Page 123 of Alien God

I found several pieces of silver and purple crystal that were admirably clear. I thought of making rings out of each, and seeing if either one of them suited.

But then it hit me – the reason the other rings had not appealed. It was because they were too simple. Each one crafted from only one tree, shining in only one colour.

If there was anything my bride wasn’t, it was simple. Winter and warmth, love and hate, fire and fury and softness and need. Weakness and strength. Lies and masks and truth. If I wanted to represent her and represent our union – Earth and Sionnach, human and stone sky – then I could not simply use a single shard.

Invigorated, I began again, drawing out piece after piece of crystal. I shattered them with my power, picking out tiny, shimmering shards until I had a glittering pile of purple, pink, silver, and green.

I worked all night, designing and moulding and refining. It felt good to throw myself into the task and let my mind go blank. Otherwise, I’d be left to my own thoughts. Thoughts about the vast and sprawling ecstasy of being inside her eclipsed only by how much I’d loved holding her, and then the striking pain of when she’d pulled away.

I was not supposed to feel pain when I thought of my fake bride.

I was supposed to feel nothing at all.

It occurred to me, as I held the ring up to the light, running my appraising gaze over it like a blade over a sharpening stone, that I had not felt grief about losing a chance with my real fated mate in quite some time. Torrance had taken over, fully invaded my life the way her people had invaded my world, so much so that even my pain was solely focused on her now. I thought of my fated mate, tried to imagine who she might be, and attempted to conjure the feelings I’d had when I’d first heard Rúnwebbe’s prophecy.

I couldn’t. I couldn’t reach back into that sorrow and rage. Couldn’t access it or make myself feel it. There was a numbing sort of dread, the feeling that my life had been knocked awfully off course, but I no longer mourned my real bride or my lost future with her. My fated mate was a faceless ghost to me now, but my false bride was here, real, beautiful and infuriating and mortal, so terrifyingly mortal that I wanted to hollow myself out and put her inside me if only it would protect her. I may have called her my liar, but this wasn’t a lie to me. Not anymore. At some point, my prisoner had become my partner, not just an ally but someone precious, someone beloved, Sionnach preserve me, save me, save me.

“My lord?”

I whirled, finding Aiko standing in the doorway. Late morning light I’d barely noticed seeped in through the room’s outer green wall.

“Yes?” I asked, my voice sounding harsh and croaking.

“Your wedding suit is ready.”

My spine straightened, my chin rising, as if I’d been called to battle. I curled the ring into my hand.

“Good. Let me see it.”

I followed Aiko out of the workshop and into the room where she completed the laundry and sewing. On a crystal table, laid flat, was the outfit she’d created for me. My Mistress of Affairs had seemed surprised, some days ago, when I’d asked her to find out from Torrance what human grooms wore to their weddings. I’d been a little surprised at myself, in all honesty. Surprised that I would stoop to the level of wearing what a pathetic human male might wear. But when I’d imagined Torrance’s face, her surprise and maybe even delight at the gesture, I’d found that my usual leather ensembles held no appeal.

I could not deny it. I wanted my bride to be happy when she saw me at our wedding.

Cursed stars. What a fool I have become.

Still keeping the ring safely tucked in one hand, I ran the fingers of my other hand along the fabric. It was all soft, smooth wool, dyed pure black, a suit comprised of a long-sleeved coat of sorts paired with matching trousers. Inside the coat was a crisp white shirt, and a long bit of blue fabric I did not recognize.

“What in the snows of Sionnach is that?” I asked, quirking a brow at the floppy blue silk running down the front of the shirt. A quick tug told me it was not attached to the shirt.

“I hope I got it right,” Aiko said, furrowing her brow. “Torrance said there’s something called a tie that men often wear to their weddings to signify formality.”

“What do you do with it?” I asked, lifting the oddly shaped, long silk piece. It got wider and then pointed at one end, like a sword.

“Apparently it is meant to hang around your neck, with the wide, pointed part aiming downwards.”

“Hmm,” I said, letting the pale blue tie fall back into place. “Thank you, Aiko.”

I draped the entire outfit over my arm. I considered going back to my room to dress – it was my chamber after all, and she was my bride, blast anyone who’d say I shouldn’t go there, shouldn’t see her.

But even while that thought churned in my head, I went back to the workshop, where I dressed alone and in silence.

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