Lysara woke to pale morning light slipping through the narrow gap in the curtains, a single shaft of gold stretching across the bed until it rested upon her hand. The emerald caught it immediately, throwing hidden depths of green back at her in endless fractured reflections. Whoever had cut the stone had understood their craft. The facets seemed to fold into one another until the heart of the gem appeared to recede into infinity.
She lay curled on her side with her back to Daevyn, cocooned beneath the covers in the lingering warmth of sleep. Sometime during the night he had gathered her against him, one arm draped securely around her waist, his hand resting lightly against her stomach. There was something unexpectedly comforting about waking like this, held without either of them seeming consciously aware of it.
Behind her he stirred with a quiet sigh, the sound accompanied by the subtle shift of the mattress as he moved instinctively closer. His arm tightened, drawing her gently back against him, and his hand wandered upwards until it settled just beneath her collarbone, holding her there as though even half asleep he sought the reassurance of her presence. She felt him lower his face into her hair and breathe in slowly.
She had begun to notice how often he did it without thinking, particularly when he believed she wasn't paying attention. It seemed less a deliberate action than an instinct so deeply woven into him that he scarcely realised he was indulging it.
His embrace changed almost imperceptibly. The lazy contentment of sleep gave way to something warmer, more aware, as his hand drifted slowly back down over the curve of her waist to rest lightly against her hip. His breathing deepened, and after a long, comfortable silence she heard him murmur her name, his voice still rough with sleep.
"Lysara..."
“Mmm,” she shifted against him, relaxing from her curl so that he could align their bodies and ease his cock into her.
He groaned a sigh and slid his hand down to stroke her clitoris with his fingertips as he rocked slowly in and out of her, the motion smooth and almost soothingly wave like.
She pressed back into his movements, grinding into him, and his groan was staggered on an in-draw, holding an edge that told her that he was not far from coming. His fingers against her became more insistent, urging her body to cross the line with him, but he broke first, with a startled cry. He continued to coax her orgasm from her, and she finally fell, gripping the pillow and pressing her face into it.
Daevyn chuckled and kissed the back of her shoulder. “We should have earlier nights,” he said, his lips moving against her skin. “We can bookend our sleep with sex if we are well rested. It is a good way to start the day.”
He pressed one last kiss against the bare skin of her shoulder before letting out a reluctant groan and easing himself away. The mattress shifted as he rolled from the bed, running a hand back through his sleep-tousled hair before disappearing through the communicating door into his own room.
"Don't forget," he called as the door closed behind him, "your mother and the wedding planner are coming today."
Lysara groaned as she reached for her phone on the bedside table and found a message from Elowen waiting for her.
Eleven o'clock, darling. Don't be late.
She did the mathematics automatically. If Daevyn dropped her home on his way into the city, she could still make dance class, provided she came straight back afterwards. It would be tight, but just manageable.
Satisfied, she slipped from the bed and disappeared into the ensuite.
By the time she emerged, dressed and fastening an earring, Daevyn had returned. The charcoal suit had replaced the comfortable clothes he'd worn the evening before, his hair once again tied neatly back, and he was fastening his cufflinks with the practiced efficiency of a man already mentally halfway through the day's meetings.
He looked up as she reached for her overnight bag.
"Can you drop me home on your way to work?" she asked. "I think I can still make dance class if we leave now."
He glanced up from the cufflink he was fastening.
"What about the wedding planner?"
"They're coming at eleven." She zipped the bag closed. "I'll be back in plenty of time."
He considered that for a moment before nodding. "Very well."
He crossed the room ahead of her and opened the bedroom door, but as she stepped past with the overnight bag he quietly caught the handles, lifting it from her grasp with one hand.
"This stays."
Before she could protest he unzipped the top just far enough to retrieve her phone, handing it back to her before closing the bag again.
She frowned.
"Daevyn..."
He rested the case just inside the dressing room.
"This is your home now, Lysara." His voice was gentle rather than commanding, as though the statement were simply an obvious fact. "You should be bringing the rest of your belongings here, not taking these back."
She hesitated.
"I know, but..." She wasn't entirely certain why she felt compelled to argue. "I won't have time today. There's dance class, then Mama and the wedding planner, and Celeste is collecting me from my parent’s place at two..."
He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers as they left the room together.
"Then ask your mother to have the servants pack your things," he said simply. "She can bring them when she comes."
Lysara blinked.
