Chapter 26: Contemplating Next Rites
"Yes," her heart screamed. The word blazed through her chest, hot and certain, demanding to be spoken.
Her mouth stayed shut.
Her mind had already spun past the moment, past the joy, past the simple beauty of two kings lying in a nest of furs asking her to marry them. The advisor in her had taken over, the part she had built over centuries, the part that weighed consequences and calculated outcomes while her heart flailed uselessly in its prison of caution.
Their packs.
The thought landed like a stone in still water. Two packs, two kingdoms, two thrones that had stood separate for a hundred years. The Goldenpine Pack and the Ironveil Pack had their own traditions, their own rites, their own carefully maintained borders of custom. And she was their advisor. She knew the weight of those codes, had studied them for five years now. She knew what the packs would say when they learned their kings had taken a witch as mate.
What the packs would say when they learned their kings had taken a witch as queen without ceremony, without announcement, without a single word to their people.
"We haven't told anyone," she heard herself say. Her voice came out distant, thin. "Your packs don't know we're together. They don't know about the bond. And you want to marry me? Here, at a witch festival, without any of your own traditions?"
Cassian blinked. His grin faded slowly, like a lantern losing its flame.
Violet kept going, the words spilling out like water from a cracked vessel. "Marrying here, at Lupercalia, wouldn't that be a slap in the face to your packs? They've been loyal to you for centuries. They deserve to witness their kings' bonding. They deserve their own rites, their own ceremonies. What other shifter traditions are we ignoring?"
Evander's hand tightened around hers. "Violet—"
"And the rumors." She was almost breathless now, her heart pounding. "People have been whispering about us since I started working at Thornhold five years ago. Five years, Cassian. Five years of gossip about their bachelor kings and the witch advisor. And now we confirm it all by turning up at Lupercalia together and bonding in front of every witch and warlock in the realm? The courts will tear us apart. The packs will feel slighted. The political fallout—"
"Violet." Evander's voice was quiet, but it cut through her rambling like a blade through silk. He released her hand and took her face between his palms, turning her to face him fully. His ocean-blue eyes held hers, steady and warm, and she saw no irritation there. No condescension. Only affection, and something like wonder.
"You are spiraling," he said softly. "You haven't even registered that we just asked you to marry us, have you?"
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"Your heart said yes," he continued, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. "I felt it through the bond. It sang, Violet. It sang so loud I thought Cassian would hear it without me."
Behind her, Cassian made a low sound of assent. "I did hear it."
"You're thinking about packs, and traditions, and political fallout." Evander's voice gentled further. "You're thinking about every reason this could go wrong before you've even let yourself feel how much you want it to go right."
Her eyes burned. "I have to think about those things. I'm your advisor. It's my job to—"
"It's your job to advise us on the court, not to deny yourself happiness because the court might gossip." Evander's gaze was unwavering. "Our sweet witch. So concerned about our careers that she forgot to enjoy the moment for herself."
"Evander—"
"Our packs will learn of the bond before the ceremony," he said. "Cassian and I will send word this morning, runners to both territories. Your name, our claim, the marks on your shoulder. They will know before nightfall, and they will come if they want to come, and they will celebrate if they want to celebrate. But they will not dictate when or where we bind our mate to us."
"Because we've waited long enough," Cassian added, his voice rough and low.
Evander's grip on her face tightened almost imperceptibly, drawing her closer. "Your heart said yes. Mine said yes the moment I smelled your magic in my throne room. We've spent a hundred years estranged, Violet. A hundred years of cold beds and colder silences, and I will not spend another hour letting politics keep me from you."
Then he kissed her.
The kiss was deep and consuming, his mouth claiming hers with a gentleness that somehow managed to be fierce. His hands held her face like she was precious, like she was the answer to a question he had been asking for centuries. And for a long, dizzy moment, Violet's mind went blissfully, gratefully blank.
When Evander finally drew back, she was breathless. Her thoughts had scattered like startled birds.
"I didn't even say yes," she whispered.
"You didn't have to." His smile was soft, almost shy. "Your heart already gave us the answer."
Then Cassian wrapped his arms around her from behind.
