She came awake slowly, stretching cat-like beneath the luxurious blankets, smiling as muscles unused to being exercised so thoroughly groaned in protest. Her lazy happiness faded when her hand found nothing but empty sheets beside her. Sitting up with a start, she scanned the room, listened for sounds coming from the en suite. The room was dark, and though her night vision was much improved, she flicked the switch near the headboard and turned on the lights. Ryver wasn't there. There was nothing but silence.

No. Not silence. There was someone outside the door. Gulping down the panic rising in her throat she sent her mind out. That just made things worse. Whoever was out there was extremely powerful. She felt echoes of Thorn Blackwood. This person had a similar strength, but it wasn't him.

A gentle knock made her jump. "Hello?" she called out, sounding nowhere near as confident as she would have liked.

"Ria?" The voice sounded gentle and kind, and most definitely feminine.

Frowning she pulled herself off the bed and stalked towards the door. "Yes?"

"Be a dear and open the door," the woman replied.

Still no hint of malevolence, even if Ria couldn't quite get a lock on the mind that went with the voice. "Oh! Right. Yes. Sorry," she said as she reached for the handle. "Oh!" she squeaked as she realised she hadn't a stitch on.

"Is everything alright?" the voice said.

"Um, yes," she replied as she searched frantically for some clothes. "Hang on." Hers had seemingly disappeared, so she flung open the wardrobe and grabbed the first thing that looked big enough. It turned out to be some sort of dress shirt. It'd have to do.

She opened the door hoping she looked decent enough to welcome whoever it was. The shirt was plenty big enough in length and across the shoulders, but her boobs were considerably bigger than Ryver's!

"Hello?" she said tentatively to what appeared to be a gigantic ball of multi-coloured fabric with a pair of legs sticking out of the bottom.

The ball of fabric rustled, some of it unravelling, as a pair of honey-gold eyes framed by luscious, dark curls popped out of the top. "Oh good. You're up. I waited as long as I could," it said as it barged passed her and made its way into the room.

Ria just stared.

The ball of fabric fell to the floor with a sigh of relief from its bearer and revealed a petite woman dressed in a pink tracksuit. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she smiled. "Right. We'd better get a wriggle on, hadn't we?"

"Had we?" Ria asked without the faintest notion of what the woman was talking about.

"Why yes," she replied, checking her watch. "We really haven't that much time."

"Right. Um...time for what exactly?"

The woman blinked and her shoulders slumped. "Ryver didn't tell you, did he?"

"Tell me what exactly?" she asked, eyeing the voluminous material with suspicion.

The woman checked her watch again with a sigh. "In precisely nine hours and thirty-six minutes the entire race will descend upon this House to witness my brother marry his soul mate and name her his Queen, and you, my dear, have nothing to wear."

"Oh! I don't really think... Wait. Your brother?" Ria's mind decided to engage at last. "So you are Soraya then?" Ryver had told her about the Princess. She wasn't what she expected at all.

Soraya looked positively mortified. "Goddess in Fae, how terribly rude you must think me!" She recovered quickly and bobbed in a low, quite perfect curtsey. "I am Soraya of House Blackwood, blood sister to the king, and youngest child of Deanna and Logan," she said as she rose again.

Ria didn't attempt a curtsey—no way she could pull it off with such finesse—and nodded instead. "It's a pleasure to meet you, your royal highness," she said, thankful that she'd remembered the proper address. "I'm Ria, erm..."

The Princess waived her hand. "Pft. Please, call me Soraya. We are sisters now after all."

"We are?"

"Of course!"

"Oh. Okay..." Ria wasn't sure how to respond.

Soraya grinned and knelt down by the pile of material, which turned out to be dresses rather than just bolts of fabric, and started pulling several pieces out. "Speaking of sisters, I don't suppose you have seen Lena today, have you?"

"I. Um. No. 'Fraid not."

Soraya held out a green number, but after a quick glance at Ria, she shook her head and discarded it. "I rather think she's avoiding me," she said as she pulled out another dress and gestured to her. "Here, hold this."

Ria moved over and did as instructed. The dress Soraya had chosen was a burgundy creation that reached way past Ria's feet and trailed across the floor, golden embroidery twinkling in the lights. "I don't really think—"

"No. You're quite right. Not you at all." She shook her head, turning her attention to the other samples.

Ria bit her lip. "Is this really necessary?"

