Earth's Hope (38 page)
“No. Makes it hard to trust this one.”
“Trust it, lass. I doona sense evil anywhere near.”
“I hope you’re right.” She switched to mind speech. “Dewi!”
“Yes, child.”
“We’re having the ceremony outside. Where are you and the other dragons?”
“Right outside the great room windows on the terrace.” The dragon paused a beat. “It’s raining. Are you certain?”
“Yes. I want you and Nidhogg and your brood and the other dragons to be a part of my joy.”
Aislinn heard Dewi’s trumpeting through the thick manor house walls. “See.” She tilted her chin. “I just made her very happy. Come on.” She clucked to Rune and made her way to the front door where she turned. “Outside, everyone,” she cried. “I want to get to the feast, and that cake.”
“Nay, you just want to get to Fionn’s body,” someone called.
“That too,” she said, spun, and marched down the stairs and into a light drizzle. Dewi spread her wings and Aislinn took up residence beneath one as the men went to get Fionn, and the guests deployed themselves near her and the dragons. Light spilled through the manor house windows from candles, and mage lights bobbed all around her, adding illumination to the terrace.
“Happy?” Dewi bent her head around so she was looking at Aislinn.
“Very.”
“Good. We might have…dalliances,” the dragon said sagely, “but they can’t take the place of our one true love.”
Aislinn considered sniping that if anyone should know, it was Dewi, but she kept her mouth shut.
The black youngling, who’d grown to two-thirds the size of his parents, made his way to her. “Thank you for wanting us next to you and not on the far side of that window.” He pointed with a wingtip.
“How could I not?” She smiled at him. “I remember you from when you were this”—she held her hands a foot apart—“big.”
“And I remember playing with your hair,” he countered. “I loved it because it reminded me of fire.”
Aislinn felt Fionn’s unique energy and glanced up, seeking him. Gwydion led a processional with himself in the lead, staff in hand. Fionn and Bran came next, and Arawn stopped next to her.
“Lass?” He held out a hand to her, but she was fixated on Fionn.
He was dressed in pure white leathers with gold runes embroidered along the neckline and cuffs. His hair was braided, showing off the classic lines of his timeless face. Bella rode in her customary place on his left shoulder. Her black feathers glistened with rainwater.
Once he, Bran, and Gwydion reached a point at the head of the courtyard, he turned to face her, his glacier-blue eyes alight with love and hope, and his lips parted in a slight smile. Aislinn felt the quick, hot prick of tears. He was so impossibly beautiful, she couldn’t quite believe he wanted her.
“Lass?” Arawn said again. “’Tis time.”
With a hand that only trembled a little, she tucked her fingers beneath the crook of his elbow and let him lead her to Fionn’s side. Rune padded next to her.
Gwydion nodded approvingly and began to chant in Gaelic once she stood on Fionn’s left side. The Celts ranged behind them picked up the chant, as did some of the humans who were fluent in Gaelic. The dragons chimed in at intervals, and Aislinn was grateful she’d insisted on keeping the wedding outside. The rain wasn’t that bad. She barely noticed it because of the fire burning brightly in her heart.
Gwydion completed the initial part of the ceremony and switched to English. He took her right hand and placed it in Fionn’s. The heat from him seared her, but it was the joy streaming from Fionn’s entire body that almost undid her, and she blinked back tears.
“Leannán?” Fionn said softly. “Are ye all right?”
She nodded. “Just happy. So happy it’s spilling over.”
“Do ye,” Gwydion asked, “take this man to love and cherish forevermore?”
“I do.” Aislinn tightened her hold on Fionn’s hand.
“And do ye,” Gwydion asked Fionn, “promise to love, cherish, and protect this woman so long as ye shall exist?”
“I do,” Fionn intoned.
“What?” Aislinn shook her head. “Don’t I get to protect him too?”
Gwydion stifled a snort. “And would ye protect him, then?”
“Of course.” She smiled at the master enchanter. “That’s what lovers do. Watch each other’s backs.”
Gwydion chanted in Gaelic with his staff raised above their heads. It glowed a brilliant blue white as it blessed their union. Finally, he fell silent.
