Page 75 of Blood Singer

"I lied." His lips curved into a small smile, and through the bond I felt his satisfaction at keeping me in the dark. "Come with me. There's something I want to show you."

"Show me what?" But he was already tugging me toward the door, his hand warm and possessive around mine.

"You'll see," was all he said. Rhucard's knowing grin as we passed him did nothing to ease my confusion.

We moved through the castle corridors, taking a route I didn't recognize. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting golden patterns on the stone floor. Kavan's thumb traced circles on the back of my hand, a nervous gesture I'd never seen from him before.

"Kavan," I said, trying to pull him to a stop. "What's going on? You're acting strange."

"Am I?" He glanced back at me, and the vulnerability in his golden eyes made my breath catch. "Maybe I'm just nervous."

"Nervous about what?" My heart started racing, picking up on his emotions through our bond. Anticipation. Hope. A fierce determination that felt like dragonfire in my veins.

"You'll see," he said again, and then we stepped through a doorway into the gardens.

I stopped dead.

The garden had been transformed. Silver ribbons hung from the trees, catching the afternoon light and scattering patterns of shadow and brightness across the grass. The fountain where we'd stood that night, where he'd finally admitted what I meant to him, was decorated with flowers that only bloomed on Drakhone, their petals a deep blue that matched the sky.

Standing near the fountain were Sanyra and Amy, both dressed in formal gowns that somehow managed to be elegant and practical at once. Rhucard lounged against a tree, no longer grinning but watching us with genuine warmth. Murdette stood off to the side next to Artis, her silver hair gleaming in the sunlight, her expression soft with emotion.

Even Binwee had made it back from her new assignment, the little blue Framaddi practically vibrating with excitement next to Murdette and Artis.

"What is this?" I whispered, my hand tightening on Kavan's. I felt his nervous energy spike, felt his heart racing despite his outward calm.

"This," Kavan said, turning to face me fully, "is our wedding."

My breath caught. "Kavan—"

"I know Drakhoni don't have mating ceremonies," he said, his voice low and intense. "I know the bond is enough, that we don't have traditions or formal declarations. But you deserve more than a private claiming in my chambers. You deserve to be honored. Celebrated. And I want everyone to know that you're mine, and I'm yours, in a way that honors both of our cultures."

I felt the depth of his emotion. Love and possessiveness and a fierce determination to give me this moment. To show me, in front of witnesses, that I was his queen. His partner. His everything.

"You planned this," I said, my voice shaking. "All of this. The decorations, getting everyone here—"

"I've been planning it for weeks," he admitted. "I wanted to give you something that was ours. Something that blended your traditions with mine."

Tears pressed hot and insistent behind my eyes. "I don't know what to say."

"Say yes." His hands came up to cup my face, thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. "Say you'll stand here with me and let me claim you in front of everyone. Say you'll be my mate, my queen, my wife in every tradition that matters."

"Yes," I whispered, and I felt his relief, his joy, his overwhelming love. "Yes, of course yes."

He kissed me then, soft and sweet and full of promise, and I heard Binwee make a happy chirping sound that made me laugh against his lips.

When we pulled apart, Murdette stepped forward holding a small wooden box. Her eyes were suspiciously bright, and when she spoke, her voice carried across the garden with ceremonial weight.

"In human tradition," she said, "couples exchange rings as a symbol of their commitment. But Drakhoni have their own tradition—the exchange of wings."

She opened the box, revealing two delicate pieces of jewelry. They were crafted to look like dragon wings in flight, made from some metal that shifted between gold and silver depending on how the light hit it. Beautiful, intricate, absolutely perfect.

"These were commissioned by King Kavan from the finest craftsman in Argia," Murdette continued, and I looked at Kavan in wonder. "They're designed to be worn as pendants, close to the heart. When a Drakhoni gives their wings to another, they're saying they trust that person to carry their heart, their soul, their very essence."

Kavan took one of the pendants from the box, his hands steady despite the emotion rolling through our bond. "I wanted you to have something that showed everyone what you mean to me."

"Kavan," I whispered, but I couldn't find the words. Couldn't express the overwhelming love and gratitude flooding through me.

I bowed my head, and he fastened the pendant around my neck with careful, reverent movements. The metal was warm against my skin, and through the bond I felt the significance of what he was giving me. His trust, his love, his absolute commitment to our future together.