“Aren’t we supposed to be getting married today?” Malin asked.

Surah made a few more notes, glancing up at her betrothed. “You’re not supposed to see the bride or something like that. What are you doing here?”

He crossed his arms, brow rising. “What am I doing here? Well, my wife’s handmaid tells me that said wife is missing, and they have hair, makeup and other female things to do…and I just knew you were in the lab. Working.”

She blew out a breath, disturbing her bangs. “I already showered and put on the scented lotion. Give me some credit. But Cole—”

“Surah. Get your ass upstairs and get dressed.”

She gaped, but sniffed a moment later when he lowered his eyes to hide the mirth–Malin couldn’t keep a straight face when he was trying to be mean, even if it killed him.

“Well, you’re not dressed. Lana, save data and shut down the lab. We’ll be gone a few days.”

Malin snorted. “Let’s not go all wild and crazy. A few days without working?”

“You sound like your brother,” she said, striding past him. “Go plague Geza. I’ll be ready in an hour.”

“I’ll tell the guests to have another drink while we wait on you, my love.”

Geza and Malin had argued long and hard over the venue for the wedding. Malin wanted to marry on his property, Geza intervened saying that the parents of his Heir would be wed in the home of the Prince.

“That’s an order!” Geza roared.

Malin had snorted, crossing his arms. “You can give me orders when you learn how to hold your blade.”

Surah had intervened, heading off the fight before it began. She chose Geza’s tower because ultimately, she didn’t want the court and all the other guests trampling over her lawn or snooping through her home.

So after a barrage of stylists attacked her–“So good of you to join us, daughter,” Adagia had said–and she was dressed, hair and makeup styled, simple jewels draped around her neck and at her ears, Surah and the wedding party entered a limousine and made their way to the gargoyle complex. As it lifted into the air, she sucked in a breath, pressing a hand to her stomach.

“Get her a bag,” Adagia said, and a small, white sack was shoved under her nose. “Try not to mess up your makeup.”

She’d always thought of her mother as quiet and retiring, but these last few days after the aborted kidnapping, the woman had been a tyrant.

They set down in the courtyard and Surah emerged from the limo, flashes of cameras going off all over. She paused, like a good tabloid princess, and let them get their shots, a little annoyed at how easy she fell into the poses. Then walked inside, her party trailing her in their gowns. They made their way up to the open air ballroom, standing outside the wide door as the official Sililu had hired to help run the actual ceremony rushed up.

“Princess! I already let them know you’re here. Now let’s go over one more time—”

Eventually everyone was ushered into place and the solemn beat of a drum began. Her wedding party–Sililu, Adagia, several ladies of the court, and a few human women from the lab–went in before her. When it was her turn, another drum joined the first and then a third until it was a somber chorus.

The door slid open and she walked, willingly, over the threshold.

Inside the guests were arrayed in circles around the center of the room where Malin would stand. The drums stopped. Surah halted and as one, every person in the room, including Malin and Geza, knelt. It was the only time in a female gargoyle’s life her husband, family and friends were required to prostrate themselves to her.

Probably, Surah knew, because in many occasions the sacrifice she was making was an unwelcome one, and they were all trying to grovel, encouraging her not to make a scene. But in this case, her feet carried her to the center of the circles quite willingly. When she reached Malin everyone rose.

Geza’s voice filled the air. “Princess Surah Adar-Ioveanu!”

The roar of voices echoed their Prince three times.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Malin said in her ear under the cover of the shouts.

“That’s good,” she said. “Our garlings won’t be ugly, then.”

He shook his head, smiling. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready since I was a girl.”

His eyes flared and she knew her wedding night would be extra special. Surah slid her hand over Malin’s arm, and they turned towards the officiant. Surah smiled at the woman ironically. But it wasn’t her fault she’d also been preempted to marry Surah and Uthman. Officiants, who presided over births, deaths, marriages and other small legal matters, were required to remain neutral in all situations and come when called. Surah was glad her brother hadn’t imprisoned the woman, but merely asked her to locate the marriage paperwork so it could be annulled.

Surah put those thoughts out of her head.

“Malin Ioveanu and Surah Adar-Ioveanu, you both come here before witnesses to declare your intent to marry. Are you both here of your own free will?”

Surah had insisted the wedding script be tweaked, to include the question of her willingness. There was a slight stated murmuring the crowd, but she knew that at least the women would be pleased.

“I’m here of my own free will,” Surah said.

“And I,” Malin echoed.

“And being both of you of highborn rank, you assert that you have the blessing of your Prince to wed?”

“We have his blessing.”

The officiant smiled. “Then as you are both adults of sound mind, and there is no reason why you should not wed, and as you are both members of the court who have received the blessing of your Prince, insofar as you are both willing to bind yourselves, and your honor, to each other, I decree that you are husband and wife.”

A roar from the audience, because gargoyles loved a chance to shout, and Surah turned to her husband, brow arched. “Can we do the whole ‘you may kiss the bride’ thing?”

His lips curved as he drew her close. “My pleasure.”