Soraya tensed and shot her a disapproving look. "Not you as well!"

"Me as well?"

"Is wearing a dress so awful? First Lena and now you. I despair; I really do. Perhaps we should all just don a Blackwood Order uniform and be done with it!"

Ria dropped to her knees beside the Princess. "It's not that. They're all lovely. Well. All of them except that one, maybe." She nodded at something in a disgusting puce colour. "It's just, well, um, I haven't been invited."

Soraya looked at her as though she had three heads, her golden eyes flying wide, dark brows rising so high they almost disappeared entirely. There was a moment of stunned silence before the woman's face creased and she fell about laughing.

Ria's brow furrowed. She hadn't the slightest clue as to what could be so funny.

"Invited! Hoho. Invited indeed!" Soraya managed to get the words out between fits of giggles.

Ria's frown deepened. Ryver didn't mention Soraya having some kind of mental illness, but perhaps he'd forgotten. He had forgotten to tell her she was coming...

The hysterics abated. "I'm sorry. You must think me completely insane," Soraya said, wiping tears from her eyes with a hankie she seemed to have conjured from nowhere.

"Not at all," Ria responded automatically.

Soraya glanced at her and laughed again. "You sound sincere, sister mine, but your face is as transparent as glass."

Damn it. "Sorry. What did I say that was so funny?"

"The entire race is coming to this handfasting. They all think they have the right, whether they were invited or not—which they were by the way. That's another story. Anyway, here you are, one of the very few people who does actually have a right to be there, and you're worried about having an invitation."

"Oh. I see." She didn't.

Soraya reached over and patted her hand. "My brother already offered you his House—formally, I mean—but he really didn't need to. This House was yours the moment you and Ryver, ah..." She lowered her gaze, looking a little embarrassed.

"Accepted each other?" Ria ventured.

"Yes!" She looked visibly relieved. "This House became yours the moment you and Ryver accepted each other."

"Oh."

Ria couldn't help herself. Now she'd had time to adjust to the way the Princess's mind worked, she could hear more. She listened hard for any hint about what House Ria could offer Ryver. Surely it should go both ways? She didn't find anything and withdrew quickly, not sure whether Soraya would feel her intrusion, and not wanting to offend.

Soraya checked her watch. "Gracious! Look at the time!" She started rifling through the dresses in earnest. "There's so much to do."

"Tell me what I can do to help," Ria said.

The woman looked at her wide-eyed, like no one had ever offered to help her before. Ria caught the tail end of a thought—apparently nobody had offered to help. Nobody except Kaden, that was. The Princess's heart seemed to skip a beat at the thought of Ryver's brother, and for a second, Ria could swear she could smell sandalwood, but as soon as she recognised the aroma, it disappeared.

That was weird.

"Honestly, I have no idea about weddings, or handfasting, or whatever, but if I can help, I will," Ria told her.

"You may regret saying that."

Ria looked around the empty room and shrugged. "Ryver's obviously off doing something important and I can't sit here twiddling my thumbs until he comes back, can I?"

"Well, I suppose not. He is by the way."

"Sorry?"

"Doing something important. He and Mercury—you've met him, I believe—are going through the final security checks."

"For a wedding?"

Soraya's eyes darkened slightly. "There are a lot of people out there who mean us harm."

Ria blanched, ice forming in her veins.

"Ria? Are you quite well?"

She nodded. "I think I need to speak with Kaden." Her throat had gone dry, her words barely more than a croak.

Soraya stared at her, concern etched across her face. "Very well," she said as she rose. "Let's get you some clothes that fit and go and find the Keeper of the Watch."

* * *

Ryver pulled at the collar of his dress uniform as he stalked down the aisle. The shirt had been starched to within an inch of its life and the whole thing was as stiff as a bloody board. He could swear it creaked as he moved. For the millionth time in the past hour, he questioned the wisdom of wearing it. Soraya had insisted though, and nobody wanted to argue with her. So there he was, looking like a dog's dinner, casting a watchful eye over the arriving guests.

Casting his mind over them too.

The new kids, Stone and Colt, had already checked everyone for weapons on their way in, much to the annoyance of some of the more distinguished guests, but the Order left nothing to chance.