His chest pressed against her back, warm and solid, his breath hot against her ear. He gathered her against him like she was something sacred, and she felt the scrape of his stubble against the curve of her neck before his lips found the sensitive skin there.
"You think too much, love," he murmured against her. "I've been thinking about this since the moment I scented you, and I've never once regretted a single selfish second of it."
And then he bit her.
Not hard. A gentle scrape of teeth against her pulse point, followed by the hot suction of his mouth, drawing the skin up until it stung sweetly. Violet gasped, her body arching into him instinctively. The mark he left throbbed in time with her heartbeat.
"He's right," Evander said, watching with dark, hooded eyes. "Our sweet mate, trying to solve every problem before she's even allowed herself to celebrate." He leaned in, pressing his mouth to the other side of her neck, mirroring Cassian's work. His kiss was softer, slower, but no less possessive.
She was bracketed between them, caught in a haze of lips and teeth and heat. Cassian's mouth worked down the curve of her shoulder, biting, soothing, marking. Evander claimed the tender space beneath her ear, the hollow of her throat, the ridge of her collarbone. Each bite made her shiver. Each mark made the spiral slow.
"Cassian, wait—" she tried.
"No waiting." He kissed the spot he had bitten, his tongue soothing the sting. "You're going to lie here and let us worship you, and you're going to let the answer you already know settle into your bones."
"Your neck is going to be covered in marks," Evander agreed, his voice low and warm. "Every shifter at this festival will see them. Every witch too. They'll know exactly who you belong to, and they'll know exactly who claimed you first."
"And you'll know it too," Cassian murmured against her skin. "Every time you look in a mirror for a week, you'll see us."
The words should have frightened her. The possessive edge in their voices should have triggered every instinct she had honed over centuries of guarding her independence. But she was no longer the witch who hid in her tower, terrified of being wanted. She was theirs. Marked. Claimed. Loved.
And her heart had already said yes.
Cassian's teeth found the hollow at the base of her throat, and she moaned, her head falling back against his shoulder. Evander's hand slid up her thigh, his fingers finding the slick heat between her legs, and she bucked against him.
"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, that's not fair."
"Nothing about this has been fair," Evander said, his mouth brushing her jaw. "We never stood a chance against you, Violet. From the moment you walked into our throne room with your careful robes and your careful words, we were lost."
Cassian pressed another kiss to her shoulder, wet and hot. "So yes, we're getting married tonight. In front of every witness the realm can provide. And if the packs have opinions about it, they can howl at the moon."
"And the rumors?" she asked weakly.
"Let them fly." Evander's fingers circled her clit, slow and teasing. "Let them say whatever they want. They'll all be true by nightfall, anyway."
She was drowning. In sensation, in their heat, in the certainty that had been building in her chest since the moment she had woken between them. Her every careful calculation, every carefully constructed argument, every fear she had spent centuries polishing, all of it melted beneath the steady weight of their devotion.
She turned her head, catching Cassian's mouth with hers. The kiss was deep, messy, desperate. She could taste herself on his lips, taste the salt of sweat and the sweetness of his love, and she wanted more. She wanted everything.
"Yes," she said against his mouth.
He froze.
"Yes?" Evander's hand stilled between her thighs. "Did you just—"
"Yes." She laughed, the sound breaking on a sob she hadn't expected. "Yes, I'll marry you. Both of you. Tonight, tomorrow, whenever you want. I'll marry you in front of every shifter and witch in the realm. I'll stand with you beneath the waning eclipse and promise to love you for the rest of my endless years."
Cassian let out a sound that was half roar, half laugh, and then he was kissing her again, fierce and joyful. Evander's hand resumed its work, faster now, driven by a hunger that made her gasp.
"Say it again," Evander demanded, his voice ragged. "I need to hear it again."
"I'll marry you," she gasped. "I'll marry you both. I'm yours. I've been yours since the moment I saw you, since the moment I walked into that throne room and felt my heart stop. I'm yours, Evander. I'm yours, Cassian."
"Forever," Cassian growled against her throat.
"Forever," she agreed.
The spiral was gone. The calculations, the fears, the careful weighing of consequences, all of it had burned away. What remained was only the three of them, tangled together in the golden light of the festival morning, and the soaring, incandescent certainty of her own heart finally, finally saying yes.