They were moving tomorrow.

Graydon had finished packing his things days ago, but Ara had been running around like a chicken with her head cut off since dawn. In the two months since he returned home to discover he had a new roommate named Moonstriker, she added an additional two horses, Emerald and Clementine. Much of her time was spent reviving the stables behind the cottage, and every evening when she came in smelling like hay, he reminded her to pack.

Apparently, she’d just been saying I knooooooow for show.

It was 8 p.m. by the time Ara declared the task finally complete. They’d likely encounter some last minute panic in the morning, but so long as they remembered the horses and the little box he’d been hiding since his quest with the Beastbane Guild, Graydon was sure they’d figure it out.

Hand-in-hand, they took one last stroll into the village that had brought them so much peace and happiness. They’d outgrown it, but that didn’t stop tears from collecting at the corners of Ara’s eyes.

They ended up at the tavern and ordered everything on the menu that they hadn’t already tried. They talked for hours about how ridiculous it was that they’d lived there for so long yet hadn’t had the honeymoss bread or known the king prawns came in a literal golden chalice.

When Ara slipped away to powder her nose—her words—Bilius, the bartender, approached their table with a jovial smile and a towel over his shoulder. “D’ya pop the question yet?”

Graydon scowled. “It’s not necessary to ask every time you see me.”

“Clearly it is or you’d of done it by now.”

It wasn’t the first time Graydon wondered if Bilius could possibly be related to Ed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “Go back to the bar, Bilius.”

A chortle. “I’m just sayin’ the two of you are more in love than anyone, and it’s the perfect night for it.” He gestured at the window. “Sérith’s about to start.”

Graydon unfurled from his grumpy slouch. “That’s tonight?”

Bilius simply clapped him on the shoulder as he walked away, and Ara soon returned to the table. “Did you just survive an encounter with Bilius without putting your brooding face on?”

“I guess the impending move has me feeling sentimental,” he deflected.

Ara smiled softly. “Me too.”

So they left the tavern with the intention to do one last loop of the village. Their journey tomorrow was in the opposite direction, and they wouldn’t be coming back. Yet no sooner had they stepped onto the cobblestone street than music met their ears.

The village square had transformed. Residents and visitors danced around the fountain, and magical displays swirled through the air like fireworks. While they’d eaten, a festival had sprung to life.

“What is this?” Ara breathed. She sent her sparks to join the dance in the sky.

Graydon swallowed. “Sérith.”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Her eyes were pink with winder as she took his hand and led him toward the crowd. Magic sparkled all the way from the fountain to the humble Immortal temple down the road, where a few couples were making their way.

“It only happens every twenty-five years or so,” he said.

Ara twirled back to face him, hair fanning over the slim straps of her dress. “What’s it about?”

“Just some old folktale about warriors returning from battle.”

Her nose wrinkled. “It doesn’t look like it has anything to do with war.”

“Well, they made it home alive to the people that loved them.” Graydon cleared his throat. “The tale goes on to say there were so many weddings that day that the priestesses were up all night officiating.”

Ara’s eyes flared, and her attention shot to couples lined up at the temple. “So tonight …?”

“The temple will stay open, marrying anyone and everyone who isn’t too drunk to sign the parchment.”

“Oh.”

He might have laughed at that awkward bleat of a word were it not a rejection of sorts. No, not a rejection but a reminder. They were reading the same book, but that didn’t mean they were currently on the same chapter—

“Do you wanna do it?”

Graydon blinked. “What?”

Ara’s cheeks turned bright red. “I—sorry.”

“Are you saying …?”

“It just came out. Sorry—unless you want—actually, I’m not going to talk anymore.” Her eyes ballooned, and she covered her mouth with both hands. “Forget it.”

“So you didn’t just propose to me a second time?”

“A second …” The blush spread to her ears. “You promised you wouldn’t listen to the voicemail!”

“Obviously, I listened to it. They were your dying words.”

“They weren’t. I’m alive—”

“Ara.”

Graydon tugged on her hand, bringing them chest-to-chest. His soulbound looked up at him with rainbow eyes, and suddenly, he could feel every sip of the dinner wine coursing through his system. This wasn’t how he’d imagined this moment. He was unprepared. Yet Ara had a knack for the unpredictable, and he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t one of the things he loved about her.

“Ara,” he said again, voice thickening. “I would consider it the greatest honor of my life to marry you.”

The most beautiful smile bloomed on Ara’s face, and he felt himself mirror the expression. He felt it in his soul.

“Come on, then,” she sniffled, her grin turning mischievous. “The line’s getting long.”

Graydon laughed and let her pull him into a jog. For thirty minutes, they inched toward the temple doors, their hearts beating in their throats. One by one, the couples ahead of them disappeared inside only to return a few minutes later, beaming and holding their joined hands high over their heads. The crowd cheered every single time.