Ryver had told Kaden everything he could about his stay with Asher—numbers, weapons, plans. Ria had also come crashing into the command centre, Soraya in tow, worried about her father's intentions. More importantly, she had a name, someone who was passing information to the Fallen Lord. It was obviously an alias, but it was useful nonetheless. Kaden had listened, and not just out of politeness. Ever the Guardian, he would use every tool at his disposal and he took Ria's concerns to heart.

Although Asher plainly knew when and probably where the ceremony was to take place, he hadn't, as of two days ago, formed any sort of concrete plan as to what to do about it. Kaden took that as good news. Ryver supposed the boss man was right.

While most of the Fallen tended to go off half-cocked, their thoughts almost always concerned with their next meal, Asher did not share the same mindset. The leader of the Fallen was far more fastidious. The loss of human life was inconsequential to him, just a means of sustaining himself, but his true goal lay with the downfall of House Blackwood and everything it held dear.

Ryver sent up a little prayer to anyone or anything that might be listening. With so many of them gathered in one place, the risks were almost incalculable.

He joined Mercury and Marin, who had recently arrived from Norway, on the dais. Both of them looked just as uncomfortable as he felt, fiddling with collars, adjusting waistbands, pulling at cuffs.

"I can’t believe I 'ave to wear this crap and I didn't even get to go to a bloody stag do to make up for it! That's like the whole point of a fuckin' weddin'." He adjusted his sash. "Fine bleeding lot we look," Mercury muttered.

"I think you look very fine indeed." Soraya's voice crackled in their ear pieces.

Marin stifled a laugh as Mercury's mouth fell open. He recovered enough to turn his shock into a scowl, which he aimed squarely at Ryver. Ryver heard his thoughts loud and clear...because Mercury mentally screamed them at him. Ryver shrugged in reply.

How was he supposed to know she'd been looped in on the comms?

He ignored his brother's continued glare and turned to face the hall. Dress uniforms aside, he had to hand it to Soraya; the place did look pretty spectacular. His gaze touched on the velvet edged Blackwood banners hanging from the walls, the family crest emblazoned on cream silk, embroidered in what he strongly suspected was real gold thread. Huge candles burned atop dozens of gold candelabrum and in the crystal chandeliers above their heads, casting a warm glow over the assembly. The scent of roses wafted over him as more guests arrived, the end of each row of seats festooned with enormous displays of white flowers, matching the strings of blossoms strung between the marble pillars. Given that they hardly ever used the room for anything other than storage, he'd never seen the place looking so elegant.

"YOU CHECKED THE BOWMANS?"

He winced as Mercury's dulcet tones smashed through his appreciation of the decorations.

He glared back at him. "Of course I bloody have," he hissed.

Larissa and her son, Crane, had arrived unfashionably early, ostensibly with the desire to make sure they could get the best seats. Larissa had a hope that she might catch a glimpse of her youngest son, Roarke, who was at that very moment running point in the communications suite. That surprised him. It seemed the Maluth may have some sort of heart after all. Her eldest son, however, was a completely different kettle of fish, and Ryver kept careful tabs on him, all the while wondering how two brothers could be so different.

His thoughts turned to Marin, who stood stoic next to Mercury, dark eyes carefully studying the faces in front of him. Ryver hoped the same thing applied to Marin and his brother, Vance.

Vance having Fallen. Having had an awful lot to do with Lena's kidnapping as a child. Having tried to kill her. Having eventually lost his life at the end of her blade.

Fuck.

He risked a look back at the Guardian, but the guy's concentration lay solely with the job at hand. His thoughts too. Honour meant an awful lot to all Vampires, but more so to Marin. Because he felt the need to prove it over and over again. Ryver felt a little guilty for needing to check and returned his attention to the rest of the hall.

"THE MEADOWSES ARE HERE!"

"Jesus Christ, Mercury. I have eyes in my fucking head, you know!"

He felt rather than saw the guy shrug and concentrated on ignoring the fucking idiot.

"Why does he shout at you?"

His head snapped up, eyes searching the throng at the huge entrance. He'd been so distracted by his brother's antics he hadn't heard her coming.

She giggled, the sound washing over him like a beautiful melody. "I'm glad I can still surprise you," she said.

That made him smile.

Then he saw her and the smile fell, turning instead to a look of pure astonishment.

"Bloody 'ell," Mercury said over the comms.

Bloody hell was right.