It was such an entirely sensible solution that she wondered why it hadn't occurred to her.
She sent Elowen a quick message while they walked through the entrance hall and out to where the carriage waited.
The drive from the Fae Gate into the city passed comfortably enough, the morning traffic still light as Daevyn guided the car along the tree-lined roads. The radio played quietly in the background while she finished exchanging messages with her mother, scarcely paying attention until a familiar voice drifted unexpectedly through the speakers.
Her heart lurched.
Daevyn made a small sound beneath his breath, almost one of recognition, and reached to turn the volume up.
Lysara looked across at him.
He kept his attention on the road ahead, his expression unreadable as Aurora's voice filled the car, rich and hauntingly beautiful, every note carrying the effortless confidence.
A dull ache settled somewhere beneath Lysara's ribs.
"And that," the radio presenter purred as the final notes faded away, "was the incomparable Aurora with her debut single, My Lover. I think we'll all be watching this young lady's career very closely indeed, won't we, Adrian?"
His co-host laughed. "Oh, I suspect there are quite a few people watching her very closely."
The innuendo hung in the air.
Neither of them spoke until the Aston Martin turned into the Ashwyns' driveway.
"You should still make dance class," he said, drawing the car to a smooth halt before the front steps. "Just." He smiled and reached across the console, brushing a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.
He leaned across to kiss her softly before sitting back once more.
"Have a good day."
"You too."
She climbed from the car, pausing on the front steps long enough to watch the Aston Martin disappear down the drive before hurrying inside to change.
She might almost as well have skipped the class. Her thoughts refused to remain in the dance studio for longer than a few moments at a time, wandering inexorably back to Daevyn, House Vale and the wedding that seemed to be gathering momentum whether she was ready for it or not. Her instructor corrected her more than once, while the unfortunate young man partnered with her endured an afternoon of missed cues and distracted apologies with admirable patience.
By the time the lesson finished, Lysara was thoroughly cross with herself.
She thanked her partner, gathered her things and drove home rather more quickly than she ordinarily would have, arriving only a few minutes after ten-thirty.
Elowen's silver Mercedes was already waiting in the driveway. Garment bags and labelled boxes filled the boot and back seat.
Her mother looked up as Lysara hurried over. "There you are."
"I only just made it."
"So I gathered." Elowen embraced her briefly before stepping back with a smile. "You’ll have to sort out your art supplies another time, but I managed to fit most of your clothes and toiletries.”
She closed the boot with a satisfied nod. "Right. Off we go."
Lysara settled into the passenger seat and checked her phone. She had missed a message from Daevyn, and another from Etienne. "Daevyn sent a carriage to collect us from the Gate," she told her mother absently as she read Etienne’s cheerful account of the events of his day.
She bit her lip as she typed a careful response. She would need to tell both men about the other, she admitted to herself guiltily, and end things with Etienne officially… Though they’d never officially began things. Their relationship had always been a casual friends with the occasional drunken benefit—though she suspected that he had hoped more would develop.
She had always known that if it became more, it would also become complicated. The Winter Court was not receptive to humans, and secrecy was maintained in the human realm. If she married a human, if she told him what she was, then she would be barred from Fae.
The drive to the Fae Gate took barely twenty minutes, but she needed every one of those minutes in order to reply to him something safe, neutral, and honest. Lying by omission was still lying, she corrected as she hit send.
Elowen drew the Mercedes into the small parking area before switching off the engine and filled the silence with chatter about flowers, lace, and color palettes as they crossed the gate into Fae.
Waiting beyond the arch beneath the ancient oaks that crowded close around the narrow road, their branches arching overhead until the familiar stone gateway appeared between them, half-hidden beneath ivy and moss, was the Vale carriage.
The carriage gave no sign of the family’s financial troubles, Lysara thought as they settled into the seats. The midnight-blue lacquer gleamed beneath silver fittings worked into delicate sprays of winter thistle.
"I must admit," Elowen said as she climbed in beside her, smoothing her skirt before settling onto the upholstered seat, "I am a little nervous."
The carriage rolled smoothly forward.
“Don’t be.” Lysara rested one hand lightly against the window, watching the shafts of pale light filtered through the leaves of the ancient silver-barked trees crowding close to the road.
She wondered what her mother would make of Vale House. Whether she would be impressed by the heritage and faded grandeur, or whether she would see the wear that their finances had been unable to hold at bay.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes.
