My new husband leads me away from the pool and back through the stone forest. The others trail behind us, loud in their exuberance. My dress is already completely dry—whatever material it is, water just doesn't cling to it. Back up the spiraling stair we go, and then in the opposite direction from the one I'd first come. To a part of the palace I remember from my tour a few days earlier.

The whole way, it's everything I can do not to try and drag Aidon off to some private part of the palace—whatever's nearest—and throw myself at him. Though the intensity of our mutual empathy lessened somewhat when we stepped out of the Blue, the connection it forged between us has not...and I want nothing more than to be as close to him as physically possible.

But there's a party to attend to first.

The ballroom, like so much of the palace, has taken on an entirely new life for the occasion of our wedding. Shaped like a fat disc, half of it is carved directly from the dark rock of the plateau. The other half extends outward, a half-moon of glass and geometric patterns of blacksteel latticework. The tiered levels leading down to the dance floor have all been lined with rows of rose bushes. And at the center of the central space—growing from a sunken circle filled with earth and moss—stands a familiar copse of pomegranate trees, tiny motes of crimson luminescence now dusting their leaves.

The city and stars beyond the glass paint a panorama of glittering lights against a backdrop of deepest night, fading to violet at the edges of the horizon to the north and south where it nears the outer reaches of Dusk.

While Aidon and I descend the main stair leading downward, most of the others fan out to fill the dining tables of the upper tiers. Now only Rhea, Hecate, Aidon's inner circle, our guardians and Syntrofos still follow behind us as we cross the dance floor, past the glimmering trees and up the stair at the opposite end. There the grand table awaits us, set in lavish silver and crystal and heaped at the center with flowers in every hue of red between deepest scarlet and strawberry.

Glasses of bubbly star-wine await at each of our seats, already filled. Synthes line the wall of glass and beams behind us, waiting with more. Taking my spot at the center of the long, curving table, I sit beside my groom and try to hide my growing impatience as Rhea, Hecate, and Aidon's closest friends all speak and call for toasts. At this point, I'm almost as hungry for food as I am for my husband.

Finally they're done. With a heady buzz setting in, I tear into the first dish laid before me—a dainty appetizer made of layers of egg custard, hazelnut and orange chutney, and duck Pâté.

Feeling his eyes on me, I glance up at Aidon—something I'd been avoiding in an attempt to keep my lust at bay.

"This is the first thing you've eaten today, isn't it"

My lip quirks upward as I consider, still chewing my most recent bite.

"I mean real food," he adds.

I swallow, side-eyeing Syntrofos where he stands just behind me and to my left—having refused the place I'd offered him at the table beside me. Instead, Hecate sits there, deep in conversation with the person to her other side—introduced during his toast as my husband's lifelong friend, Etros.

"Oh. I suppose so."

He huffs a bit at me before his attention is diverted by one of the others calling to him from farther down the table.

By the time the last course arrives—chocolate cake with salted lavender cream frosting—I'm wishing I hadn't eaten past the first. With my hunger for food satisfied, the other craving comes to the fore. I watch my groom as he talks animatedly with his friends, admiring the angles of his jaw. The passion in his eyes. The way he holds himself. Drinking in every detail.

Recalling the taste of his blood.

As we eat, musicians appear at the top of the far stair, filing down until they reach the last tiered level and spreading out to ring the entire ballroom. The music begins softly at first, building like birdsong in the early hours of the morning to grow into something wondering and joyful. I close my eyes for a moment in appreciation, imagining a garden made of starlight—blossoms blooming and flaring out and bursting to life again in a perfect dance of birth and death.

"Do you like it?" Hecate's draws me out of the reverie. I open my eyes, turning to meet her gaze.

"I love it," I breathe. She breaks into her shark's grin—which I find endearing now, rather than scary. An affect of my new bond with Aidoneus, perhaps?

"He composed it for you, you know. His Majesty. Just after meeting you in person."

"Damnit, Hecate." Aidon leans forward to glare at her.

"What? Why shouldn't she know that?"

"It's a last minute composition. I'll probably regret it in a matter of days, I don't want—"

"Oh psh." She rolls her eyes before meeting mine with a conspiratorial wink. "He's just embarrassed to be such a romantic."

"What the hell kind of Hand are you?" Demands Aidon, slamming his cup down in mock anger. "What happened to your whole 'upholding the dignity of my sovereign' bit?"

Hecate scoffs. "I'm the drunk kind. And there's nothing undignified about romance or talent. Now, isn't it time you danced with your new bride?"

He raises an eyebrow at her, his face the picture of severity. "I'll have to agree with you there," he says, before looking to me as his lips part in a sudden, beatific smile. Standing, he extends a hand down to me.

"My lady queen, would you honor me with a dance?"

"Hm." I purse my lips up at him for a moment, pretending to consider before offering my hand. "I suppose."

Smirking, he locks his fingers firmly around mine and sweeps me up onto my feet. I pause a moment to sweep the train of my dress up, attaching a little silver clip hidden amongst the flowers to the jeweled chain-piece I wear over my hand and wrist for this very purpose. All eyes are on us as we make our way to the center of the ballroom. The song changes, shifts into something at once more muted and yet somehow more vital—almost sensual. The steady, two-step beat of the drums is like that of a pair of hearts, and the trilling song of the electric violins echoes the thrill that runs down my spine at thought of the night ahead. A deeper, thrumming tune weaves throughout—like the rushing of blood.

I stare up at my imposing, beautiful, endearing husband, and slowly we begin to spin across the floor. The flowering train attached to my wrist like a single wing that sweeps around my body and flares outward as we move. Couple-by-couple, group-by-group, people drift down to join us, until we're whirling through a sea of opulence and color.

"You really weren't going to tell me that you composed that song?" I ask, looking at him with what I hope is a playful glint in my eye.

"Never," he intones, but his lips quirk upward.

"Does it always feel like this, when Variants get married?"

He doesn't even have to ask me what I mean by that. He shakes head, flashing fangs as his smile widens. "It varies from couple-to-couple. If they're already very compatible, it'll be like this," he pauses to whirl me outward as the music builds to a moment of intensity before flowing onward. "If they hate each other, it'll make them able to at least bear one another, to see the other's side of things and to have some amount of trust. Usually, it falls somewhere in between."

"So I guess we got lucky," I say, flushing with sudden warmth.

"Very lucky," he corrects before whirling me out again. We come back together in a rush, laughing, eyes locked—and for a few heartbeats our mutual need for one another is painful.

When the song ends and I convince Aidon to honor tradition by offering some of the following dances to others, he snubs Rhea—still angry over the dinner incident—and takes Hecate's hand instead. While they spin away, I drift toward the miniature forest of pomegranate trees. After all, none of my own friends and family are here, and I certainly don't feel like dancing with Rhea or any stranger right now. Syntrofos offers his services, but I wave him off. A moment to myself to breathe and rest is actually exactly what I need.

Stepping beneath the low canopy, I'm bathed in crimson light. I kick off my heels, allowing the plush moss to cradle my feet as I make my way to the heart of the miniature grove. My flower-drenched dress pools around me as I sit, and I throw back my head, breathing deep of the smell of greenery and petals and earth.

"Enjoy it while you can," says an unfamiliar, purring voice from just behind me. My guardian hovers closer, and I turn with a start to see an unfamiliar woman stepping up to me through the trees.