Page 67 of The Last Wish of Bristol Keats
Eris slipped his hand into hers, but she discreetly pulled away. “Not here,” she said.
The patience that Eris usually reached for wasn’t there this time, and the tug in his chest wasn’t love.
When Bristol slipped into her seat at Sun Court, she methodically scanned the guests, looking for a scowling alchemist in a fancy robe, but she couldn’t spot Reuben anywhere—at least from her vantage point. A lord with a ridiculously large-feathered hat obscured a whole section of the court. She was still disturbed by Willow’s visit and the distress she saw in her eyes.He’s nowhere. What did that mean?
But as Tyghan began to speak, Reuben and Willow disappeared from her thoughts. She watched Melizan and Cosette looking into each other’s eyes, appearing so oddly fragile. Not like themselves at all. Bristol’s heart swelled. They were laying everything on the line for each other,publicly, and with each word Tyghan spoke, their hard exteriors fell away. They were no longer two fierce knights but two people fiercely in love. And as Tyghan talked about love and comfort and commitment, Bristol’s thoughts turned to his unproposal to her.When this is all over, I want you to be my wife. And I want to be your husband. Her stomach bobbed like it was loose in a sea. How she regretted saying no now, regretted putting it off for the ideal moment, because there was no such thing as the perfect moment. She wished she could tear a ribbon from her dress right now and tie it to Tyghan’s hand and her own and declare her love publicly, so everyone would know.Yes, I want to be your wife!But now was not the time. This was Melizan and Cosette’s moment. Bristol consoled herself that it wasn’t a missed chance. Not yet. There was still time.
“And so,” Tyghan continued, “as we are all present here to witness the binding of your hands and your hearts, I ask that you publicly state your commitment to each other.”
“I bind my heart and life to you, Melizan.”
“And I bind mine to you, Cosette.”
Tyghan lifted their bound hands above their heads and called out, “And these witnesses say . . .”
A loud cheer of affirmations reverberated through the court.
“It is done,” Tyghan concluded.
Melizan and Cosette kissed, and just like that, they were married. Bound in this life and the next in only fifteen minutes as promised—but the celebrations were only beginning.
Tyghan kissed them each on the cheek, had them sign their marriage contract, and then stepped back as Cosette’s relatives moved in, piling flower chains on Melizan, welcoming her to the family. Then they moved in on Tyghan, too, clearly unaware that Melizan’s brother was not the daisy-chain type. But Bristol watched him take it in stride, thanking them, wearing lopsided flower crowns on his head.
Sashka came up beside her, eyeing Tyghan. “Who is that guy?” she asked.
Bristol laughed. “Not sure, but he’s mine. All mine.”
With the palace grounds overflowing with guests, music, and laughter, no one noticed Kasta’s absence from the ceremony.
She sat on the marble corridor of Judge’s Walk, leaning back against a column, the light of the stars and moon shimmering on the surface of her full wineglass. “Do you hear that, Kierus?” she asked. “The music? It’s a wedding. Melizan’s, actually. Yes, even Melizan, who swore she would never commit to one person, is getting married. I suppose Bristol and Tyghan will be next. They’re very close, you know? Think of it, your daughter marrying the man you stabbed. No doubt you’ll be able to hear their wedding from here too.
“Oops,” she said, when she poured more wine and it sloshed over the side, spilling onto the tile. “I’d share some with you, but I guess that’s not possible. But can you smell it, Kierus? Can you imagine the sweetness of a sip? I just want you to know what you’re missing. What you could have had.”
CHAPTER 49
Where are you going?” Bristol asked when Tyghan got out of bed. “It’s still dark.”
“Go back to sleep,” he whispered as he got dressed. “Ivy kindly canceled my meetings yesterday without telling me and moved them to dawn this morning.”
Bristol groaned. “Itwasa magical wedding. Don’t be too hard on her.”
“I’ll find an appropriate way to make her suffer. See you at the valley midday.” He kissed Bristol’s forehead, but as soon as he left, she forced herself out of bed too.
She never did spot Reuben last night, and she was hoping to catch him this morning before he slipped from her grasp again.
The sprawling wings of the palace housed nearly all the nobles, gentry, sorcerers, and workers who lived there. There were a few large manors on the grounds too, where more lords and ladies lived. And there were several isolated cottages. Reuben lived in one of those, which didn’t surprise Bristol. He wasn’t the sociable type, even if he liked to show off his fancy robes at parties.
Bristol hurried down the narrow trail in the predawn light. She had to meet her squad at the stables midmorning, and she wasn’t sure how long this would take. As she walked, she pondered Reuben’s role in all this—although knowing what part he played wouldn’t change a thing. It couldn’t turn back time and deliver her father into the arms of his parents. It couldn’t erase the years of running, the familiar fear that gripped her every time her parents rushed to pack and leave one town for another. Knowing couldn’t change anything about the past, but it might give her more of the answers she came here for in the first place. Likewhy?Answers she could share with her sisters to patch up the holes in their lives. Knowing might also explain why Reuben hated her so much.He is cruel, that one. That part didn’t surprise Bristol, and she was prepared to defend herself. With the tick gone, she had a new proficiency with fire. She could twist and direct it with pinpoint accuracy. Olivia called it a kinship. Esmee called it masterful. Reuben never commented, perhaps fearing he would suffer far more than a singed robe if she attacked him.
Maybe most of all, confronting him would put him on notice that she had something on him—his involvement in the abduction of her father. It might be leverage if she should need his help, or might at least wipe that perpetual smug scowl off his face.Go home, Miss Keats. You don’t belong here. His words were still a kick in her gut, even after all this time.
She arrived at the humble little cottage. The windows were shuttered, but smoke rose from the chimney. He was up. She pounded on the chipped painted door. His home was not as meticulous as he was.
“Go away!” A string of mumbled threats followed, noting the time and idiocy of the early intrusion.
She pounded again. “I’m not going away!”
More curses, the sound of something clanking to the floor, then the door swung open, an enraged Reuben staring at her, his normally sleek hair in frizzy disarray. “Have you lost your pitifully small mind?” he said between gritted teeth.
