Chapter 21: The Wedding of Four

They married him in the orchard at Moorhaven, in the last week of the second moon.

The apple trees had decided to bloom out of season.

Nobody could explain it.

The old steward said it was the scent, and the one-eyed elder of Apocalypse said it was the pups, and Lucas said it was probably the compost.

Half the kingdom had come.

The three packs stood in their furs and their colours along the long white tables.

The omegas of Atalis sat in the front rows, with their hands in their laps and nothing to hide.

The King sat in a carved chair at the end of the aisle in a warm cloak.

He looked ten years younger, and he was crying without any shame at all.

Lucas walked up between the trees in a plain white coat with a ring of apple blossom in his dark hair.

His heart was going hard, and he felt, for once, entirely awake.

At the end of the aisle, the three of them waited in a row.

Troy was in black and gold, big and grinning.

He had a small round curve under his waistcoat that he kept touching.

Felix stood in silver-grey with his hair loose for the first time, pale eyes steady, one hand folded over his stomach.

Julius wore red-brown leather, and no one had seen him look so unsure of himself.

"You look ridiculous," Troy said, low, as Lucas arrived.

"You're crying."

"I'm not."

"You're crying, Troy."

"It's the blossom," said Troy, and wiped his face on his sleeve.

The King rose, with an elder's help, and held up both hands.

"Before the Moon and the Court, I will ask what the law once forbade," he said. "Who comes to this man?"

"I do," said Troy.

"I do," said Felix.

"I do," said Julius. "All of me."

"Who takes them?"

Lucas looked at the three of them, and he thought of a couch, and a dark screen, and a life where nobody had ever asked him what he wanted.

"I do," he said. "All three. Every day."

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