Page 7 of Oath-Maker

“Of course I do, Nesta.” With everything that I was. My whole heart, as crazy as that sounded after four days. But the mate bond was strong—undeniable. And while it didn’t foster feelings of love, just immense attraction and bond-like gravity, the events after our initial meeting had done that. It was Lucius’s empathy and loyalty to his people. That he’d walk amongst them to leadbesidethem. It was his commitment, his drive. His kindness when I’d deserved none.

But I hadn’t told Lucius yet. He hadn’t let me. And maybe he’d been right to stop it. Voicing it aloud to him, having those feelings sit between us, meant all of this would be more hurtful, more raw, if he didn’t survive the light sickness.

But hewouldsurvive. I’d make sure of that. I’d find a cure, one way or another.

Nesta leveled me with a serious look. “Then let’s get you ready for the ceremonies. You love him, and you know he loves you. I’m sure both of you wanted or expected something different for today. A victory banquet or celebration. But there are worst ways to spend a day than binding oneself to one’s mate.”

“And fulfilling his only wish right now.” Which was really what this was about. A line of succession. A reassurance for the battles ahead. But lines of succession usually included more than just a queen-consort, and it wasn’t like you could conceive, birth, and raise an heir to an appropriate age within a day.

But Nesta was right. And with others looking for a cure to the light sickness, being with Lucius was the most important thing I could do right now, if for no other reason than to keep feeding healing magic into him.

“All right.” I clapped my hands together to force my thoughts into focus. “Let’s do this, then.”

Nesta smiled and made her way to the bathroom, where makeup and other supplies to have me beauty-ready were. “Put on the dress and I’ll be right there.”

I nodded and glanced at the gown. Itwasbeautiful.

But it was equally hard to dismiss the thoughts of marrying Lucius with Merek’s—theGuardian’s—visit so fresh in my mind.

Focus, Ayla.

Lucius. My mate. He was all that mattered today.

* * *

Nesta had been right.Despite the short notice, the throne room had been decorated simply but beautifully. The room itself was already a sight to behold, with one wall of tall and intricate stained-glass windows. The sun shone through them now, casting rainbows of colors along the ground.

Where once there’d stood the one throne which I’d been dragged in front of four days ago, now there stood two, both made from a beautiful dark wood. The court had filled in the space around those thrones and stood now beneath a twinkling set of magical lights that hovered above them like little stars.

Lucius was already at the front of the room, standing before his throne alone. He wore a starry, black ensemble not unlike the magic on his bedroom’s ceiling, as well as a jet-black crown with glimmering diamonds encrusted throughout. He clasped his shaking hands behind his back as soon as we made eye contact. If I’d noticed, then others surely had, too, and while it was no secret that Lucius had been injured in the fight against the Guardian and the Order yesterday, it was one thing to hear about it and another to see it. Lucius needed to keep every bit of strength he had in the eyes of his people. Not because they might think him weak, but because soon he’d be asking them to fight again for Alastia.

Ian’s hand tightened around my elbow. He was to lead me down the center of the room, a path created by the demonic court members—both humanoid and not—as they shuffled backward. Nesta was in attendance as well. She was closer to the front of the room with Jessa and the few paladins who had defected immediately once the fight yesterday had ended.

Ian urged me forward. Lucius was watching him carefully, and to be honest, I didn’t blame him. They’d only met once before the fight yesterday, and it had not gone well. Two paladins had died. Harsh words had been exchanged.

Still, I trusted Ian was fully with us now—and I trusted him with my life. That had never once changed.

“You know—”

“Don’t.” I cut Ian off as we made our way farther into the room. Four days ago, I’d been dragged along this very path by Lorena and other guards, only to land on my knees before Lucius.

“I’m just saying.” Ian tried to instill a bit of humor into his tone, but nothing about it was funny. I knew what he’d been about to say and was immensely happy he’d managed to stop himself from doing so.

Ian had been designated to walk me down the aisle to Merek. It was one of the few plans we’d had solidly in place prior to Merek’s supposed death.

“Things change,” I said. “Thank you for still doing this.”

We reached the front of the room. The entire time I’d made my way toward Lucius, I felt our mate bond washing over me in waves. Now that I was beside him once again, that magic cocooned me in power and safety—in potentiality. It gave me hope. If this power between us that existed based on possibilities was alive and well, then surely there was a chance in one of those possible futures that Lucius was also still alive. That we’d cured him.

Commander Garnet held the handfasting ceremony as the person with the highest other position in attendance. The ceremony itself, from the stating of the three cords’ significance—black for him, gold for me, and a white cord for the hope and peace our bond would bring—to the tying of the knots and the saying of the vows, was a blur. It was hard to concentrate on Commander Garnet’s words when I could feel the shaking in Lucius’s hands. Every time our eyes met, it was impossible to ignore the sweat along his brow. The slight sway in his stance.

I wanted to grab his arms and hold him still and upright. I wanted him to sit down. For Commander Garnet to speak faster and get this over with. But Lucius kept nearly imperceptibly shaking his head as if he could read every single thought crossing my mind—although I supposed the tight grip I had on his hands spoke volumes enough.

By the time Commander Garnet had us sliding our hands out and leaving the tie of cords in his hands, I was sure Lucius would fall over. Instead, he gracefully turned on heel and slipped into his seat without a single hint of discomfort.

At least until he let out a heavy breath.

Whispers coursed through the room.

---