Fionn gathered her into his arms and crushed his mouth down on hers, kissing her hungrily. Oblivious to the crowd around them, she flung her arms around him, clasped him close, and kissed him back. Hoots, catcalls, and clapping rose around them before she came up for air with Fionn smiling at her as if he were the happiest man in the world.
She cupped the side of his face with a hand. “God willing, we’ll always feel like this,” she murmured.
“We will.” He leaned into her hand.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because we’ll take care of the moments, each and every one. When we do that, the hours and days will take care of themselves.”
“I like the sound of that.” Aislinn was grinning like a fool, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Hey.” She glanced up and saw an almost full moon peeking from behind the clouds. “It stopped raining.”
“So it did, lass.”
Cries of, “Food. Mead. Whiskey. Cake,” came from all quarters.
“Let’s bring our plates out here, at least for a while,” she said. “That way the dragons can visit with us.”
“I’ll dry some benches with magic,” Bran offered.
“Before we go inside for food,” Bella said, “I’d like a private moment with Aislinn.”
Fionn glanced at his bird. He looked worried, but didn’t say anything as she fluttered to Aislinn’s shoulder and the pair moved a few feet away.
“Thank you for being part of the ceremony.” Aislinn stroked the bird’s damp plumage.
“What I wanted,” Bella said, without preamble, “is to tell you I’m glad Fionn married you. You’re perfect for him, and he is for you.” She pecked Aislinn’s head softly. “I know I’m not easy to get along with, but Fionn’s needed a good mate for a long time. Your mother, she wasn’t right for him, but you are.” The bird tightened her talons. “That’s all. You can go inside and get dinner now.”
Aislinn felt the bite of tears again. She reached up and plucked the bird off her shoulders, bringing her around so she could look at her. “Thank you so much,” she said. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.” Bending, she kissed the tip of Bella’s beak.
The bird twisted in her grip. “Now don’t get all maudlin. This is your wedding day. Let go of me.”
Aislinn did, and the raven flew back to Fionn. He angled his head to talk with her, clearly interested in what had transpired. Aislinn got back in time to hear the raven say, “That’s between Aislinn and me,” in her usual smug tone.
Stifling a giggle, she looped an arm around Fionn’s waist. “About that wedding feast? Looks like most of the guests have gone back inside. If we don’t hurry, we won’t get a thing to eat.”
He cast his million watt smile her way. “We could just retire to the third floor—”
“We could,” she agreed and grinned at him, “but it’s not every day a girl gets married, and I’d like to savor a little more of the celebration before we get lost in our own private world.”
“We’d like to savor it with you,” Nidhogg rumbled from a few feet away.
“Indeed,” Dewi concurred and made shooing motions with both forelegs. “Go get dinner and come back and sit with us. There are plans to be made.”
“Like what?” Aislinn asked, genuinely curious.
“Well, for one thing,” the dragon began, “you still need years of practice with martial skills, fighting from my back.”
Rune growled low from the shadows, and Aislinn laughed. “Not today,” she said. “No talk of war, fighting, battle strategies, or any of that. It’s my wedding day, and I want to enjoy it.”
“I couldna have said it better myself.” Fionn threaded an arm around her and together they walked up the steps and into the house.
“Husband,” she said, enjoying the way the word rolled around on her tongue so much, she said it again. “Husband.”
“Aye?” Mild amusement underscored the word.
“Nothing. I just like the sound of it.”
“Would any husband have done?”
She elbowed him. “Of course not, silly. The only husband I ever wanted was you.”
He turned her to face him just inside the front door. “That was the right answer,” he said, and tilted his head to kiss her.
The End of the Earth Reclaimed Series
About the Author:
Ann Gimpel is a national bestselling author. She’s also a clinical psychologist, with a Jungian bent. Avocations include mountaineering, skiing, wilderness photography and, of course, writing. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared in a number of webzines and anthologies. Her longer books run the gamut from urban fantasy to paranormal romance. She’s published over 25 books to date, with several more contracted for 2015 and beyond. A husband, grown children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out her family.
Keep up with her at
www.anngimpel.com
or
http://anngimpel.blogspot.com
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