Page 107

“How did you learn to do this?” I ask, buttoning my jacket. Black, like his; we almost match.

Killian shoves his hands into his pockets, avoiding my gaze. “Your father.”

Ah. Something sours in my gut.

It’s never escaped me how close Killian was with Ferguson. That man took to the Reaper better than he ever did his own children. If he could’ve disowned all of us and only kept Killian, he would’ve, without question.

A part of me is jealous. He was a horrible man. He hurt all of us and praised Killian from the moment he entered our lives. But a part sympathizes with the Reaper; he knew Ferguson as a mentor, and he tossed all that admiration out the door so he could kill him to protect Maeve.

And he never let Ferguson’s favoritism prevent him from being there for me.

Killian grabs a white lily from God knows where and places it into my suit pocket. “C’mon, kid. You’ve got someone waiting for you.”

Outside is a small man in a white robe with gold scrollwork. He’s bald, stout, and long-faced. Maeve shakes his hand, whispering words to him. I assume threats, but her face is neutral, and the priest isn’t crying, so that’s a perk. When she sees us, she releases him.

Before I can ask, she shrugs. “You needed a priest. I found you a priest.”

I thought I was the sibling with the hookups—apparently not.

Killian clamps a warm hand on my shoulder and murmurs, “Good luck.”

Right. My gut explodes with a dozen angry wasps, begging to be released. I’m about to be married—me. I never thought I’d live long enough to see this day.

Maeve stops before me, tightening my tie. She smooths the fabric over my shoulders, mothering me like she used to do before the first day of school. If she tries to fix my hair, I’m out.

“Are you sure?” Her gaze is worried, haunted. I can’t blame her. There’s a lot happening right now—and I’m marrying her enemy.

“More than I’ve ever been.”

She swallows. “And you love her?” Her green eyes—with gold flakes she and I inherited from our father—reflect the heavy moon. “You’re not doing this to spite Roman. You actually love her.”

Grinning, I shake my head. “Do you really think I’d go this far to fuck over Roman Bruno?”

“Yes.” She grips my arms. “If you are, I will stop this wedding and get that girl out of here. Far from either of you.”

Appreciation bursts behind my sternum. “You’d choose her over me?”

“No,” she scoffs. “But we don’t hurt innocents. And I will not let her be harmed by this war if I can help it.” She’s always believed that—never taking collateral damage in this criminal enterprise. Pops didn’t care, but she does. “Tell me. Do you love her?”

Sighing, I grab my sister’s hands, holding them over my heart. It’s a steady pounding, unhurried and strong. Nerves tingle all over my body, but my heart is sure. She bites her inner cheek.

“This is hers, sis. Only hers. I wouldn’t hurt her, even if it saved all of you. She comes first.”

Maeve exhales, a rare smile lighting up her face. “Good.”

Stepping back, I take my place at the priest’s side. Killian pulls out his phone and plays a soft instrumental wedding march so light, the breeze carries it away.

At the end, where another tent stands, Valentina emerges, on the arm of Ello. He’s in a smart suit, but glowers at me. He’s not a fan, and I smirk knowingly.

My gaze falls on my bride. My knees buckle at the sight of her. The moonlight rains down on her, a swath of light, cutting across her bare collarbone. The white corset cuts tight to her lean curves, and her little skirt puffs around those killer legs. She glides on those spiked heels, steps firm.

As she stops before me, I’m taken aback by the sparkle on her dress, as if made of pure stardust. She’s the darkest parts of space and galaxies, and molded from sunlight, left as a goddess on Earth.

I wind a finger into her long locks; they’re soft, like silk. A lily is pinned to one side of her head, covering her ear. Her scent surrounds me, the start of something new.

Without warning, I kiss her. I have to—she’s too ethereal to ignore.

“Now, now, we’ll have time for that in a few minutes,” the priest comments, folding his hands.