And then it was their turn.

It would take Graydon and Ara three years to admit to each other that neither of them really remembered the ceremony. It was a blur of impossibly wide smiles, their shaking hands joined between them. The priestess said only the few lines that were legally necessary, their vows were short and unrehearsed.

“Forever,” Ara said, candlelight reflecting on the teary cheeks. “Longer if you’re not sick of me.”

Nerves and adoration made Graydon laugh too loud. “Forever,” he promised with everything he had. “And I’ll never get sick of you.”

Their hands only parted to sign their names on parchment with feather-topped pens. One copy for the temple’s records and one that Graydon carefully tucked into his pocket.

Graydon & Ara Marr.

When they were pronounced husband and wife, Ara cried so much she almost forgot to kiss him. “They’re h–happy t–tears,” she sobbed before flinging her arms around his neck and stealing his breath away.

Graydon discovered a new type of kiss that night. Every bit as deep and passionate as the ones they’d shared prior, but more than that … this kiss felt complete.

Strangers cheered as they emerged from the temple, the warmth of the party ready to sweep them up with open arms. Bright-eyed and grinning, Ara pulled him into the crowd. They danced until their feet hurt, but the smiles never left their faces. Ara’s magic never ceased to sparkle around them like stars.

They walked home, elbows linked. Fell into bed and didn’t sleep. Golden light threatened a sunrise when they finally collapsed in the sheets, their limp, exhausted limbs woven into a happy knot.

Ara graced him with a dopey smile. “Will we have time to stop by a jeweler on the way to Eryndral?”

“If you’d like.” Graydon kissed the words against the bare skin beneath her collarbone, and his fingers traced soft patterns over her waist. He smiled as she shivered. “Why?”

“Because married people wear rings.”

His heart swelled too big for his chest.

Ara plucked his left hand from her side and kissed his knuckles. Her gaze was the loveliest shade of gold. “They don’t need to be fancy … just something to let all those heart-eyed tavern wenches know you’re mine.”

Graydon lifted a brow. “I haven’t been approached by any wenches.”

“That’s because I’m so good at fending them off. You have no idea how tiring it is.”

His laugh wisped away, taken by the sight of Ara’s roguish smile. Sunlight had just peeked its first beam through the curtains, painting her hair and miles of skin in shades of orange. It still stunned him; she was the most beautiful woman he would ever see. That most people would ever see.

Smiling, Graydon said, “ I think I might be more familiar with that fight than you realize.” She blushed, and he kissed her shoulder. “Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about anyone trying to steal you on our journey.”

Ara’s brows ticked up as he propped himself on his elbow and sent magic to where his travel bag leaned neatly by the door. He unlatched the straps, dipped into the front pocket. A small velvet box zoomed to his waiting hand.

He gave it to Ara, and her eyes welled.

“You were already going to propose,” she whispered, stroking her thumb across the velvet. “How long?”

“Open it, and I’ll tell you.”

Graydon held his breath as she pinched the lid between her thumb and index finger. As she lifted it, that impossible rainbow light he’d been so carefully hiding shimmer through the gap.

Ara gasped and sat upright. “Graydon, this is …”

Her hand tightened on his arm, and heart still pounding, he said, “It’s called a unicorn opal.”

Her kaleidoscope eyes widened as she peered down at the large, rainbow stone twinkling from a gold band. It was almost clear like a diamond, yet flecks of iridescent color sparkled from within, catching far more light than the room contained.

Ara had grown up with money, still occasionally spent it at a rate that gave him whiplash. Yet there was no amount of gold Graydon could pay to give a ring meaning.

When he’d found an old sketch of this exact stone and read its ridiculous name, he’d known immediately that nothing else could ever grace her finger.

“It’s glowing,” she breathed. “I’m not imagining that, right?”

Graydon sat up beside her. “According to legend, there’s magic trapped in the stone. The scholars don’t really understand why it happened, and it’s never been replicated, but yes … the glow is real.”

Ara looked at him. “Are you saying this is the only one?”

“I should hope so.” He grinned. “The Kragvorn was pretty upset that I took it.”

Her hand came up to rest over her neck. “The quest … that was for me?”

“I thought you deserved something just as sparkly as you are.” She seemed in shock, and he added as self-consciousness trickled in, “If you don’t like it, we can choose something else—”

Ara tackled him into the pillows and strangled him in a hug. “You’re so stupid, Graydon. Of course I like it,” she wept.

He laughed and held her until she was composed enough to hold her hand steady. Gently, he slid the ring onto her finger.

The unicorn opal seemed to glow brighter there, like it could read Ara’s magic and soul, and fully approved.