{Ishkur | Chalet}

Korac had never felt more sure and more right about anything in his long life.

Sagan.

Her name was synonymous with trust, acceptance, sex, and love for him.

So why was Korac fretting so much with his ensemble and constantly checking his hair? Straightening his matte black cufflinks for the thousandth time.

When he asked for Chris’ advice earlier, it was in absence of another paternity figure. But that wasn’t exactly true. Since commandeering Ishkur, Korac had upcycled Zero three times to ask for help with its operation. All three times, the Exalted proudly and gladly assisted the Shadow, especially with terraforming for the different species. ‘Eager’ was the right word. But in all three instances, Korac had tried to ask his father about Razor and the Aegis’ treatment of him. ‘Remote’ didn’t cover it. Zero’s answers were clinical and alien.

“Three Two Four was an experiment of our reproduction outside the Seam. He was born with small bones and the Inanis affliction. We considered him a deficit to our race.”

Inside his mind, Korac stared hard at the tall Aegis with hollow rings for pupils. He reasoned, “But his small bones were nature. How he employed Inanis was nurture. It resulted from your unkindness.”

Zero cocked his head to the side in an avian gesture Korac had trademarked. The Exalted asked, “Are you suggesting we’re responsible for Inanis?”

This required a deep breath to maintain patience before Korac answered, “The incident with Ishkur was an accident, but it was the direct consequence of you and his—our—brothers neglecting Razor.”

The silence between them grew uncomfortable after such a great length of time. Then Zero abruptly requested, “Please, cycle me down.”

Korac hadn’t upcycled him for a month, but perhaps this occasion called for it. Standing in front of the mirror, he summoned Zero forth. When the Aegis leader answered, Korac sighed in unexpected relief. Nerves were a bitch. He stared into foreign eyes in the mirror and asked, “Do you know what today is?”

The Exalted lifted Korac’s lips into a proper beam. “How could I not? It resonates in your consciousness and ours. Your matrimony elates us.”

Again, a wave of relief washed over Korac. “Thank you.”

“The Atheneum and the Seamswalker. Quite the match.”

Korac smiled at his father, but the nerves returned. He asked, “Why am I anxious?”

A warm smile crossed the Exalted’s face. “A lifetime commitment is significant with lifespans as long as ours. That and…”

When his father didn’t finish his sentence, Korac pressed, “Yes?”

“You paid a high price for this bliss. Perhaps you’re primed to expect further disaster.”

That felt right. Damn, it felt exactly right.

Korac nodded, unable to speak. Something loomed. Or was it survivor’s guilt? It took so much to get here. How could he not feel anxious about something ruining it? Or how could he take his mind off the people they’d lost?

“Korac.”

Inside his mind, Zero stood within reach of Korac, who asked, “Yes?” Father.

The man’s smile was kind and unexpected, given his effect was normally so alien. Zero said, “Let yourself be happy today with your love. Nox would want this for you. Rayne would demand it, if only for Sagan’s sake. Besides…” He reached up and dusted Korac’s shoulder, looking into the mirror. “Once you lay eyes on her, these anxieties will vanish. I speak from experience.”

Zero was absolutely right, of course. The vision of Sagan’s violet eyes glowing from across the aisle…

Yes.

“Thank you… father.”

The Exalted beamed and gave a bow of his head. Internally, he stepped back and waited for the down cycle. “Until the next time.”

When Korac opened his eyes, they were normal. Well, normal for him, and the nerves were somewhat tamed compared to earlier. He called to the other bedroom, “Lucas, have you finished with our General Warden?”

Pehton answered, “Yes. And I hate you.”

Korac chuckled. Her torture was a sweet distraction from the big day jitters. “If you hate me, it’s only because I was right and you look spectacular.”

Lucas came to the doorway, beaming. “I’d have to say I agree with you, Korac.” He’d changed into a silver brocade three-piece with a black necktie. His sandy blond hair was smoothed into a styled ponytail, letting his eyes shine without obstruction. He said, “Good choice. Although the bondage fetish is more your and Sagan’s trademark, is it not?”

Korac smirked. The straps weren’t that bad. “Let me see.”

Pehton stepped out with more confidence than Korac was sure she’d intended, because how could one not feel confident when they looked like a goddess? The stylists had dipped each of her feathers in liquid silver leaf and braided them down her back, shining and contrasting beautifully with her pitch-black skin. Lucas painted one stripe of silver down the center of her lips and one down each of her eyelids. Korac had commissioned the tux tailored to her petite figure. Black, of course—They left the jacket open to expose her breasts strapped in thin silver bands, revealing enough to tantalize the imagination. Thick black straps hugged her ass and legs, flattering her height. Accented with silver piping, they complimented the silver six-inch stilettos lacing up her exposed ankles.