Walking through the crowds with her head held high, she looked like a goddess. He could feel her self-consciousness and did his best to burn that away. She felt him and smiled as she walked down the aisle. Her dark curls had been piled on top of her head, reminding him of the night he'd first met her. The black clothes had gone, replaced by a flowing chiffon gown in a deep plum. The boned bodice showed off her gorgeous curves, and if it was possible, accentuated those exquisite breasts. The fabric seemed to be an extension of her body, moving with her as her hips swayed, enchanting him with every step she took.

He couldn't wait for her to reach him. He needed to touch her, needed to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Bounding from the stage, he reached her in no time, his hands cupping her face, his lips claiming hers. She kissed him back, slow and sensual, and a shiver ran through him.

He was vaguely aware of the ripple of shocked gasps and wistful sighs that ran through the crowd but pushed them from his mind. "God, I missed you," he said as he pulled away.

"I missed you too," she whispered.

The daftest looking grin had spread its way across his face. He didn't care.

Taking a step back, he took in all of her again. "You look stunning."

A shy smile formed on her lips. "You look pretty damned good yourself."

Ryver snorted. "I look like an idiot. Come on, let's find you a seat."

* * *

Safely deposited in her seat in the front row, Ryver gave her a quick kiss and returned to his duties: scanning the minds of the congregation and looking mighty fine as he did it.

He heard that, and Ria had to stifle a giggle as she saw him flash an embarrassed smile.

Nobody had asked her to help, though she had heard Kaden wonder whether he should. In the end he didn't ask, but the true reason for his decision was annoyingly obscured by a complicated equation.

Listening to Ryver's mind, she easily fell into the same rhythm, scanning the minds of those around her. The great hall hummed with anticipation, excitement buzzing in the collective psyche as hope and expectation bubbled over in rushes of whispered questions and proclamations. It seemed nearly everyone knew who Lena was, and her recently discovered heritage was the subject of much gossip and speculation. Some said they knew all along; how could such a fearsome Warrior be anything but the daughter of a Shieldbearer? Others were less kind, wondering if she had somehow managed to deceive them all, though not one of them could offer a sound theory as to how that had been achieved.

Ria didn't know Lena at all, save for what she'd been told, and the brotherly love Ryver showed every time he thought of her. He'd been right, of course. She had no need to be jealous of the woman. Even a blind man could see the love between Lena and Thorn. She smiled. Witnessing it should put paid to the doubters in the crowd.

Those nearest her had started to wonder about her too. Perhaps she was from Marin's Norwegian base? Certainly they'd never seen her before, and of course they knew everyone of note, so she couldn't be from any of the great Houses. Not those based in England anyway. Perhaps the Spanish or Romanian contingent? But why wasn't she sitting with them?

She glanced back and saw a tall man with mousy, brown hair staring at her. As she met his gaze, he blinked and inclined his head in greeting. Ria echoed the gesture. He continued to stare, certain he'd seen her before. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he realised he was still staring and looked away.

He was still convinced he knew her.

She'd never seen him before in her life and had to satisfy herself that he couldn't possibly know who she was. Could he?

"Of course he bloody doesn't. That is Loren Meadows. A social climber who has a very loose definition of what honour should mean. He's always looking for something that will improve his standing." Ryver's voice floated into her mind, his words edged with anger.

"You're not a fan then?"

He smirked. "No."

"Duly noted."

Ryver's attention shifted to some new arrivals and she left him to his duty, though she did crane her neck to see who had caught his attention. A group of extremely beautiful people, looking like they just stepped off the runway in Milan or Paris, had drawn everybody's attention.

"They're from Naples, actually."

Of course they were.

The frisson of excitement over the new arrivals was nothing compared to the commotion the King and his right-hand man caused as they walked through the huge, arched doors. The oxygen whooshed out of the room in a collective intake of breath before the noise of appreciation and awe crescendoed to deafening levels.

She had to admit Thorn and Kaden looked every bit the part as they nodded greetings to the guests and made their way to the dais. Yesterday aside, Ria had never seen a king in real life, but this was pretty much what she'd always imagined. Wearing full dress, military uniform in a deep navy, complete with gold sash and braided aiguillette, his crown catching the light from the candles—he was everything a king should be.

The Keeper of the Watch cut a fine figure too. The navy of his uniform brought out the colour of his piercing, blue eyes. Listening to the female voices around her, she wasn't the only one to have noticed. After all, the King was taken. Kaden was not.

