POV: Theron
The weather should not matter.
After everything we’ve survived—dragons, assassins, Eclipse, war—sun and sky should be irrelevant. But the clear blue sky, warm light, and soft wind over the gardens feel like approval.
The ceremony is in the private gardens near the volcanic cliffs. Simple wooden chairs in a semicircle. An arch woven with red roses and blue water lilies—fire and water twined together. Small. Intimate.
Hadrian stands beside me under the arch. Thalassa sits in the front row with a handkerchief. Lysander, Edmund, Brynn, the people who stayed—our people—fill the rest.
Formal black coat with red trim. Clean boots. Hair actually combed. Salve on the scar that only makes it stand out more.
“You look like a man about to face a firing squad,” Hadrian mutters.
“I’ve seen firing squads,” I say. “They were less terrifying.”
He snorts. “She’s marrying you. Hard part’s done.”
Music starts—soft strings. Saren and Morgana walk up the path first, hands joined. They take their place under the arch.
The officiant, a senior councilor, steps forward. “We gather at sunset to witness two unions,” he says. “Two couples choosing each other despite everything that tried to prevent it. Morgana of House Ashwyn. Saren of Aetherwyn. Speak your vows.”
Morgana smiles. “I vow to bicker with you for the rest of our lives,” she says. “To call you on your nonsense. To love you through every stupid decision and terrible joke. To be your partner, your home, your choice. Always.”
Saren grins. “I vow to make terrible jokes just to annoy you. To protect you even when you don’t need it. To love you fiercely through every battle and every peace. You’re my anchor, my fire, my home. I choose you. Today and every day.”
“By the power vested in me by Fire and Water kingdoms united,” the officiant says, “I declare you bonded. You may kiss.”
Saren doesn’t wait. He hauls Morgana in and kisses her while everyone cheers.
They step aside, still holding hands.
Hadrian nudges me. “Your turn.”
Music shifts.
I look up.
Ravenna appears at the top of the path on her father’s arm, and the world narrows to a point.
White silk edged in red, blue at her waist, hair loose with braids, her mother’s sapphire at her throat. The bond hums so strongly it’s a miracle my knees don’t give out.
She looks at me.
Everything else disappears.
Aldric walks her down slowly, like he’s stretching these last moments while she is only his daughter. When they reach us, he takes her hand and places it in mine.
Her fingers are warm. Steady. Real.
“Take care of her,” he says quietly.
“I will,” I answer. It isn’t ceremony. It’s oath.
Ravenna turns fully toward me. The garden, the guests, the music—all of it fades.
“Theron of Cindravale,” the officiant says. “Princess Ravenna. You have survived trials that would break most bonds. You stand here choosing each other. Choosing life. Speak your vows.”
I hadn’t planned to speak first, but the words are already there.
“I vow to protect you with everything I am,” I say, voice rough. “To stand beside you through every battle. To be your shield and your partner and your home.
“Five times I was rejected. Five times I thought I’d die alone. Then you crossed an arena to take my hands and everything changed. You saved me, not just from death, but from believing I wasn’t worthy of being chosen. I vow to spend the rest of my life being worthy of that gift. Of you. Of us.”
Her eyes shine.
She swallows. “I vow to choose you,” she says. “Every day. Even when it’s hard. Even when I’m scared. Even when the world tries to tear us apart. I vow to let you protect me when I need it and to protect you when you won’t protect yourself. To be your partner, your home, your choice.” Her voice shakes. “You’re the best decision I ever made. And I choose you. Today. Tomorrow. Always.”
“By the power vested in me,” the officiant says, smiling, “I declare you bonded. Princess Ravenna. Theron. You are now husband and wife. You may—”
I don’t wait.
I pull her against me and kiss her. The bond flares, heat and light and the distant echo of dragons. People cheer, someone sobs, but it’s all far away.
For a few heartbeats, there is only her.
When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers.
“Wife,” I murmur.
Her lips curve. “Husband.”
For the first time in years, the future doesn’t look like an endless road of war. It looks like this. Us.
***
The celebration that follows is small and loud.
Tables in the garden. Roasted meats, fresh bread, wine. People who matter, not people who want something.
Friends come to clasp my hand, hug Ravenna, offer blessings. Thalassa tells us Elara would have loved this—simple, genuine, full of love. Lysander looks at Ravenna like she’s every miracle he never expected to see.
Aldric finds us during the meal.
“You look happy,” he says to her.
“I am,” she answers, leaning briefly against him. “Thank you. For letting us do this our way.”
