A Song of Faithless Shadows

9. Dearly Beloved

Gwyneth

Emerie and I are attached at the hip all night. The gathering wasn't particularly large, but Em and I aren't particularly fond of strangers either. Sure, we had been introduced to the inner circle a couple of times, but the only few Em and I felt completely relaxed around were Cassian, Mor, and Azriel.

And I haven't seen Azriel since the ceremony.

Same to be said of Cassian and Nesta, lacking the restraint to even make it halfway through the reception. Nesta couldn't even be allured by dancing when Cassian was the alternative.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like to have a mate?" Emerie asks me as we dance. "To be matched to someone, your exact equal?"

I hesitate before remembering who I'm talking to. This is Emerie. There isn't a thing in this world that I couldn't tell her and Nesta. "I never much imagined a mate for myself," I admit. "Catryn... she was my equal, my opposite. I know it's not the same, but having her, I never felt empty, like I was missing apart of myself. I only felt that way after I lost her, before I met you and Nesta."

Emerie smooths my hair down fondly, a bitter smile upon her face. "Knowing you and Nesta has been nothing short of divine. I know it could've only been done by the grace of the gods," she says.

"What about your?" I ask her. "Have you ever given thought to having a mate?"

She smirks. "In my wildest fantasies, I have imagined them coming to me in the pouring rain," she says. "Perhaps I'd be wearing some extravagant gown, and by the next clap of thunder, I'd know it that moment that it was them. That they were my mate."

I smile. "You make it sound so romantic."

"And then we'd go inside and have bodice-ripping sex," she says stoically, and I choke on my breath.

"You've been reading too many romance novels," I grin at her.

"Please," she scoffs. "You're worse than me."

I could deny her, but lying is wrong. "You said they," I hedge carefully. "Do you have a picture of what they might one day look like? It's okay if you don't want to tell me." I don't want her to feel like there's anything she can't say to me. I know certain things are taboo in Illyria, but as far as me... most of the women in the library have found no need of men. I can't say I blame them.

Emerie blushes, considering for a moment. I get the feeling it's something she's never said aloud before. Then, she clears her throat. "I mean, they could look like anyone," she says. "Who knows? I could be ripping the bodice off of them."

I smile broadly, unable to help myself. "I could see that for you," I tilt my head. "But the rain love confession? Let's not get our mind set on the theatrics."

She smiles brighter then, as if whatever shadow of doubt in her mind that I would think any less of her dissipated. Relief twinkles in her watering eyes, but she doesn't cry. She reaches out and hugs me. In the middle of the dance floor, she hugs me, and I hug her back. We have no mind for the couples spinning to avoid us. "I'm so glad we met, Gwyn," she settles her head on my shoulder, nearly my height.

I squeeze her tighter. "I'd thank the cauldron, but Nesta would be furious with me to neglect that she introduced us," I laugh.

"I love that witch, too," she says fondly, sniffling. "How heinous of her to get married and go making me all weepy during her ceremony? I hate weddings. They make me emotional."

"She'll be back soon," I vow, looking over her face. "For however much she is devoted to Cassian, she is nearly as devoted to us. I'm not sure how we managed to get so lucky."