The room isn’t large, which is an asset for this event. There are two pews on either side of the aisle, each capped with a bouquet of crimson roses tied with a shining silver ribbon, a perfect match for her dress thanks to the swatch Juliette provided. The aisle itself is a deep red runner in the same shade. As I watch, Helen walks up to Psyche and hands over another, larger bouquet of the same arrangement.
The shock on Psyche’s face deepens as she looks around the room. I see her register that everyone is wearing some variation of red, black, and silver. Even Hades, though his black-on-black suits seem to be the only clothing he owns. A photographer who I hired edges around the room, the snap of his camera the only sound for one long moment.
Then the music rises, a variation of the wedding march that sounds almost like a dirge. From her small smile, she finds it as fitting as I do. Almost like an inside joke between just the two of us.
Psyche takes the first step toward the altar—toward me—and meets my gaze. Her smile widens, and even as I tell myself it’s all for show, I can’t help the warmth that blooms in my chest. I know this isn’t what she wants. If she’s like Helen and Eris, she’s had plans for her wedding from when she was a little girl, and I hardly expect that those plans included marrying the son of her mother’s enemy in front of an audience of five.
I can’t change that, but the least I can do is give her this gift. Something photograph-worthy. This wedding might not be a good memory, but at least the publicity in its aftermath won’t embarrass her.
She and Demeter make their way to the altar and stop a few steps away. Hermes clears her throat, looking delighted by this whole experience. “Who gives this woman’s hand in marriage?”
“I do.” Demeter moves forward and places Psyche’s hand in mine. She smiles sweetly as if delighted to be here, but her low words drip poison. “If you do anything to bring my daughter harm in any way, I will gut you and leave you for my pigs.”
I’ve heard rumors about Demeter and her pigs, but I’ve never been able to substantiate any of them. “I’ll take that into consideration.”
“See that you do.” She presses a kiss to Psyche’s cheek and then moves to sit next to Persephone in the front row.
We stand before the altar, and all I can do is stare at Psyche. This woman, this brilliant and fierce creature, will be mine in truth the moment I slip my ring on her finger, the moment we both say “I do.” This was only meant to be a way to keep Psyche among the living, but sometime in the last twelve hours, it’s turned into something else altogether. I will keep this woman safe.
Fuck, I’m just going to flat out keep her.
I barely listen to Hermes, barely manage to repeat the proper words to get this thing done. My hands actually shake as I slip the giant diamond onto Psyche’s ring finger. I’m undone.
For her part, my new wife doesn’t seem to have the same problem. Her voice is perfectly even as she repeats the same vows. Her fingers are cool against my skin as she slips the ring on. She smiles sweetly at me, and I surprise myself with how badly I want it to be real.
“You may kiss the bride.”
I don’t hesitate. I step forward, closing the distance between us, and cup her face. If I were a better man, I’d never touch this woman with hands that have committed such violence, but I’m selfish right down to my core. I kiss her, filling that one moment with so much promise, she’s melting against me.
Someone—I think Eris—clears her throat, and I manage to lift my head, though I don’t drop my hands. I smile down at Psyche. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she whispers.
“We did it.”
She wraps her hands around my wrists and gives me a little squeeze. “We’re not done yet.”
With that in mind, I lace my fingers through hers and we turn to face the room. Helen and Eris have careful expressions in place, as if they still can’t quite believe this happened. I expect I’m going to hear it from both of them later when they have more time. Demeter has an excellent poker face, but I’ve seen her use that same serene smile before systematically cutting her opponents off at the knees. Hades glowers, but he always seems to glower. Persephone beams, but I don’t miss the promise of violence in her hazel eyes.
This marriage is going to set off all sorts of chaos.
Strangely enough, I can’t wait.
Hermes makes a happy sound. “I now present to you, Mr. Eros Ambrosia and Ms. Psyche Dimitriou.”