“You both deserve it,” he says. His gaze meets mine. “Take care of each other.”
“We will,” I say.
The sun sinks. The sky turns molten. Music plays again. Saren and Morgana dance badly and enthusiastically. I pull Ravenna close under the arch and we sway while the world softens around the edges.
“Perfect,” she whispers.
“It is,” I say.
For one small, fragile moment, it feels like we’ve outrun everything.
Then the alarm bells ring.
***
The sound cuts clean through the music.
In an instant the garden shifts—guards appear from the shadows, guests freeze, Aldric is already on his feet.
“What’s happening?” Ravenna demands.
Hadrian jogs into the garden, armor only half-fastened. “The prison,” he says. “Someone broke in—”
My stomach drops. There’s only one prisoner that warrants bells during a royal wedding.
“Seris?” Aldric snaps.
“Gone.” Hadrian’s face is grim. “The Shadow infiltrated during the celebration. Killed six guards using shadow manipulation to move unseen through the cells. He freed her. They escaped on dragons before anyone realized. By the time the alarm sounded, they were gone.”
Noise explodes—panic, shouted orders, scraping chairs. I go very still.
“How?” I ask. “Maximum security is warded. Rotations are staggered.”
“Shadow manipulation,” Hadrian says. “He moved between patches of darkness, disabled the wards, took out key posts. It was precise. Planned.”
“Direction?” Aldric barks.
“North. Skyreach.” Hadrian’s jaw tightens. “By the time we launch pursuit, they’ll be across the border under Air Kingdom neutrality.”
“Then we invade,” Aldric growls.
“We can’t,” Thalassa says, pale. “Not without starting a war with Skyreach. We can’t fight a three-front war with Pyrstone still hostile.”
“She escaped,” Aldric says. “The woman who killed Elara, who led the Eclipse—she escaped.”
“I’ll find her,” I say. The words come out low. “We’ll hunt her down.”
“She’s gone.” Ravenna’s voice slices through the chaos. Flat. Too calm. “The Shadow waited until we were distracted. Until security was focused on the wedding instead of the prison.” Her eyes meet mine, burning. “She used our happiness as cover.”
The truth hits like a second bell.
Our wedding. Our celebration. Our joy. All of it made the perfect distraction.
“I’m sorry,” Hadrian says quietly. “This shouldn’t have happened. Not today.”
“It’s not your fault,” Ravenna says. Her hands shake. “It’s hers. The Shadow’s. They chose this.”
Guilt claws up my throat anyway. I should have thought of this. Planned for it.
I pull her into my arms before the thoughts spiral.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur into her hair. “I’m so sorry. Our wedding day—”
“Our wedding day,” she says, voice breaking. “Our day. And she ruined it.”
“No.” I hold her tighter. “We’re married, Ravenna. We made vows. We chose each other. She can’t touch that. She can never touch that.”
“But she escaped—”
“And we’ll find her,” I say, cupping her face, forcing her to meet my eyes. “We’ll bring her to justice. But right now this moment is ours. Seris has taken enough from you. I won’t let her have this too.”
She swallows. Some of the wildness leaves her eyes, though the hurt stays.
Behind us, Aldric is already sending orders. Dragons will fly within the hour. But we all know Hadrian is right—by the time they reach the border, Seris and the Shadow will be gone.
Skyreach territory. Treaties. Neutrality.
Untouchable. For now.
***
Later, our balcony is quiet.
The arch still stands in the garden below. The chairs are half-stacked. Lanterns sway in the wind, leftovers from the celebration that ended too fast.
“We broke the Eclipse,” I say quietly. “We exposed them. Took most of them down. That matters, even if Seris slipped the noose.”
“Does it?” Ravenna’s hands curl on the railing. “She’s free. She’ll rebuild. Hunt again.”
“Then we stop her again,” I say. I step in behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, anchoring her. “We’re married now, Ravenna. Partners. Family. Whatever she tries, wherever she runs—we face it together.”
She leans back into me slowly, like her body has to relearn the motion.
“We’re married,” she whispers, as if testing the words. “That happened. That’s real.”
“It is,” I say, kissing her temple. “Seris is a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, you’re my wife. I’m your husband. That’s ours.”
She exhales, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.
Maybe this doesn’t feel like victory. Not the kind with banners and clean endings.
But as I hold her above the quiet garden, feeling her heartbeat under my hands and the faint echo of our dragons on the roof above, I know one thing with absolute certainty:
She chose me. I chose her.
Whatever comes next—Seris, Skyreach, the remnants of Eclipse—
We’ll meet it together.