It was true that the Rift-kin were quite comfortable with us now. If anything, the valley had prospered under Visca’s protection and Wyn’s constant efforts to use her bloodwitchery for the good of the people.

“Well now, potential mutiny and celebrations aside, we’ve got some other points that need to be taken care of.” Visca nodded to Cirrien. “Like the protection detail for Lady Cirrien, since I should return to Heartsfjord soon and get those new legions trained up properly. But Koryek here would be a good fit for the captain of her guard.”

The vampire knight wore a cocky smirk on his chiseled face.

The last thing I wanted was handsome Koryek guarding Cirrien’s door day and night. Ancestors, I should have bought her a different book, one that was a little less detailed on the endless virtues of the non-fiend vampire.

However, saying no would make me look like a pathetic wet sack in the eyes of my lovely wife. I didn’t think the sharp intelligence behind those eyes would miss my jealousy.

“Cirrien may have whomever she pleases as her guards,” I said, without clenching my fangs—truly a miracle.

Had it really been only two days ago that I’d believed my bride would be drowning in poppy dreams, and I’d been fully prepared to lock her in the tower with Koryek at her beck and call?

The ancestors laughed at me. I wanted her in my tower, in my chambers, in my bed… I wanted to be the sword between Cirrien and the wolves.

“Choose whomever you would like,” I told my wife. She had been listening intently, her arm still laced through mine, but had made no effort to speak. “Visca is indeed responsible for ensuring the new legions are well-trained, but any other vampire under my command is at your disposal. And… if you would prefer humans, many live here and would be honored to be your guardians, although I would prefer you select at least one vampire. We can smell the wargs much more clearly, you see.”

She gave me one of those glances, peeking up under those inexplicably dark lashes. Her hand moved quickly, spelling something indecipherable.

“The guard is tomorrow’s problem,” Wyn said blithely. “Don’t you fear, I’ve got an entire list of things to be taken care of that will likely consume the better part of this week, so you might as well go in there and have some wine and cake now before you’re utterly ravaged by responsibility.”

Cirrien gave her a dry look and signed incomprehensibly.

“Anyways, dear, the cake is for you and the other humans. Now that you’re lawfully wedded and the Accords have been met, you can meet them, of course. I don’t anticipate any bids for freedom now. You’ll simply be returned to us, and it would be rather embarrassing for you to be gathered up like a wayward child.”

Cirrien rolled her eyes and she signed sharply, exhaling in exasperation.

“I can guess very well what you’re upset about, but really, Cirrien dear, you must see it from our point of view. In fact, my wife would be pleased to tell you all about it.”

Visca eyeballed Wyn narrowly, but my advisor gave no sign that she noticed.

“And here we are, the grand ballroom. We haven’t had an excuse to use this room in ages, so do forgive my exuberance in the decorating…”

Wyn shoved open the double pair of ebony doors, revealing the ballroom with crystals glimmering overhead, the gleaming black floor, the endless wreaths of vines and roses.

And the crowd of mixed vampires and humans—the legion captains, the human minor nobility of the Rift, all come specifically to see the new Lady for themselves and witness the signed documents.

As Cirrien gazed at the sudden and unexpected crowd with wide eyes, Wyn stepped into the room with her arms held wide.

“The Accords have been honored! For ten long years we have waited, and now our hopes are fulfilled and our ambitions anchored. People of the Rift, welcome your Lady, Cirrien lai Darran, wife of Lord Bane Lifegiver.”

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Chapter 9 Cirri

It took less than ten minutes for the nobility of the Rift to realize that there wasn’t going to be much small talk between us. One of the ladies, an older woman in pink, frilly satin for the occasion, had recoiled slightly as I signed to her, my hands still covered in blood and dirt.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she said, pressing one hand to her chest. “How kind of our Lord to… offer you such an advancement despite your, ahh… hardship.”

Visca appeared on my left, pressing a wine glass into my hands and giving the woman a toothy grin. “I think she’ll manage.”

“Indeed.” The human noble glanced at me askance, and gracefully extricated herself.

Clutching the glass with white knuckles, terrified I would drop and shatter such an expensive vessel, I took a sip of the pale, bubbly wine and silently pondered whether it was appropriate to hide myself behind a tapestry until this was all over.

Bane had been monopolized by the men as soon as we entered the room. I felt their approving gazes on occasion, tempered by skepticism as the human women shared their discovery that I did not speak. Although they were all low nobility, each with a fel in their name, I wasn’t their kind despite the lai in mine.

The fact remained that my inability to speak aloud didn’t figure into the greater workings of this union. They got to keep their Lord and protector now that we were wed in vampire custom; the men had relaxed as soon as Wyn’s proclamation was announced, the women had fluttered fans open and breathed sighs of relief. Wyn herself had been stolen by the keep’s steward, one of her omnipresent lists in hand.

Soon enough, I had been left to linger alone near one of the columns, braided with boughs of roses so thick I couldn’t lean against it for fear of the thorns, my hands still stinging, and Visca had come to rescue me from boredom.

“They’re a bit like those Serissan birds, aren’t they?” she asked, sipping from a metal cup as she eyed the nobles. I appreciated that the vampiric guests did not drink blood from clear glasses. “What are they called? Peacocks? Decorative, obnoxious, and rather useless overall.”

I snorted into my wine. Indeed. I had a hard time picturing these frilly women defending their own fortresses from the blood-maddened Forians, when I’d grown up around women who ate, slept, and breathed with their weapons.

“This is only a small fraction of them; Wyn invited the busybodies to witness, and to give them something to gossip over besides the state of our legions,” Visca confided in an undertone. “And my apologies in advance. This is not the last celebration you’ll have to endure.”

I gave her a long-suffering look.

“Fortunately for you, it’s only one more, really. The feast will be held in one of the larger towns, and all the Rift-kin are invited. They’re a superstitious lot, these valley folk. They’ve got to lay eyes on the bride, sit her in a throne of holly and primrose, and touch her with cold iron before they’ll accept the marriage as legitimate.”

My brows raised of their own accord. Cold iron had gone out of fashion several thousand years ago for the rest of the country, when the last of the Fae had died or disappeared. Even holly and primrose were considered more decorative than necessity now.

“No, there’s no Fae here. Long dead, those twisted bastards. We would know.” Visca’s fangs gleamed. “We lived in their underground cities for the last few centuries.”

I glanced at the knots of humans, the women who congratulated Bane from a safe distance, the curl of a lip or flaring of nostrils as they looked up into his warped face.

He was magnanimous about it, giving no sign that he saw or acknowledged their fear and disgust of him.