As Turner watched the goddess, he was reminded of Bridget’s stories about her.

Annani looked otherworldly and awe-inspiring. Even her voice was too beautiful to belong to a human. And yet, despite the glow and the inhuman beauty, the tiny female on top of the podium didn’t inspire fear.

She inspired love.

It wasn’t only in the words she spoke, although there was ancient wisdom in them, it was in her entire demeanor. Somehow she was the mother, and the lover, and the angel, and a temptress. Annani was an impossible amalgamation of all female archetypes. Young, and yet ancient, inhuman, and yet more human than most.

For the first time in his life, Turner felt inferior, and it didn’t even bother him. There was no comparison between a human, no matter how talented and unique, and this godly creature. She was other through and through, and yet somehow approachable. Not to him, as long as he was still a human, but to every member of her clan.

Her people loved her. He could see it in their expressions. Heck, he could feel it reverberating through the crowd.

Love.

It must’ve been an incredible force if even he felt it. Like a powerful flame, it melted his ice shield, leaving him exposed, raw.

It was damn terrifying.

But was it really Annani’s doing?

Perhaps the ice shield had been developing cracks for a while now, just waiting for the tiniest of hammers to deliver the final blow that would shatter it to pieces.

“What’s wrong?” Vanessa, who he’d just noticed was standing next to him, asked in a whisper.

He shook his head. “Indescribable.”

She chuckled quietly. “Yeah, I know. One can never get used to her impact.”

The goddess finished her short speech with the traditional, “You may kiss the bride.” It was the only nod to the wedding traditions Turner was familiar with.

That, and the groomsmen and the bridesmaids. Then again, the bride and her bridesmaids were all wearing saris. Bridget’s was green, and it accentuated her red hair beautifully. She sneaked a little smile and a hand wave at him as Bhathian lifted Eva in his arms and kissed her.

The crowd erupted in claps and cheers.

The goddess’s cheerful laugh rippled through the noise as if carried on a different wavelength. She lifted her glowing arms. “My children, let us celebrate this blessed union. Eat, drink, dance, and be merry!”

Music blasted from loudspeakers mounted on poles around the village square, and the podium, which the goddess had used for both ceremonies, was turned into a dance floor in a matter of minutes.

Except, the dancing wasn’t done in couples.

The groomsman, together with others, Guardians by the looks of them, started forming a line on the stage.

“Come on, Turner.” Anandur beckoned him. “Come dance with us.”

He shook his head. “You go ahead.”

“Don’t be a wuss. What’s the matter, you have stage fright?”

Damn, Anandur must’ve figured out that Turner was incapable of refusing a challenge.

“Go!” Vanessa pushed him forward.

“Do you want to come?” he asked her.

She laughed. “I don’t know the steps to the sword dance. But I love watching the guys do it, especially since my son is up there. Jackson told me that you’re a great dancer. Bridget will be disappointed if you don’t join in.”

Now he really had no choice. Besides, perhaps the goddess was watching. She might warm to him if she saw him dancing with her kin.

“Fine.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Anandur jumped down and strode toward him. He wrapped his arm around Turner’s shoulders. “We dance, and we get drunk. That’s the Guardian tradition.”

“I’m not a Guardian.”

Anandur waved a hand. “Technicality. I think of you as one of us. An honorary Guardian.”

That was news to him. “What made you change your mind? A few days ago you were trying to convince me to stay in the car while you and the other two real Guardians went in.”

“I was wrong. You did well. I’ll gladly have you at my side in a fight. You can think fast, and I can swing fast.” Anandur made a fist and demonstrated.

It seemed that the guy was already drunk. Though Turner wasn’t sure if it was on whiskey or on the wave of love the goddess had released into the air.

As they climbed up the podium, Turner was dwarfed by the burly men. For a moment, he felt self-conscious about being the shortest guy on the stage, but then he glanced at the tiny goddess and smiled.

She was by far the smallest figure among the crowd watching the podium, and yet she eclipsed them all. Size didn’t matter. It was the inner power that made the difference.

Annani took his breath away as she smiled back at him.

Reflexively, Turner bowed.

She dipped her head in acknowledgment, honoring him beyond measure.

Anandur grabbed a huge set of bagpipes. Another immortal, whom Turner didn’t know, jumped on the podium with a large drum strapped to his middle.

Jackson, who was a baker and not a Guardian, and the youngest of the men on the podium, took center stage.

“Follow my lead, guys,” he said before nodding to Anandur.

This was very different than the short number they had done at the bachelorette party. The men danced on and on, and at some point, Turner had to concede defeat. There was no way he could keep up with them.

Thankfully, Kian stepped down too, allowing Turner to save face as he followed.

“You look winded, my friend.” He clapped Turner’s back.

“I was a second away from passing out. Thank you for bailing me out.”

Kian laughed. “Any time. You should know when to quit. For a human, keeping up with immortals is difficult. Keeping up with Guardians is impossible.”

“I found out the hard way.”

“You did well, for an old human, that is. Come on, let me get you a drink.”

Turner glanced at the crowd watching the dance, looking for a head of fiery red hair, but the only one he spotted belonged to the goddess. Bridget and the other bridesmaids had disappeared.

“I don’t know if I should drink.” He was already lightheaded from exertion. Alcohol was going to make it worse.

Kian cast him a hard look. “It’s a wedding. Tradition demands that you get at least a little drunk.”

Bridget hadn’t mentioned that part. But then she might have thought it didn’t need mentioning. After all, most of her clansmen came from Scotland.

“Do the women get drunk too?”

“If they want to, but for the guys it’s mandatory.” Kian winked.

Was he joking? It was hard to tell.

“Well, if it’s tradition, I guess I can honor it with a couple of drinks.”