Pipes sounded from nowhere and everyone rose to their feet, all jockeying for the best view. Ria suspected she was the only one not looking toward the door. She knew Lena would look amazing; Soraya had given her a sneak peek at the dress. What Ria really wanted to see was Thorn's reaction, that first glimpse of his bride—the pride, the joy, the love.

The crowd stirred, quiet sighs of appreciation mixing with the sound of trumpets. Ria still watched the two men waiting on the stage. Thorn smiled, but it was Kaden's reaction that caught her eye. The Keeper took a shaky breath, his ice-blue eyes burning sapphire as he stared up the aisle.

Unable to resist, Ria looked over her shoulder. Dressed in a dusky-pink dress that looked to be made of the most delicate flower blossom and fine-spun gossamer, Soraya glided past row upon row of captivated guests. Ria looked back at Kaden. No one looked more enchanted than him.

Like watching some romantic game of tennis, she looked back at the Princess. The woman's attention was all for Kaden. She climbed the two steps to the stage, embraced her brother, kissed his cheek, and took her place next to the Keeper of the Watch. She nodded at him and wrenched her eyes away to smile at the congregation. Her emotions boiled very close to the surface, and Ria knew it took a great deal of effort to stand so close to him without falling apart.

She wondered why Ryver hadn't mentioned the two of them to her.

"Because they're not normally this easy to read," he answered.

"But bless them, it's pretty exciting."

She felt him sigh, but he didn't answer.

"Isn't it?"

"Yes...and no."

She was about to question him further, but there was no time. The music changed and all attention was once again on the entrance.

* * *

The doors had been closed after Soraya's entrance and Lena stared at the dark oak, clinging to her father's hand like a life raft. In front of the doors, atop a marble plinth, housed in a glass case, lay a beautiful diamond crown.

Her crown.

Everyone had probably walked past it, admiring it, marvelling at the way the hundreds of diamonds caught the light.

Lena could hardly bear to look at it. If she did, then it was real, and... Shit.

She'd lost count of the number of battles she'd fought, how many Fallen she'd slayed, the near misses she'd had. Never once had she felt this afraid. Fear was not an emotion she felt often, and she had no idea how to handle it.

Her father squeezed her hand and she glanced up at him, his colourless eyes so full of pride. "I am not often lost for words, daughter mine, but I do not think there are words for what I see before me."

He spoke with such tenderness, she felt tears prick her eyes. "Father," she whispered.

"Oh Goddess, do not cry! There are many things I have chosen to face in this life. The wrath of the Princess is not one of them."

That made her laugh and she blinked back the tears. "I'm not sure I can do this," she said, suddenly sobering.

Heath took a deep breath, squaring his bony shoulders. "Of course you can. You are a Guardian, and Steward of the Watch to boot. More than that, you are my daughter."

"The whole damned race is here!"

He sighed. "It doesn't matter. I had to be told who attended my handfasting because I have absolutely no recollection whatsoever."

Her brow knitted. "I don't understand."

"I do not remember because I only had eyes for your mother." His breath hitched, eyes wet with tears. "She was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen, from the day I first saw her to the day I lost her, but that day... That day." His eyes fluttered closed.

Lena's throat felt tight. Her father's love for Cassandra was so deep it became tangible—brilliant and vibrant and so raw; it hurt to feel it.

Heath blinked and shook his head, his emotions back under control. "What I mean to say is that it doesn't matter how many people are on the other side of that door because there is only one that counts, and he's waiting for you."

Thorn. That was really all he needed to say. She nodded.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

Heath produced an elegant gold key from his pocket, unlocked the cabinet, and carefully took out the crown. "It's heavier than I remember," he said as he placed it on her head. He took a step back to admire her.

"I look stupid, don't I?"

"The last time I placed that crown on a woman's head, I thought I'd never seen a lovelier bride—Thorn's mother was, after all, a very handsome woman—but I was wrong. You, darling daughter, are simply stunning."

Despite her misgivings, she smiled. "I suppose there's no time like the present, is there?"

"No indeed."

The music changed and the huge, arched doors swung open. Lena stared at her feet, having a moment of panic as she heard the guests gasp and sigh at her. Her father gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and she took a deep breath, raised her head and looked straight ahead.

The hundreds of faces staring at her faded away. The trumpets ceased playing.

Her father was right. None of that even entered her mind because there was only one person who mattered—who would ever matter.

Thorn.