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And just as Elide was about to interrupt, it seemed that Lorcan could not hold back any longer.

Only a blink of Vernon’s cruel eyes and a breath of silence betrayed his surprise. If only for a moment, before he started laughing uproariously.

“Your wife?” He turned his eyes to Elide again. “Oh, niece, tell me you are not still playing this ridiculous part. It is beyond credibility at this point. You, married to him? I’ve heard your tall-tales before—but this repeat certainly leaves them all in the dust.”

Elide let him laugh himself out before she brought her fisted hands in front of her, out from behind her back. Then opened them. Peered at the sapphire gem mounted atop the small gold band on her fourth finger (“Your ‘something blue’,” Aelin’s warm voice echoed in her head).

“I’m surprised you didn’t feel the ring when he broke your nose.” She looked up, gazing straight at the bruise blooming on Vernon’s nose, then glanced over again at her husband’s blood-crusted knuckles—where a matching gold band indeed shimmered on his own fourth finger. 

“But, then again, you never were as observant or clever as you thought yourself. And with my marriage, your power over my life officially ends.” Her gaze hardened.

“So you were jealous. Of my father. Jealous of his strength. His talent. Of his wife.” Vernon opened his mouth, but Elide lifted a hand. “I am not done yet.”

—-

It had been a happy coincidence they had wed before she faced her uncle again.

She had not needed the power the act gave, but she treasured it all the same.

As she treasured how it all had come about.

—-

Lorcan had not Elide’s craft for throwing words like darts, nor her courage in voicing the hardest truths. He did, however, have a penchant for provoking creatures who wanted to stab him repeatedly. This was not more apparent than his most recent close brush with death.

After more than five hundred years, it probably should have made him more careful. Instead, it just made him train harder, carry more weapons, and care less about all the people he pissed off.

Five hundred years, however, that he had not had to worry greatly about anyone but himself. And also chose not to. No one had ever worried about him...and it was easier not to care, to not get tied down by relationships and all the feelings they required.

Before recently, the closest he had ever come to caring about someone had been with...well, he didn’t like to think about her anymore. That hadn’t been love, after all.

But dying atop that horse--on that battlefield--as Elide raced to save them both from the dam? That was love.

Lorcan had not been scared of dying in that moment. He had not cared about himself anymore. Only that Elide did not die trying to save him. Only that she got away.

It came down to how afraid he had been on that beach. How afraid he had been on that hill, in those woods by Doranelle. How afraid he had been in that boat on that underground lake, even while pissed off and arguing with her.

He had not been that afraid of anything before he met Elide.

And, he realized now, he did not want to be alone anymore. He did not want to be alone with his fears and his dreams. (He had not had dreams before Elide, either.)

But Lorcan did not have Elide’s penchant for weaving words with care.

So when he woke up in her bed their first shared morning after, he did not stop to think when he looked at her and beheld her loving sleepy morning smile. (A smile he knew no one else had ever seen before. Just as he knew about all the other  new emotions and sounds and words that she had gifted him last night.)

He did not stop to think and bite his tongue. Instead he decided that he did not want to be afraid alone anymore.

“Marry me?”  Lorcan asked her that morning.

—-

“Marry me?” He asked her, with that hard gravely tone she loved. With clear nervousness, too.

“I want to come to Perranth with you...after the war. I want to stay with you, after the war. I want to marry you—but I do not want to wait until after the war.” He searched her eyes, holding her gaze tight. Elide tried to stay focused on his eyes, her vision blurring as tears slid down her face.

“If these last few weeks have taught me anything, it is that we might not have until after the war. Gods, Fenrys could put a knife in my gut while I sleep one night and I would be none the wiser.” She let a wet laugh loose at that last statement, and Lorcan, encouraged, continued.

“I do not wish to be without you anymore. I want to live with you, Elide. I love you and I want to be with you. For however long our days are.”

“Come to Perranth with me,” she told him, her smile broadening. An answer to his plea. “Stay with me. And yes, marry me, Lorcan Salvaterre.” Elide watched as his own eyes grew wet with tears. She wiped a few away.

He pretended to seriously ponder the requests for a moment before he grinned broadly and replied, “Yes, I will marry you, Elide Lochan. Soon, here, before all our court. Even if some of them threaten me during the ceremony.”

“We are missing a few...but that can be remedied in a second, bigger ceremony after the war. Manon is not here, after all, to do some of the threatening” she teased him back, certain her grin could not be wider. Then giggled a heartbeat later when she realized something else.

“What?” Lorcan asked, scanning her face.

“It is only that, I will be Lady of Perranth. If you marry me, you will take my family name.”

Another heartbeat of silence. Ridiculous, and yet—

“Lord Lorcan Lochan?”

She waited, a wince on her face.

He only laughed harder. It was the most beautiful sound.

“I will marry you, Elide Lochan, and use it every damn day with pride, even when the whole kingdom laughs to hear it. And when we are wed, I will bind my life to yours, so we never have to be alone. Never again.”

Elide had thought her eyes were blurry before. She could hardly see Lorcan now, the tears fell so hard.

