by Iris Walker
“Alrighty then, lovebirds. Let’s get on with it,” Chadwick said, his eyes flashing in excitement. “Now, I am fairly certain that my online certificate has expired by now, since I acquired it during a very intense weekend in Vegas about ten years ago, but I am a firm believer in the spirit of things, so we’ll just assume the big man upstairs doesn’t care about crossing t’s and dotting I’s.” Robin rolled her eyes, her smile widening, and inched her feet closer to Reykon. “Okay then. Do you, Reykon Thraxos, take Robin Wright to be your wife, to have and to hold…” Reykon held Robin’s gaze, all the love, all the excitement, so clear in her beautiful eyes.
“…from this day forward…”
His thoughts slipped back to their first time meeting, when he’d seen her across the bar, in Portland. When he’d thought so strongly that the idiot she was with didn’t even deserve to sit near her, let alone take her out on a date. He remembered the way her mouth tasted, sipping wine on her couch, looking at the photos she’d taken. Looking at what she found beautiful in the world, beautiful enough to look at every single day.
“…for better or for worse…”
He saw all the pain and the suffering they’d been put through, every horrible thing that had happened to her at his hands, and at the hands of those who came from his world. Now, her world. He felt a fierce need to make sure that no suffering ever befell her like that, ever again. Power, real and true and staggering, now thrummed through his veins just as much as it did through hers.
“…in sickness and in health…”
Never again would Calliope manipulate her. Never again would she be forced into servitude, as a prisoner, or a weapon; thanks to a brief visit to the Prism, to Mama Katya, the rogues supported Robin’s existence. They were free, and they weren’t imprisoned, used against each other for leverage as Magnus would have had it. He would shield her from that or die trying. They’d turned their backs on the lives that were set before them, by those who deemed themselves more powerful, and they’d made a path for their own future, one where they called the shots.
“…to love and cherish always.”
Reykon’s crooked grin widened, and his heart hammered with electric anticipation as he nodded. “I do.”
He slipped the ring on Robin’s finger, a small, simple band with magical arcstone in an oval. Practically, it also doubled as a magical charm that would stop her vampire-attracting magic with one twist of the band. Leave it to Chadwick to come up with multipurpose magical jewelry. Arcstone was the ultimate symbol of trust and commitment; if something were to endanger Robin, his ring, a two-toned band of it, would turn red. Chadwick had procured some from God knew where and given it to them as a gift, insisting that they really just needed to tie the knot already. “I do,” he said softly, holding her gaze and showing her how much he truly, deeply, undeniably meant those words. She was nearly shaking, each breath coming just as hard as his, her expression full of so much joy that it spilled over into him.
“Perfect. Robin Wright, do you take Reykon Thraxos as your husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish always?”
She grinned even wider, slipping the ring onto Reykon’s finger, and then gripping his hands with both of hers. “Yes.”
“So, you do?”
“Yes, Chadwick, I do!” she said, standing on her tiptoes and nearly bouncing. Reykon couldn’t help but laugh, and she did, too, as they both leaned forward, caught in the laughter, swaying with each other.
“Alright, alright, settle down. By the powers vested in me by the almighty deity of the internet, I now pronounce you husband and wife, so go ahead and shove your tongue down her throat, Reykon.”
Reykon pulled Robin close and brought their lips together, everything around them fading, every sound, every sight, everything but them, wrapped up in each other’s arms, swaying on the beach under the burning sun. Reykon wound his hand through her hair, holding her, until finally, he broke the kiss and spun her around. The sound of her laughter dancing in the wind was enough to make him soar with joy, and he scooped her up, grinning wider than he’d ever smiled before, carrying her up the path to their little beach shack. Robin let her hand trail on his face, still laughing, both of them giggling like children as Chadwick followed behind like a little puppy, boasting about whatever after party he’d planned.
