather made from the hide of the last Lôtān around their clasped hands as they repeated vows. He asked her, “Are you ready?” He’d told her what she would say, a basic pledge of self. She hesitated, then nodded. Curling his finger under her chin, he lifted her face. Brows drawn, she bit her bottom lip. What he wouldn’t give to know her thoughts now. As he gazed down at her, the millennia faded away until he felt as if he’d held her in his arms just yesterday at a dance in Sylvan. “What are you contemplating, Calliope?” he asked, though he suspected she’d never answer. She surprised him by saying, “How I will live without everything I’m giving up.” The idea of her pining for her fiancé sent Sian’s jealousy skyrocketing. “You’ll simply have to find other things to satisfy you.” He would make her forget that prick if it killed him. “I won’t hold my breath.” Gesturing at her filthy dress, she said, “Not exactly how I imagined my wedding. But this is just how I would imagine yours.” He supposed young females cared about such things. “Perhaps if you please me as a wife, I will grant you a more formal coronation.” “Be still, my beating heart. You’re really sweeping me off my feet, demon.” Undaunted, he conjured the Lôtān tie, then took her hand. As he wrapped the binding around his wrist, then hers, Calliope’s gaze rested on his long claws. Their hands looked as mismatched as the rest of their bodies. Yet fate said she was the only female with whom he could feel complete. When he retracted his claws, her attention shifted to his wings, then to his fangs, then his horns. His mate was sizing him up, no doubt wondering how they would be together sexually. Her behavior struck him as heartening. The real problem would be if she refused to look at him at all. He’d asked himself what Goürlav had been thinking to imagine a future with a beauty. Wouldn’t Goürlav ask him the same? Sian didn’t care. For lifetimes, he’d dreamed about what could have been with this female. For better or for worse, he had to know.
TWENTY-NINE