“If you would like that,” he added gently. She marveled at what he offered. He was ready to give up his immortality for her, for them.

“I would like that more than anything,” she told him, smiling so brightly her cheeks hurt. “And we will have that second ceremony after the war, for all those who can’t make it now.”

“Good.” Lorcan told her, “Especially since we will be able to perform the bonding ceremony then as well.”

“...what bond?”

“I think we’re mates, Elide.”

—

As the event was so rushed, she was not very surprised at the contention between them on their very quickly cobbled together guest list.

Aelin and Rowan, of course, were givens. Gavriel, too, was not to be argued over. Fenrys—

“Absolutely not.”

“He’s part of your cadre! He’s blood-sworn to Aelin! He—“

“—almost killed you, if you recall.”

“—to which Gavriel healed me. And he was about to kill you, before I saved you, if you’ll recall.”

“All the more reason not to have him there.” Lorcan’s frown and crossed arms were fearsome then to behold.

But she had not been scared of him in a very long time.

“...we will regret it if he’s not there. He has more than made up for things, also. Please, Lorcan.”

If there was one thing, one person, he could not refuse, it was her. Elide hid her grin as she watched his resolve slacken.

“....fine. But he gets told last minute or he gets told never.”

Thankyouthankyou, she whispered in his ear, stretching on her tiptoes—hands behind his neck—in order to drag Lorcan down toward her. Elide left a soft kiss on his stubbled cheek and another at the corner of his lips before she let go.

“We are also inviting Yrene, because she saved your life—do not argue!—and also her husband, because I can’t bear to separate them for this. I would invite Manon as well but she’s currently too far away.”

“...any more guests who would like to break my limbs one by one?”

“Yrene does not want to break you back into pieces, especially after all it took for her to put you back together! But yes, that’s all the company that I can think of, for now. But—”

“Good.”

And then he kissed her. Soft and tender, an apology and a promise all in one.

Elide, ever proud of her ability to wield words as well as her fiancé threw his daggers or hatchet, could not remember what else she had been about to say.

“...He’s going to laugh when he realizes, you know,” Lorcan whispered quietly, a little despondently.

“I know.” Elide pressed another soft kiss to his cheek, then curled her body into him, safe and comfortable within his arms and broad chest. She fit perfectly. “But there’s no rule against the bride giving a laughing guest a good punch to the gut after the ceremony, however.”

—-

“I’m glad I’m able to be here for this,” Aelin said, smiling faintly as she adjusted Elide’s gown (“Your something borrowed,” she had said when Elide had protested). 

Elide turned her worried stare from the tent wall to her queen’s—her friend’s—eyes, reading in them what Aelin dared not bring up on so happy a morning.

Aelin was thrilled that she would get to see Elide married before she used herself to forge the Lock. Before she sacrificed her life for them all.

“...Well, this is only a small ceremony. Manon and so many others will miss it...I’ve convinced Lorcan to do a second, larger ceremony in Orynth, after the war—when all those missing are able to come, too. I’ll need you as my maid of honor,” Elide said, grinning at Aelin. Or she tried to, anyway, through her pre-wedding jitters.

I need you to be alive for it, the words Elide left unspoken. She grasped the queen’s warm hands between her own.

“...of course,” Aelin replied, her tone soft. “I will try my best to be there.”

I don’t know if I can promise it, Aelin’s own unspoken words.

“I need you there. After all, who else will join Manon in promising Lorcan grave injury if he slips up?” Elide gave Aelin’s hands a gentle squeeze.

“Fenrys, no doubt, would be glad of that honor.”

“Fenrys should count his lucky stars he’s even invited. I told Gavriel to wake him ten minutes beforehand. That’s as much heads-up as Lorcan will allow. You, on the other hand, are graciously invited to both ceremonies. Even if you end up giving him a black eye before the morning  is done.” 

Aelin paused for only a second as she beheld Elide’s serious frown. Before bursting into laughter.

Elide’s frown melted quickly as she joined her.

—-

Barely a year ago Lorcan had despised casual touches. He had never stayed with anyone long enough for any level of comfort and had never desired it, either. Lorcan had thought himself content to explore the world alone, viciously destroying cities on Maeve’s orders as he went. It was what he had done best for centuries. It was all he had wanted.

As he looked back now, Elide’s early cutting remarks hit true: Lorcan had been grossly unhappy for a very long time, and very good at pretending otherwise.

That was then, though.

As he looked at Elide now, a grin stretched across her beautiful face and her small hands clutched in his own trembling large ones, Lorcan no longer had to pretend at happiness. They stood before a small collection of their friends in a cold tent in the middle of the mountains, barely a hint of dawn’s light peaking over the horizon…and he was endlessly pleased at the casual way her hands squeezed his. At the way she smiled at him. At the soft way they slid rings onto each others’ fingers and promised one other a lifetime worth of commitment.

A lifetime. Once, Lorcan would have been horrified at the idea of a mortal lifespan, would have scoffed at bargaining away his fae years down to nothing, would have snorted at binding his life to a human’s.

