Brie
“Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight.”
“How?” I laugh, taking a step away from him. “We-we can’t.”
“We can,” he says breathlessly, shaking his head. “The temple stays open all night. We’d just need to find a priestess.”
“We’d need a witness,” I whisper as the cogs in my mind start turning. “I’d need a dress–”
“I’d marry you like this,” he says, taking my hands. “But please, for the love of the Goddess, marry me before I go.”
I blink up at Logan, my heart swelling and squeezing simultaneously. There’s still a whisper in my mind that warns me that he could change his mind, that he can’t really want me, but I… banish it, giving myself to him fully.
“Are you sure?” I ask, scanning his eyes.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want you to be my wife, Brie.”
“I’m already your mate.”
“It’s not enough.” He brushes my hair out of my face and kisses me, but a rush of air alerts us to a visitor making their way up the stairs to the tower. I pull away as a soft knock sounds on the door.
Neither of us move as the lock begins to turn on its own accord.
Maeve steps into the room, her fingers curled around the door. Her eyes meet mine, a soft blue-green in the sunlight, but her expression dances with shadows as she asks, “Can I come in?”
I nod, but Logan moves away, taking a few steps toward the door. “We’ll meet up later–”
“You’re going to the temple tonight,” Maeve cuts in, and he stops in his tracks. Before either of us can talk our way out of it, she continues, “I overheard.”
“You couldn’t have,” I laugh. “We weren’t–”
“The castle told me,” she whispers, shrugging. “Like it wanted me to help you.”
I stare at my sister, trying to gauge whether she’s serious, or scheming to tell but… Maeve looks forlorn as she closes the door behind her with a soft sigh.
Logan stiffens as Maeve guards the door. “Why would you help us?” he asks, his tone low.
“Because I don’t like what’s happening here–that you’re being sent away, and Brie has to stay. I think it’s unfair. And, she’s my sister. If you’re going to elope, I can’t stop you, but I still want to be involved in some way.”
“You won’t tell?” I ask.
“If that’s what you want, no. I’ll… I’ll be the witness.” Her eyes briefly slide down my body, lingering on my stomach. I turn from her, shaking my head.
“It’s too risky. We haven’t thought it through,” I whisper, breaking my own heart. “Our parents will want to be there. Everyone will.”
“It could be months until the two of you are together again,” she says.
“I know that.”
“If you’re serious,” Maeve continues, looking at Logan, “I’ll help, but you have to keep this a secret until you leave.”
“What’s the catch?” Logan asks, his voice sharpened to a knife's edge. He steps toward her, ignoring the power flaring in her moonstone necklace. “I haven’t forgotten how you looked at me when you spirited us here, nearly killing her. Is this a trap? A way to separate us for real, by turning me in to your father and grandfather for marrying your sister in secret?”
Maeve scoffs, power flaring behind her eyes, “No, it’s not!”
“Logan,” I hiss. “Maeve!”
He steps toward her, but she doesn’t back away. He stares her down, and she looks up at him, her eyes narrowed in a cat-like glare.
“You can think what you want of me, but I’m doing this for my sister, who loves you, even if I think–even if I think you don’t deserve her. No one will ever deserve her, but I suppose you come close.”
“Maeve,” I growl, looking around in hopes I’ll find some kind of weapon–a broom, a candelabra, anything to use to separate them by force if I have to.
“Do you promise you’ll take care of her?” Maeve asks, her voice cracking. “When you take her back to Emberfyll?”
“I will,” Logan rasps.
“I want you to swear it,” she replies darkly, and holds out her hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice rushed as I watch Logan curl his hand in hers.
Inky, dark magic fills the air, scenting the room like blood as she squeezes his hand, her eyes glowing crimson as she says, “Do you vow to protect her with your life if it comes to it?”
“I do.”
“Do you vow,” Maeve asks, “to lay down your own life for her sake and the sake of her future children if you must?”
“You know I would.”
“Say it,” she hisses, and the magic scenting the air becomes too much to handle. I feel it creeping over my skin, ringing through the mate bond. I feel Logan’s silent pain as Maeve’s powers curl through his body like tiny snakes, burrowing into the very marrow of his bones. Black mist rushes over his skin, up his arms, under his shirt…
“I swear on my life. I swear on the Goddess, I will keep her safe. I will lay down my life for her, and our children. Always.”
She lets go of his hand, and the pressure in the room snaps, the mist fading. The magic of the castle, which had shied away from Maeve’s powers, returns, making the curtains flutter violently in protest, but what’s done is done.
I’ve never seen anyone do this before–a magical oath. I notice the crimson stain on Logan’s hand as he wipes his palm against his shirt, looking momentarily disgusted, but then I catch a glimpse of the wound on Maeve’s hand. Blood.
Blood magic.
My lips part, my mouth dropping open. Blood magic is very dark magic. Only a few witches in Moonrise get to learn it, and Maeve was one of them.
