Aris
I’ve seen things in my life I can’t explain.
This is, by far, the most intense.
I was perfectly fine staying ignorant of the fact that the spirits who keep the castle running like a well-oiled machine were once people, and that Soren was right about being unnerved by their ghostly presence.
But this is…. This is just…
Posey steps forward to stand between me and the young woman draped in silver moonlight, her gown like something out of the ancient books in Arthur’s archives. It’s strange seeing the haunting outline of the diadem on her head, her dark, tightly curled hair woven through the slits of metal in an intricate updo compared to Posey, soot-stained and gorgeous, still in her apron, the diadem resting on top of her thick, strawberry-blonde waves.
Two princesses separated by death and centuries stare at each other for a very long time.
I feel the male spirit's presence nearby, but he’s invisible, just a touch of air on the side of my cheek.
Isolde, that’s what Posey calls her. An old name.
“I remember,” Isolde says, closing her eyes.
“Who did this to you?” Posey asks with heartbreaking quiet.
Isolde opens her eyes again and looks directly over my shoulder like the man who used to draw the very sword in my hands is standing right behind me.
“In the time of the old kings,” she says in an ethereal voice, “after the Great War and the Goddess’s veil we were safe here, in the valley. The Shadowsyngers never fought in the war against the fae gods. They wouldn’t. They saw it as the losing battle it was and chose to protect our sacred people instead, including mine. Ours.” She looks at Posey with overt sympathy. “It used to be the women who were the most powerful alchemists, Posey. Long ago, when there were hundreds of us. I was one of the last.” Isolde looks down at her hands–misty silver streaks as she moves, turning to look out the window. “The Alpha King at the time, my father-in-law, paid my father a fortune to have me brought to this castle. I was tasked with making weapons. Terrible, powerful weapons for every Shadowsynger, man, woman, and child. That’s how I met Levi.” She turns again to look behind me, and her smile is so full of yearning, so heartbroken, I have to brace a hand on Posey’s worktable to keep myself upright.
“We fell in love as a new king rose to power in Rifthold, this one worse than the last. King Kane. He was young and hungry for the dwindling powers of his fae ancestors, and he took everything from everyone–all those shifters. All those witches. He enslaved Eastonia in a matter of years, and with his power, he grew in influence.”
She walks in a tight oval, wringing her hands. “Veiled Valley was supposed to be protected. We were hidden for so long even some of the last Firestone queens didn’t know about us until it was too late for them to beg for our help. I was eighteen when Levi and I married in secret, against his father’s wishes. Nineteen when I built him that armor to house his powers, and gods, he was so powerful.” Her voice cracks painfully. “And he made me promise that if he died in that armor, his powers would remain, that he would remain with each piece so he could continue guarding the valley until those fit, those of our bloodline, could rise to power again, called back to the home we vowed we’d die for.” Her eyes land on the sword. “And I agreed, but only as long as I got to stay with him, so when I built the sword… I took some of the gems and used them in the diadem I crafted for our wedding day, binding myself to his magic so that we’d stay together, and we have.” She smiles. It’s soft and wistful, just like her words.
“But we were betrayed. His father was slain. The elders encouraged a ball in our honor, to usher in my mate’s reign as Alpha King, but it was a trap. I tried to tell him. I kissed our infant son goodbye and sent him away with the witches to be kept hidden in Moonrise, where the rebellion had taken hold. It was safe there. King Kane had infiltrated Veiled Valley, swayed our elders against us, promised eternal life and power, but he lied. His army killed everyone. Every last Shadowsynger. Our streets ran red for decades.” She turns away from us, her hand pressed against the window.
“But our son survived. The witches taught him what little they knew about his kind. He had a son, and you are a direct descendent. It’s where you get your family name.” She looks right at me over her shoulder.
“Westfall?”
She nods. “And you must know his story, how your great-grandfather was caught and enslaved by Kane, how he escaped with young Ryatt. And Ryatt found the sword and the castle. We came to life again, able to watch what’s left of our kind grow and thrive. I watched you grow up, Aris.” Her voice edges on a sob. “I didn’t get to see my son grow up. I wasn’t there to witness his first steps, his first words, or his first love, but you gave us that.” She looks over my shoulder again. “Both of us. Levi?”
The male presence is warm beside me, like it’s his hand pressed on my shoulder, squeezing in agreement.
But Isolde looks at Posey, her eyes wan, glimmering with moonlight. “And you found my diadem. I wondered if anyone would ever find it. And it was you, an alchemist like me. He’ll need you in the years to come. Everyone will. You are, wholeheartedly, the glue that will hold Veiled Valley together. It’s what we’re for as alchemists.”
A tear trails down Posey’s cheek.
Isolde looks at Levi, again, smiling softly. “Do you remember now?”
His answer isn’t meant for me and Posey, but his warmth is like nothing I’ve ever felt.
Isolde fades, and the castle shudders, and then it’s clear we’re alone again. I give myself a moment to collect my nerves and tuck them away. Then, I set the sword on the shelf, feeling more than a little out of body.