Today he gently grasped Elide’s cheeks between his palms and paused to take in the moment before sealing their vows with a tender kiss.

When they both withdrew, Elide let out a delightful laugh. Lorcan found himself smiling more broadly, chuckling along with her in pure relief of the moment.

“I love you,” she told him softly, not for the first time that day, a gentle smile gracing her face. A real smile, too, not  like those she’d faked for their troupe scheme all those months ago. When they had merely pretended at being married.

Now they were truly wed and Lorcan couldn’t help but  repeatedly wonder at his luck. Now he would get to enjoy Elide’s smiles, her craftiness, her warmth, her gusto for life, for the rest of his days.

Elide’s face was blurry for only a moment before he felt her fingers at his eyes, brushing away tears.

Lorcan clutched her wrists tight and nodded, his throat tight. He couldn’t get the reciprocal words she deserved past the lump in his throat, but he trusted she knew he meant them. And that later, in private, he would say them over and over again, for all the times he hadn’t.

A lifetime with Elide? Just the one?

That was certainly leagues and leagues better than centuries alone in his unhappiness.

In fact, today, on his wedding day, publicly displaying so many casual touches and pronouncing his love for all their friends—but mostly for his bride, his mate—to hear, Lorcan had never felt more joy.

—-

(The ceremony was interrupted only once: when a bedraggled and half-asleep Fenrys staggered in—only to be dragged out again after his mock whispered comment of, “Why was Lorcan invited to this? He ruins joyful occasions .”)

(Though the dragging out again waited long enough for Elide to declare, “Why did we invite you to this? Your black eye is ruining the view,” right before forsaking her earlier plan and punching him in the nose instead.)

(The groom merely grinned and gently wiped his bride’s knuckles with his tunic.)

—-

Though it was a thousand times more grand in scope than the first, Elide thought their Orynth post-war wedding much less intimate the one they had had in the mountains in dust-covered clothing.

She also felt the keen lack of those beloved that had died during the war; Gavriel, amongst many others, was a constant dull & aching reminder in her chest (so she treasured that he had been there for the first ceremony).

However, the current pompous ceremony & celebration afterward did have a few perks: one, that Manon was able to finally attend, repeatedly threatening bodily harm upon Lorcan if he hurt Elide; and two, seeing Lord Lorcan Locan be forced to interact with the common people, to talk with the many human subjects that lived around and in Orynth. Many of whom, in fact, had traveled from Perranth to see the ceremony--especially those who had been working hard with their new lord to rebuild Perranth for many weeks now.

Elide stopped in her conversation with Yrene to giggle from afar as she watched a small child tug at Lorcan’s pants. As he bent down awkwardly to try to be at the boy’s height, she saw another child take a running leap into Lorcan’s startled arms. He barely managed to catch the second child, the look on his face one of utter bewilderment. Elide laughed louder, earning a look of desperation from her husband.

“Excuse me,” she told Yrene, “But I think someone is in need of rescuing,” gesturing toward the delightful scene before their eyes. The young girl around Lorcan’s neck was now tugging at his long hair, while the boy seemed intent on telling Lorcan a story with one of his toys, though Elide wasn’t close enough to hear the words.

“Of course,” Yrene said, smiling, her hand gently resting on the swell of her abdomen.

Just before Elide reached Lorcan, an older adult managed to wrangle both children away, shooting an apologetic look at him before the three faded into the crowd. As he stood tall again (Elide felt a hot bolt of desire race through her at exactly how towering he was), Lorcan looked half relieved, half stunned at what had transpired.

“I was about to rescue you, my lord, but it seems I was too late,” Elide teased, reaching out to smooth a few new wrinkles in Lorcan’s fancy tunic. Very fine clothes for a very fine day, Elide thought with another smile.

“I—actually, I was in fact need of rescue, my lady.” Lorcan replied honestly. He then heaved a large sigh, his stiff posture relaxing into an exaggerated slouch. “I don’t know how parents do it, really; it all seems so exhausting.”

“With the right partner, I suppose,” Elide said, her expression softening. Lorcan’s own expression softened in response.

“Would you…would you want that someday?” With me, he seemed to ask—even though they were now twice married and bonded to boot.

“Yes. I would. Someday, perhaps,” Elide said, stretching to cup his cheek with her hand. “I would very much like that with you.”

“It…would be nice to provide someone a good home. Something they could come back to,” Lorcan replied softly. All the things he hadn’t had growing up.

Elide felt tears once again crowding her eyes. For the umpteenth time on this beautiful day, for the countless time in the past few months.

“It would be wonderful. Just like you. My husband, my mate, my soul-bonded partner. In this life and the next,” she told him softly.

Lorcan grinned at her through tears of his own. They gazed quietly at each for another long moment.

Abruptly, Elide found her sense of gravity shifting as Lorcan suddenly gathered her in her arms and started walking briskly back to the castle.

“Lorcan?!? Lorcan! What are you doing?”

“Taking my beautiful wife, perfect mate, goddess divine, to start our someday.”