Page 67 of A Reign of Embers

Marc is watching our intimate confirmation with a tightened jaw and an uneasy heat simmering in his dark gray eyes. It’s never been easy to read my imperial foster brother’s expression, and the unnaturally smooth discoloration of his face hasn’t helped matters, but I don’t think he’s exactlyjoyful.

He offered us this validation despite his misgivings. I don’t know how official anyone outside this room would consider the marriage given that Marc’s current imperial status is questionable… but he clearly believes in it, and he’s the one with by far the most to lose.

From the way he spoke, it sounds as if he genuinely doesn’t see himself as losing anything. Nothing more than he’d already lost when his cruelty sent Aurelia into our arms to begin with.

He’s acknowledged how important we are to her, how fiercely we’ve fought for her and defended her. Has he truly gotten to a place where he can appreciate our presence in her life?

It feels a little ridiculous to ask that question when he’sjust turned his own wedding band into rings to honor our love.

All the observations I’ve made over the past few months whir like clockwork in my head. While Lorenzo steps in to claim a lingering kiss of his own from Aurelia, I keep watching the former emperor. A sense of resolve that’s not entirely comfortable rises in my chest.

It’s not until Marc speaks next, as Lorenzo eases away, that I’m sure.

He bobs his head to all of us, his gaze still intense but his tone relaxed enough. “I think you know where the bedroom is. Consummate your union for as long as you’d like.”

Raul blinks at him, as if Marc’s acceptance of our physical intimacies is somehow a step farther than making us Aurelia’s husbands alongside him.

A trace of a flush touches Aurelia’s cheeks—and the slight smile that crosses her face as she looks back at Marc is as sweet as the kiss we shared.

After what he’s just done for us, I can’t resent that smile or the fondness in her eyes. He’s earned it.

No one’s hurt her as much as he and his brother did… but not even the three of us can say we’ve sacrificed anywhere near as much either.

“Is her first husband going to deny his wife a kiss of approval?” I ask, calm and even.

Marc’s expression twitches. His attention snaps from me back to Aurelia. “I…”

Raul shifts on his feet but doesn’t protest. Lorenzo watches with a smile of his own curving his lips.

He might have suggested this himself if he hadn’t been worried about how Raul and I would react.

Where our hands are still entwined with the silk sash, Aurelia squeezes my fingers. Then she holds out her other hand toward Marc.

I sidle over to make room for him to approach. His expression remains difficult to read, but there’s no denying the elation that’s lit there along with whatever else he’s feeling.

He takes her hand in a gentle grasp and leans in.

I can’t say no jab of jealousy runs through me watching them kiss. Aurelia sways slightly closer to him to accept the act, and part of me wants to punch him right off her. But that’s a significant change from how I’d have felt even a couple of months ago, whenallof me would have been completely for punching—and stabbing and gutting—if I’d thought I’d survive the attempt.

Marc has acknowledged everything we’ve done for Aurelia and how happy we make her. It’d be awfully hypocritical of me to deny thathe’sstarted to make her happy too.

It helps that the moment she pulls back from him, she turns to me and kisses me even more passionately than before.

By the time she’s released me, my breath is coming short. Raul is already unwinding the strip of silk to allow us more room to move.

He dips his head to nip the corner of Aurelia’s jaw. “Are you ready to take this to the bed?”

An airy laugh tumbles out of her. “Yes, please.”

As our hands finally separate with the fall of the ceremonial sash to the floor, I turn to Marc again. “Do you think you can handle witnessing the consummation?”

His stare back at me verges on a glower. We both know my question is more a challenge than an invitation.

But Aurelia is watching for his answer too, with no objections. This marriage won’t mean much if he can’t tolerate all its implications.

“She’s yours,” he says, a little hoarsely. “I’ve ratified it before the gods.”

“And we’re hers,” I reply. “Are you?”

---