Lucidia
Lucidia squinted in the sunlight. It was late afternoon, and the sun was just setting, golden beams jutting through the leaves and branches. The air felt muggy and thick against her skin. House Albus was known for their grandiose gardens and lush foliage, but right now, it was a mess. Thick burns and slashes looked like black paint against the greenery, marring the once-pristine garden. Broken glass littered the dirt, although most of it had been cleared from the pathway. They rolled over another branch and Lucidia drew in a sharp breath, the pain in her arm stabbing into her and radiating out across her back. “Sorry about that,” Paxton said, steering the wheelchair down gently.
The wound from Zenecai’s spear hadn’t healed. It wouldn’t heal. It would kill her, and it would kill her soon. Poison from the Legion was incurable, and while their very skilled naturalist had managed to prolong the toxin that coursed through her veins, all Dawn had really done was buy her some more time. Six weeks of time, to be specific. Well, five, considering that most people die within a week of being dosed with the lethal cocktail. “It’s fine,” Lucidia muttered, wiping the sweat from her forehead. She squinted ahead, looking for the rambunctious rug rat that was leading their party. “Hey.” A rustle sounded out, and a moment later, Indigo Draxos’s head popped out of the tall, unruly grass, her deep purple eyes scowling at Lucidia. Lucidia tipped her chin up at an angle. “Second branch, red apple.”
The little girl’s eyes flared, and she loaded an arrow lightning fast, taking a split second to make her aim. The arrow whooshed through the garden and pierced the apple on the side, sending it twirling to the left and rolling down a bed. Lucidia tsked her tongue, a sly smile on her lips. “Leaning right again. You aim with your eyes, not your arrow.”
Indigo’s eyes narrowed and she ran through the bushes, retrieving her fallen prize. “She’s just like you, you know,” Pax muttered, shaking his head.
Lucidia turned, giving him a weak smile. “She’s a little brat.”
“Exactly,” he joked.
Lucidia drew in a deep breath, trying her best to ignore how it rattled in her lungs. More and more indicators, more signs that her days were numbered popped up like weeds. First it was the aching joints, then the spider veins, and now… well, everything in her was falling apart. Complete organ failure. She knew that it was probably her last visit outside. And the sun was stabbing her eyeballs, the air was too humid, and she couldn’t even walk on her own goddamn legs. An ashy taste spread out in her mouth and she closed her eyes for just a moment. Something moved in front of her, and she hauled her eyes open, a leftover reflex from a life of fighting, of being a prime warrior. Instead, Indigo stood in front of her, an inquisitive, beady-eyed look on her face. “Does it hurt?”
Lucidia nodded. “A little.”
“What was it like?” she asked with bold, childlike curiosity.
“Hey,” Pax started.
Lucidia gave a weak wave of her hand. “It’s alright.”
Pax rolled them over to the remains of a bench, half broken, which was just as well because Lucidia’s wheelchair wouldn’t have fit next to it otherwise. Indigo plopped down, letting her bow and quiver fall carelessly to the side. Her little legs swung down from the bench, kicking at the air. “Ask away,” Lucidia said, looking at the trampled remains of House Albus’s bountiful garden.
“Were you scared?” she asked.
Lucidia scoffed, the motion sending a sharp, aching pain through her body. “Of course.”
“Really?”
Lucidia shifted slightly, looking to Indigo. “I watched a spear hurtle through the air a
nd I knowingly jumped in front of it. There’s not a person on this earth that wouldn’t be scared.”
“But you saved him,” Indigo murmured. “You’re a hero.”
Lucidia nodded, letting out a controlled breath. “I did my duty, and I would do it again. It’s what we’re called to do.”
“I thought heroes didn’t get scared,” Indigo said, her eyes searching the ground.
“Everybody gets scared,” Lucidia muttered bitterly.
Indigo’s vibrant eyes searched Lucidia’s face. “Are you scared right now?”
“Why would I be scared?”
Indigo paused for a moment, her legs swinging a tick faster as she pulled the petals off a flower she’d snagged. Her eyes turned to the ground, and she gave a little shrug. “You’re dying, right?”