The Vale carriage rolled to a gentle halt beneath the broad stone steps of House Vale, and the coachman hurried down to open the carriage door. Lysara and Elowen climbed the steps together, and for just a moment Lysara paused on the threshold.
It felt strangely presumptuous simply to walk in.
Only yesterday she had been a guest, waiting to be shown through the house by Daevyn. Today she was apparently expected to treat it as though she belonged there. She wasn't quite certain when that change had happened, only that everyone else seemed to have accepted it long before she had.
Elowen glanced at her.
"Everything alright?"
Lysara felt her cheeks heat as she shrugged an awkward shoulder. "I'm not sure whether to knock."
"I imagine," her mother replied gently, "that if they're sending carriages to collect you, they've probably decided you're welcome."
The thought made her smile despite herself.
She drew a quiet breath and stepped over the threshold.
The sound of feminine laughter drifted through the house, carrying along the long central hallway towards the rear of the manor. Lysara followed it, Elowen beside her, until they reached a pair of open doors.
The ballroom stole the breath from her lungs.
"Oh..." The single word escaped before she realised she had spoken aloud.
The floor was fashioned from ancient silver oak, each board glowing softly beneath centuries of careful polishing until it reflected the afternoon light pouring through the tall windows. Three of the walls were lined with immense mirrors whose silver had softened gently with age, the elaborate gilt frames carved not with the cherubs fashionable in Human Realm houses but with climbing winter thistles, frost roses and delicate snow-laden branches so finely worked they seemed almost alive.
Above them the ceiling swept upwards into a magnificent vaulted fresco unlike anything she had ever seen before. Graceful Fae danced amongst drifting clouds beneath a sky filled with wheeling white ravens and pale stars, while tiny winged spirits hid amongst flowering vines with bows drawn, their silver arrows forever aimed at the dancers below. Enchantment lingered within the paintwork, so subtle that the scene seemed to shift whenever the light caught it.
The fourth wall opened entirely onto a broad stone terrace overlooking the formal gardens, where clipped hedges framed fountains of white marble and ancient yew trees stood sentinel beyond.
"It's your first time seeing it?" the wedding planner asked, smiling warmly as she crossed the ballroom towards them. She was an elegant woman somewhere in her fifties, dressed in dove-grey with a leather portfolio tucked beneath one arm. "I'm Adelaide Whitmore. I've had the privilege of arranging weddings for House Vale for nearly thirty years, and I confess I've been looking forward to this one rather a great deal."
"So have we," Elowen replied with a smile.
"We were just deciding whether the ceremony should take place inside or out," Lady Maravelle explained, gesturing towards the terrace where late spring sunlight warmed the stone beneath their feet.
"Both have their advantages." Adelaide opened her notebook as she spoke. "The weather has been remarkably kind this season. We could hold the ceremony in the gardens and create something truly spectacular with towering floral—"
"Simple," Lysara interrupted before she could continue.
Three pairs of eyebrows lifted.
"Simple?" Adelaide repeated.
Lysara nodded, suddenly feeling rather as though she were disappointing everyone before the planning had even begun.
"Daevyn and I spoke about it yesterday. We both agreed we didn't want speeches or bridal parties or endless formalities. Just... a simple ceremony, good food and somewhere for everyone to dance."
Elowen looked faintly horrified. "But darling..."
"No." Lady Maravelle spoke with quiet certainty before Elowen could continue. "She's quite right."
All three women turned towards her.
"A wedding should be elegant, dignified and entirely centred upon the couple themselves." She smiled towards Lysara. "Not an excuse for half the Winter Court to parade its importance."
Relief loosened something inside Lysara's chest.
"We could hold the ceremony on the terrace," Maravelle continued thoughtfully, "and invite everyone into the ballroom afterwards."
Adelaide was busy taking notes. "The terrace dressed in climbing roses would be magnificent..."
"Not roses," Lysara said quickly.
The planner looked up.
"I'd rather use blue thistles and delphiniums."
A smile spread slowly across Maravelle's face. "House Vale flowers."
"They're traditional," Lysara explained, suddenly wondering whether she was being terribly presumptuous. "They're already woven throughout the house."
Adelaide considered it for a moment before nodding. "I can certainly source delphiniums. The thistles may prove a little more difficult..."
"If you require thistles," Maravelle replied with quiet amusement, "we have fields of them behind the house."