“Why did you do that to him?” I shout.
“Because he’ll drop dead if he ever lets any harm come to you,” she rushes out, opening the door. “Go, Logan. Go to the temple and secure a priestess for tonight.”
He looks at me, but Maeve clicks her tongue at him.
His jaw tenses before he exhales deeply and tears himself out of the room, his footsteps thundering on the stairs.
“A blood oath? Really? Do you hate him that much?”
“I don’t hate him, but I trust him as much as I trust any other man–”
“He’s my mate.”
“And you’re my sister. You’d do the same for me if you could,” she remarks. “Enough of this. The rest of the family have decided they’ve put you through enough and are giving you and Logan some space, which works in our favor. No one is supposed to disturb you. But, I still have to sneak you out of here somehow so we can find you a dress.”
“I probably have one–”
“No, we’re going to get a new one, or I’ll raid mom’s closet, and Blake is going to get Logan what he needs–”
“Blake knows? How is that possible?”
“Blake told me where to look to find you, and… he might have foreseen something like this happening.”
I exhale, closing my eyes. “Is anything private in this family? For Goddess’ sake.”
“Do you want my help getting ready for your wedding or not?”
“Can you ensure no one knows? Not even Mom? Not yet.”
“Yes.” She waves a hand around the room. A soft groan echoes from the ancient stone while the curtains flutter. “The castle will keep everyone busy.”
“Am I making a mistake? Eloping?” My voice cracks, but Maeve closes in on me, shaking her head.
“If this is what you want to do, do it. You’ve always taken care of all of us, Brie. It’s your turn to just… do what's best for you and be selfish. Let them throw a grand second wedding or something. But this is for you and Logan.”
I nod, swallowing past my nerves, and say, “Okay. Okay, we’re doing it.”
“Let’s get ready then. It’s nearly sunset already.”
* * *
It’s raining again. I’ve heard it’s bad luck to get married on a rainy day, but this feels… overwhelmingly right.
“This way. Hurry,” Maeve whispers, clutching my hand as we sneak through the garden, our bodies and faces shielded from the rain by our thick cloaks.
I slide to a stop when a trio of guards appear near the front gate, guarding the castle, but Maeve tugs me forward, her necklace glowing as she waves her hand in a wide motion toward the guards and they slump. “Come on,” she whispers, giggling as she rushes us toward the gate.
We slip through it, but I look back at the castle at the flickering lights and towers cast in rainy shadows.
Maeve and I had to act like everything was normal for the rest of the evening. We looted my mother’s closet, finding an old creamy-white gown that Maeve quickly turned into something I could wear. It’s beautiful–with long, flowing sleeves of cream satin and a drop waist. Pearl beads and lace dust the hem. I think she wore this for some ceremony when I was kid, but I can’t remember seeing it on her since.
I also didn’t know that Maeve had the ability to sew, but I figure I can ask her about that, and other hidden, secret talents, later.
We had dinner with the family. Logan didn’t return to the castle, and I made up an excuse for his absence that everyone seemed to understand, saying he was dining in the barracks and meeting with the warriors under his command as captain, readying them for being dispatched to Tarsian, where they’ll soon board ships heading into certain death if the alexandrite doesn’t work.
I felt guilty for keeping this a secret, but my heart is racing as we rush through the rainy streets under a cloak of near absolute darkness.
“What if he doesn’t show up?” I breathe heavily, my muscles straining as I climb the steps to the temple.
“He will. He’s already here,” she says, throwing open the heavy, ancient wooden doors to the temple and leading me into darkness once again.
It’s a small temple, a very old one. Dark stone is illuminated by nothing but candles as we walk inside, our footsteps echoing. Maeve turns me to face her in the little alcove of the entrance.
“I’m happy for you,” she murmurs, but her mouth tilts into a girlish smile. “I wanted this for you, Brie.”
I nod, unable to find the words I need to tell her that I… I love her, and to thank her for making this possible.
Instead, I turn and walk out of the darkness. It only takes me a few steps to reach the archway where the inner sanctum of the temple opens up, revealing pews, and an altar… where Logan’s already waiting.
He looks nervous, but he smiles at me, his eyes creased with a wild kind of excitement, which is exactly how I feel. I have to dig in my heels and slow my pace to stop myself from running into his arms, but this is our wedding. Probably our first wedding, given that I’m a princess. Maybe even the first of three weddings, if he wants to do this again in the Deadlands during the harvest festival, but tonight, this is just about us.
Everything else fades as I walk to him. Blake is nothing but a dark shadow with glowing violet eyes as I pass the pew he’s sitting in, wrapped in silence.
I feel like… nothing is real until I’m standing in front of Logan, my fingers sliding into his hand.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Are you still sure?”
“Always,” he whispers, and two unwilling, headstrong, stubborn, communicatively challenged mates turn to the priestess patiently waiting to marry them.