Posey doesn’t take off the diadem. She’s looking at the spot where our resident ghost stood, her eyes searching the shadows in a longing way that both breaks my heart and makes me smile softly.
“They’re not leaving, you know.”
“How do you know that?” She wipes her tears, transferring soot from her hands to her cheeks.
“Because, according to Levi–Goddess, it’s nice to have a name for him finally–he has unfinished business.”
“What? What business does he have?” She blinks up at me, confused, and I smile again.
“He’s been really enjoying tormenting Maeve’s mate, Soren. You’ll meet him during Solstice.”
She furrows her brow. “They’re staying because he wants to harass your sister’s mate?”
I nod. “Yep.” Maybe that’s not the only reason, but it’s certainly the funniest.
“Aris, that’s asinine!”
“Take it up with him.” Enough of this. I’m ready to go to bed. I’m ready to fall asleep on a couch in the library while Posey picks through another book about apothecary medicine or the romance novels she thinks I don’t know about. Some of them make our trysts in the sheets look tame. “Where were we?”
I tug her close, folding my arms around her back. She melts into the touch with a sigh. “We were playing dress up while we waited for the rings to cool off.”
“They look cooled off now.”
She turns her head to look down at the worktable. “It’s late. We should probably go to bed.”
“I don’t know. Do you know anyone at the temple who could marry us?”
“Tonight?”
“Why not?
Her lips part in a gasp. “But–”
“I know you don’t want a wedding.” I lean down, caging her in against the worktable. “I know the last thing you want is to have to walk down the aisle in a huge dress while everyone stares at you. I also know you’d rather throw yourself from one of the spires than have to gut through a reception afterward.”
She can’t argue. Her guilty sigh burrows through me. “But… what about what you want?”
“I’d like to marry you and come home, alone with you, and lie in bed until morning, alone with you, and wake up to just you in a quiet house, and then… fuck you in every room.”
“Aris, be serious.”
“I’m dead serious. I don’t want to wait.”
“What about your family?”
“What about yours?”
She frowns. I kiss it away. “My family will live, trust me. I’d rather be married with your ring on my finger when I go drag your father through the coals, anyway.”
“What about Roman?”
Ah, fuck. That. My best friend… and his little sister, who I’m now propping up on the table, spreading her legs, preparing to bury myself deep between her thighs.
“I’ll handle it.”
***
The temple is shrouded in shadow when we approach the elderly priestess waiting for us at the altar. Posey’s wearing the most beautiful cream satin gown I’ve ever seen–long sleeved and fitted around her waist. I’m not sure where it came from, but then again, neither is she. Isolde is my guess.
Posey bows her head to the priestess who smiles fondly down at her in a way a mother would, and I realize this woman is likely the mentor Posey told me about during quiet hours over the past week or so, when we were lying in just our skin, watching the mural in my bedroom shift from starry night to day.
I never considered myself a romantic until Posey bulldozed her way into my heart. I’d write sonnets if I had a lick of creative ability, something more than, “You have massive, amazing breasts. I want to bury my face between them for the rest of my life,” which, admittedly, I considered adding to our vows because, hell, that’s all I’m thinking about when we’re silently commanded to kneel, and the satin fabric pulls over her chest, her nipples peaked against the chilled air. I’d fall on my sword for this amazing woman, more than once if it doesn’t kill me the first time. I’d do anything she asked.
Life without her feels suddenly foreign, like my entire life up to this moment in time meant very little.
It’s a simple, quiet ceremony. There’s no fanfare, no applause, no hoots and hollers. Petals don’t rain down from the ceiling. My mom isn’t in the wings bawling her eyes out from happiness.
I’ll make it up to my parents one day.
I’ll make her parents wish they’d treated her better.
I don’t feel the bead of silver weighed against the length of silk as our hands are bound, a test of our bond. But when I slide the ring on her finger, it feels like a miracle. The Goddess is here, finally smiling on me, pleased with my behavior and ability to pull such a stunner. Fuck. I am the luckiest man alive tonight. I in no way deserve this. I’m acutely aware of how I didn’t listen to a Goddess-damned thing the priestess said during the ceremony. I’m acutely aware of the feeling of taking Posey in my arms and kissing her like the priestess isn’t watching, however, and Posey’s smile against my lips, and how good it feels to pick her up and run out into the street, spinning her in a circle before spiriting her back to the castle, to our room, where we fall into the sheets, and the satin dress becomes strips of torn fabric in a matter of seconds because we’re both too impatient to exercise restraint and use the zipper.
I watch her sleep until the first hints of the sunrise fan through the curtains. Outside, it's as warm as spring, the snow melting.
I count the freckles on the bridge of her nose and press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back,” I promise, kissing her lips, and she burrows into the pillow with a yawn.
I really don’t want to leave, but I might need to make her an orphan this morning if her father gives me any flack.
And also, I need to buy her a Solstice gift.