Lucidia’s heart shivered, a little tremble at that notion, but she pushed it down, her tried-and-true response. “Yep.”
“I saw people dying,” Indigo muttered. “Back home.”
“You saw people being murdered, and I bet it was horrible. But this is different.”
Indigo’s little eyebrows pulled together. “How is it different?”
“When you know it’s coming, it’s calmer. There’s nothing anybody can do, so I’ll just lay down, and then I’ll fall asleep, and that’ll be that.”
Indigo was quiet for a few moments. After a long pause, she gave a little shake of her head. “I don’t believe you.”
That makes two of us.
A silence slipped between them until Lucidia saw Verna Strexos, one of the strongbloods that had stepped into the role of teacher for the refugee children caught in the war. She had an impatient look on her face and tapped her wrist twice. Lucidia jerked her chin up at the woman, sending her back to whatever class she’d wrangled up. “Time for science.”
Indigo wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like science.”
“Sounds like a personal problem,” Lucidia chuckled. “Go.”
She gave Lucidia a sour look. “It doesn’t help me fight.”
Lucidia raised an eyebrow. “I saved the master of our house, and I took my science classes so I’d know how to properly calculate the trajectory of a spear. Now go. And pay attention.”
Indigo let out a frustrated huff and stomped down the path, disappearing through the plants.
Just as the garden swallowed her up, Lucidia saw the girl’s weapon left carelessly on the bench and called after her, reaching for it. The movement sent a wave of pain through her, and Lucidia nearly doubled over, groaning and clutching her arm. Black stars ballooned at the corners of her vision and she felt a wave of dizziness and panic crash over her. “Get Dawn,” Lucidia choked out, gasping in another breath.
Robin
It was the happiest day of her life. After their small and legally questionable wedding, they’d retreated to Chadwick’s beach shack, where a magical reception had been prepared for them. And by magical, she meant casted strobe lights and self-pouring drinks. They danced, just the two of them, and Chadwick with his strange, self-conjured dancing partner that had in fact twirled Robin a few times, until the sun set, and then they’d danced some more after that. In the mirror dimension, there wasn’t a care in the world. Occasionally, they saw figures from the human world exploring the beach, walking through the wreckage that this shack was over there, but nobody could hear them and more importantly, nobody could see them.
It was a dream come true.
A private retreat, just the two of them, safe from any and everybody that would wish them harm. Safe from Charlemagne, the caster that wanted to deliver her on a silver platter to Xerxes Onassis, the yet to be seen supervillain of caster-world. Safe from Darian Xander, the vampire master that had held her hostage after the magical transformation that had turned her into a conduit, a being capable of transferring vampiric energy, which, apparently, was super concentrated compared to the human stuff. She supposed you needed a stronger battery to get through eons of life. But her newfound abilities also meant that she could turn vampires back into humans, and that she could also push energy into vampires. Or strongbloods, for that matter, which she’d discovered after her friend/bodyguard Harley had nearly died at the hands of Charlemagne. Robin had given her the transfusion of a lifetime, literally.
But an unwanted side effect of the whole thing was that she was now like catnip to the vampires. Calliope, her birth mother and the woman who’d sacrificed her life for Robin six weeks ago, had made her with a strange magnetism to vampires and strongbloods. And that magnetism had gotten her attacked on numerous occasions. Supposedly, when Darian’s spy had transported her to the winter stronghold, it took every strongblood in his army to stop the vampires from devouring her. Add it to the list of things that nobody knew about conduits. That was why everyone wanted to find her so badly. She was a new race, which was an exciting event that happened every few millennia or so, apparently. Even though she’d been thrown into the supernatural world over three months ago, she still knew next to nothing about the intricacies of their societal workings. With everyone looking for her, intending to use her as a weapon of mass destruction, it was important that they sat out of the fight. Not to mention, her husband was now an interplanar fugitive, boasting the blueprints for strongblood’s true strength stolen straight from the big caster library by Father Chadwick over there. So if they were caught, it would either be for their DNA or for their company.
