Page 106 of Claimed By the Fae Lord

“Idiot," Mother said, fist connecting with my shoulder.

She'd appeared out of nowhere, having hurried home at Brahm's behest. Otsonna Duersi never could resist a dramatic entrance, especially for something as monumental as her youngest son getting hitched.

"Ow," I protested, rubbing the spot with mock hurt. "Is that any way to treat your son on his special day?"

"Yes. Especially when I’ve been informed he’s been behaving like an imbecile," she countered.

"Love you too, Mother," I responded, earning myself an eye roll and an embrace that smelt of cinnamon and spice. Of my childhood.

Done with me, she whipped her long, dark copper hair around to face my bride-to-be, clasping Raina by her shoulders.

“You precious thing! You've made my heart so full today, bringing such joy to my Liam."

Raina's poised response, a smile lifting the corners of her lips, didn't betray the nerves I knew she harbored when it came to my mother. "It is I who should be thankful, Dróttning Otsonna. Your son has given me a happiness I thought was lost."

Mother laughed, a rich sound I hadn’t realized I’d been missing. "Well then, let's see if we can add to that happiness by getting you ready as quickly as possible."

She took Raina's hand, much like a warrior would claim a shield, protective and firm. "I shall take over as your mother now, for the day at least. There are things I never got to do with my sons, like fuss over pretty dresses and the like."

Mother had a gleam in her eye that I recognized all too well. It was the same one she'd used on me and Gunnar whenever we were about to be subjected to some unexpected lesson in our youth.

Their laughter faded into the distance, and for a moment, I was left adrift in the quiet. Yet, there was warmth in the knowledge that Raina had always held a place in my mother'sfierce heart, a place I knew she'd always longed for, even as she stood unyielding with her own parents.

Raina squeezed my hand, bringing me back to the present, to the hallowed space where our lives would merge. Our strides halted just outside the entrance of the sanctum.

Its arches towered above us, carved by the hands of berserkers long turned to dust. I never thought I’d be pledging myself to her inside. Not even when we were betrothed.

The plan had been to put on a huge affair at Snowfall Manor. My parents had no interest in such a thing, but they would have gone along with it for Raina’s sake.

Shaking off the dregs of things best left in the past, I looked down at my stunning bride.

My frost nymph was a vision. Dressed in a flowing ice blue gown that shimmered in the light, it hugged her curves in all the right places and made it difficult to keep my hands off her.

The intricate snowflake lacework danced along the edges, making it look like frost was inching up the skirt and sleeves. Her pale hair was intricately braided in an updo, adorned with delicate flowers. It was clearly my mother’s handiwork.

As for myself, I was in traditional head to toe black with polished red-brown leather boots and matching belt. My cloak was held together with a thick clasp shaped with my family’s insigne—the paw of a bear.

Only this particular clasp was unique from others. This particular clasp was designed so the paw was holding a flower. A snowdrop, to be exact.

Mother had it made two years ago and had held onto it, along with her hope for me and Raina to find our way back to one another.

"Ready, flower?" I checked, in earnest.

"You have no idea," she replied.

I couldn't help but chuckle at that. “Oh, I think I might.”

Together, we stepped through the archway into the Sanctum Annexus. The sight that greeted us was something out of a dream. Delicate purple and white flowers twined around pillars. Lush greenery spilled from alcoves, and soft candlelight flickered, casting a dance of shadows and light across the stone.

Neither of us desired the spectacle that came with unions between those who considered themselves aristocratic. Yet, standing here amidst the intimate splendor, I couldn't help wanting this moment to be special for her.

This wedding would be small even by common standards.

"Do you like it?" I murmured, drawing her close as we both took in the beauty wrought by hurried hands and loving intentions.

Her violet eyes, usually so reserved and still, sparkled with unshed tears as they met mine. "Oh, Liam. It's perfect,” her voice a whisper of awe.

A surge of relief—and yes, pride—washed over me. And in that instant, beneath the benevolent gaze of the gods and surrounded by the enchantment of this sacred place, I knew our path was true.

---