Elowen blinked. "Actual fields?"
"Acres."
"Goodness."
Adelaide laughed as she made another note. "Well, that certainly simplifies matters. Music. Aurora has become extremely popular over the past fortnight, though she is becoming increasingly difficult to book as her career gathers momentum..."
"No." The word left Lysara's mouth before she had time to soften it.
Silence settled briefly around the room.
She realised all three women were looking at her.
"I'm sorry," she said more quietly. "I simply don't care for her voice."
Maravelle's expression remained unreadable for the briefest moment before she nodded once. "A chamber ensemble."
Adelaide looked instinctively towards her. "I think that would suit both the house and the occasion."
"I agree," Maravelle said.
"And perhaps a harpist for the ceremony?" Adelaide suggested, making another note.
Lysara smiled faintly.
"I'd like that very much."
"We have several reception menus to choose from," Adelaide moved on. "Everything from light refreshments through to a formal banquet."
Lysara looked almost pleadingly towards her. "Which one does everyone usually choose?"
Before Adelaide could answer, Elowen leaned forward. "Not what everyone usually chooses," she murmured. "Your father is paying."
The planner's smile brightened. "In that case... Our premier selection includes caviar blini with sturgeon roe, dressed crab, quail eggs, black truffle tartlets, butter-poached lobster, foie gras, duck liver parfait, oysters—"
"Perfect." Lysara barely heard the remainder of the menu. Her attention had shifted to the time displayed on her telephone. She was going be late.
She quickly typed a message.
I'm still at House Vale. Could you collect me from the Fae Gate instead?
The reply arrived almost immediately.
Of course, darling.
She slipped the phone back into her pocket.
"There are several versions of the ceremony vows," Adelaide continued, glancing up just long enough to notice where the bride's attention had wandered. She smiled with understanding rather than irritation. "I'll send them through for you and Lord Vale to read together. If you'd prefer, we can leave the finer details for another day."
Lysara looked up gratefully.
"I'd appreciate that."
"And perhaps," Adelaide continued, "we simply walk through where everything will happen."
"That sounds perfect."
The planner closed her tablet with a satisfied smile. "Wonderful. If you'll all follow me."
She led the way towards the open terrace doors, Lady Maravelle falling into step beside her as they began discussing practicalities.
Elowen waited until they had gained several yards before quietly catching hold of Lysara's arm. "What is wrong?"
Lysara blinked. "What?"
"You've scarcely heard a word anyone has said for the last twenty minutes."
She opened her mouth automatically to deny it, then stopped. There was little point. "Mama..."
She looked across the ballroom, watching Lady Maravelle gesture towards the gardens while Adelaide nodded and made another note.
"What if..." The words refused to come.
Elowen waited patiently.
Lysara drew a slow breath. "What if Daevyn is only marrying me because of Papa's money?"
For several moments Elowen said nothing. Her gaze drifted slowly around the ballroom before settling once more upon her daughter. "Do you want to marry him?"
Lysara looked instinctively down at the emerald upon her hand. "Yes." The answer escaped as little more than a whisper. "I think..." She swallowed. "I think he's my soul bond."
"But?"
Tears threatened unexpectedly. "I don't know if he feels the same."
Elowen's expression softened. "My darling..." She reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair gently behind Lysara's ear. "He placed his family's ring upon your finger. He brought you into House Vale. This morning you asked me to bring the rest of your wardrobe because he has already asked you to move into his home." She smiled gently. "Those are not the actions of a man reluctant to marry."
Lysara wasn't entirely convinced. "But what if..."
"What if you're frightened?"
Lysara managed a weak smile.
"I suppose I am."
"I'd be far more concerned if you weren't." Elowen cupped her daughter's cheek. "Cold feet are perfectly normal. Every bride questions herself before the wedding."
She glanced towards the terrace where Lady Maravelle had already begun discussing seating arrangements with Adelaide.
"Now go off to whatever it is that has you fixated on the time."
Lysara frowned.
"What about the planning?"
Elowen laughed softly. "Leave that to the mothers." She kissed her daughter's forehead. "We've been waiting for this sort of excuse for years."
Despite herself, Lysara laughed.
Elowen gave her a gentle nudge towards the door. "Go. By this evening, we'll have organised everything."
Lysara shook her head, smiling despite the ache still lodged in her chest, and quietly slipped away while the three older women cheerfully debated linen colours as though they had known one another for years.