But right now, Robin wasn’t worried about that. Right now, her eyes were fixed on Reykon’s dark hair, his silhouette, gleaming in the moonlight. Chadwick had passed out, or something of that sort, leaving the two newlyweds to their own devices. The deck overlooked the entire beach, empty save for a couple of campfires an entire plane away. The waves roared, crashing against the beach, glistening silver underneath the moonlight. She leaned against the railing and brought a hand to his hair, running her fingers through it, letting it trail on his shoulder. He was warm underneath her, like a fire, constantly burning. “What are you thinking about?” she murmured, watching his face.
He turned to her, flashing her a crooked grin. “About how I’m the luckiest man alive.”
Robin laughed softly and inspected her ring in the moonlight. Colors danced off it in some impossible visual effect. “The luckiest man for the luckiest woman… we make a good team.”
“That we do.”
Reykon leaned his elbows against the railing, letting out a long breath. “Sometimes I still think I’m dreaming, you know. That I’ll wake up and Magnus will call me to the grand hall to be sent on another mission.”
Robin nodded. “Do you miss it?” ‘It’ being his home. House Demonte, the vampire headquarters led by the former master Magnus Demonte. He was the first person Robin ever turned into a human, on the night of Jadzia’s Comet. Now, he’d been lost in the wind, unheard of, though Robin had her suspicions that he would show up soon. He didn’t seem like the type to die easily, despite his newfound mortality. Since Reykon had left his home, it had been pillaged by casters and then overtaken by the particularly evil master of a satellite Demonte house. Virtually everybody inside of the stronghold had been massacred, and those lucky enough to be left alive weren’t coming out and announcing their presence anytime soon.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “It wasn’t all bad, you know. And it was still home.”
“I miss mine, too,” she said quietly, thinking back to her sleepy apartment in Portland, the décor all pleasantly mismatched, her favorite photos lining the wall. “Even though living alone isn’t the pinnacle of joy.”
Reykon turned to face her, his excited smile beaming even through the shadows. “I got you a gift.”
Her heart ticked up when he looked at her like that, when his amazingly ever-present happiness could pierce through the worst situation. “I got you something, too.”
Reykon’s eyes flared and he ducked into the shack to find his gift. Robin walked over to the front of the house, and pulled open the garage, getting the b
undle of canvas from the old box she’d hidden it in. When she returned to the deck, Reykon was lounging around the fire, holding a small box, wrapped with a satin bow.
“Yours looks better than mine,” she admitted.
He grinned, and Robin sat down next to him, feeling the crisp air run over her, the taste of wine still sweet in her mouth. Reykon held the box out. “It’s not fancy, or anything. But…”
Robin shot him a look and then took the box, running her finger over the ribbon and admiring it. She slipped her finger under the edge of the box and popped the lid off. Her heart leapt in excitement as she looked at the sleek black camera, the exact model she’d had for professional shots. “What? How did you?”
“Took a trip to the mainland with Chadwick to get it,” he said. “If it’s not the right-”
Robin cut his words off with a kiss, pressing her lips to his and pushing her body against him, nearly toppling the chair over in the process. When she finally pulled back, she felt Reykon’s crooked grin on her mouth. “We’ll have to do gifts more often,” he breathed, laughing softly.
Robin grinned and pulled it out of the box, studying the camera, feeling the weight of it in her hands. “Thank you, Rey. This is… this is perfect.”
“Don’t get too excited, because I’m expecting some excellent shots to come out of that thing,” he said. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
She laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? Hopefully I don’t disappoint.”
“I don’t think you could,” he whispered.
Robin forced herself to put the camera down and picked up her misshapen canvas bundle. She drew in a long breath. “I know that we’re safe here, and that there’s no fighting from here on out, but…”