The ceremony was brief because traditionally these things could end in battle if dragged on too long–but the party would last all night long. The food and alcohol flowed, dancers of all cultures were brought in to entertain, even a comedian and a famous pop singer. Malin and Surah went back to the courtyard to take pictures and speak to the press before attending their party.

After a time Surah noticed one of Malin’s human employees, the brown-skinned girl with curly hair. Surah approached. “Bea, right?”

The woman glanced at her, startled. “Yes, Princess.”

“Surah is fine. Look, don’t let any of the males bother you, all right? They’re mostly bark, so if you woof a bit, any flirts will back off.”

Bea smiled. “I’m good, thanks. The ceremony was nice–gargoyles don’t do wedding vows?”

“We’re not a very romantic culture. Marriage is business, mostly.”

“That’s…interesting.”

Surah grinned and lifted her wineglass of grape juice in salute and wandered off. Petru waylaid her, expression sour. “Congratulations on your marriage, Surah,” he said.

She clapped him on the back. “Don’t be sad, it was never going to happen with us. But we’ll find you a nice girl with wings and some money to settle down with. Don’t worry.”

Malin claimed her for a dance, the hip-grinding, heart-pulsing kind of dance that had her looking around for a dark corner. He just shook his head at her, grin faintly malicious.

She rolled her eyes and pushed at his chest. “I’m getting something to eat since you’d rather party than fuck.”

“All in good time, my love.”

Surah was making her way to the buffet table when she saw her mother sitting in a corner with a human male. Surah stopped, changing course, curiosity piqued. The man was tall, lean, with dark hair and eyes and a suit that would be more at home in a university lecture hall than a wedding. He wore thin-framed glasses, which told her he was either poor or hopelessly old fashioned.

“Mother?” she asked, looking between Adagia and the male. “You have a new friend? Did you get permission from the Prince?”

She was only half joking. As Geza’s mother, a male shouldn’t be talking to Adagia at all without having cleared it. But when she looked through the room trying to find Geza, he just looked back at her and nodded. Surah turned back to her mother, who’d remained sitting, while the man rose and held out a hand.

“You’re Surah Adar. I’ve heard about your work on the Ioveanu gene.”

Surah shook his hand, blinking. “You have? Are you a scientist?”

He nodded. “I have a grant in New York, but I’m originally from Cairo University.”

She knew of it. “Really? They have one of the best programs on gene splicing in the world.”

He smiled. “I know. My mentor started it.”

She blinked. “What did you say your name was?”

“Sean Ansari.”

“Well, welcome. Maybe we can have lunch while you’re in town. I don’t get to talk to many people in my field.”

“I’d like that,” he said softly.

Adagia sighed, rising. “Sean.”

The man’s shoulders drooped. “This isn’t the way I wanted to do it, Addy.”

Surah frowned. They didn’t sound like two newly met strangers. “Mother?”

“Surah, Sean is your father. I’m sorry.”

Maybe Malin had been watching her, or maybe he’d simply sensed it, but her husband was at her side moments later. She stared at the man, not seeing him. She couldn’t make sense of the words.

“What?”

Malin wrapped an arm around her waist. “My love, you look pale. Sit.” He glanced at Adagia and Sean, impassive. “You could have waited.”

Sarah twisted in his arms. “Wait–you knew?”

Malin crouched at her feet, taking her hand between his and rubbing briskly. “Of course. He’s older, but I recognized him. You have bit of him around the jaw, anyway. Come, Surah—I was an adult when you were born. Of course I knew.”

“You never told me.”

“It wouldn’t have done any good.”

“I was banned from seeing you,” Sean said, unmoving. “It was the price I paid to ensure Adagia wasn’t punished. Ciodaru preferred long-term pain over short.”

Surah drew in a breath, force herself to breath. “So now what? Are you two together?”

Adagia smiled a little. “No. We’re friends.”

“If you still want to do that lunch, I would very much like to discuss your research. I may be able to help, and it seems to run in the family.”

Surah looked up into Sean’s eyes. They were kind, understanding, and a little sad. “I don’t–Malin?”

He kissed her cheek. “You should go, Surah. You need this connection.”

“But he’s human. The court—”

“Do you care what the court thinks?”

She closed her mouth. She’d spent so many years rebuffing their scorn, that maybe she was more vulnerable to it than she knew. “No, no I don’t give a rat’s ass what they think.”

“Thank you,” Sean said, voice soft.

Surah nodded and stood up. She needed to get away for a few minutes, be alone. Malin took her arm. As they left, she heard Sean say, “She’s so beautiful, Addy. The tabloids don’t do her any justice.”

Great. Her father had been keeping up with her life through tabloids. She glanced up at Malin, whose mouth was thin. “What wrong?”

He looked down at her. She saw the devilish glint in his eyes, and sighed. “Go ahead and snicker.”

Malin laughed. “I’m a warrior. I don’t snicker.”

They stepped out onto the balcony and Malin, uncaring of the audience or protocol, swept her into his arms and took off into the night. It was their wedding night. They would spend the rest of it alone, loving each other.