Oh, and they couldn’t forget the collar. A simple silver band circled her throat.

Despite her ire, Pehton enjoyed it. Korac could see it on her face. With a reluctant huff, she said, “I’ll admit. I look good.”

Lucas laughed. “Just ‘good?’ Darling, you look like a wet dream.”

Korac and Pehton turned simultaneously to gawk at the Imperial Stylist, who shrugged.

She gave an incredulous laugh. “But how will I get this off? It took four people to get me in it.”

With a click of his tongue, Korac folded his arms, considering.

She pushed, “What?”

He said, “Well, I thought you’d have more confidence in Caedes’ abilities six months into the relationship. Perhaps I overestimated him—”

Flying pillows. Evasive maneuvers.

“Now, now. Let’s not destroy my masterpiece,” Lucas argued reasonably. “Besides, it’s time for you two to leave for the venue, and for me to visit the bride.” He took a step into Korac’s personal space and adjusted his tie before walking to the door with a backward shot, “Break a wing.”

Korac called, “Take care of my girl.”

“I think what I look forward to most during the ceremony is when you two see each other.” With a wave, Lucas departed for the Palatial Grounds.

Pehton gazed at Korac, mouth a little open. It was her first time seeing him all finished. Now that she was done, did the Best Man upstage the groom? Lucas had tailored Korac’s silk black slacks to emphasize the length of his legs and accentuate the definition of his quads. The tails of his black tuxedo jacket brushed the backs of his knees, framing him with the purple piped lapels. The vest matched the purple tie over his black silk button down. Matte black buttons finished the look.

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Pehton’s ensemble didn’t outshine Korac’s tux, but her feathers certainly surpassed his hair. Lucas had woven three separate braids along Korac’s scalp on either side and one full braid across the top, which was finished in a full ponytail. Black and violet ribbon were threaded throughout each braid. The Imperial Stylist finished the effect with black diamonds and deep amethysts, fixed here and there. Pretty, but how did one compete with hand-dipped silver feathers?

The General Warden beamed at Korac. “Damn. Let me see.” She crossed the room with a strut, feeling herself and making Korac smirk, to take his hand. With an incredulous laugh, Pehton said, “I knew you wouldn’t skip even this detail.”

Matte black nail polish with amethysts set in the center of each nail. Korac shook his head, equally incredulous. “You know me so well.”

Pehton’s garnet eyes were a little glassy as she said, “We’ve been through so much together. I’ll see you through this and everything beyond it. You’re my best friend, Korac.”

He kept his face serious as he cupped her chin and leaned all the way down until he was an inch from her lips. Pehton’s eyes crossed and widened slightly this close to him. Korac saw her pulse flutter in her neck. Cruel. He was so cruel because, while he flirted often, he never meant to follow through. “Don’t ruin your mascara, General Warden.”

Pehton fumed—As in Siren’s Gale fumed.

Korac kissed her vermeil feathers with a teasing laugh. “I love you, too. C’mon. Let’s go to the springs. Xelan’s probably there already, pacing a rut in the dirt.” He left Pehton in his chalet, glaring at him, and took a moment on his cleared walkway outside to appreciate the snowy glade surrounded by pines and cedars. Only stars were missing from the view, a velvet night sprinkled with diamond dust. He made a note to suggest a cosmos projection or something to Xelan.

Pehton finally exited the chalet. “Why springs anyway?” she asked, as they went through the first conduit.

In the special shrine meant for Shadow only, Korac explained, “I know it’s hard to imagine, but once, long ago, mine and Sagan’s relationship hinged on a decision for both of us. In Sagan’s case, it was to trust me—An enemy General who had witnessed his King commit terrible atrocities. And in my case, I needed to decide who I wanted to serve more—A woman full of optimism and hope that I fell in love with, or…”

A shadow form with mirror eyes mouthing words.

Nacre. What?

Would Korac ever figure it out—

“You loved Nox so much.” Pehton stated the painful but obvious. “I know Sagan, so I don’t have to ask if she was really that special. Still, I know it wasn’t a straightforward decision. But why the springs?”

Korac laughed. “Oh, right. It’s where we made our decisions and had sex for the first time. Great, mind-blowing, foundation-shattering sex.” He left her behind again, as he stepped through the final conduit into the venue. He got way too much satisfaction out of leaving that Lyrik with her jaw on the floor. Korac chuckled—

“What’s so amusing?”

The Iona General turned to find Xelan dressed in a classic James Bond tuxedo. All ‘shaken, not stirred’ against the black maples and pines backdrop. Korac stated the truth. “Nice suit.”

The Co-Emperor ran a hand through his utterly unadorned hair. “Thanks. You look…”

The expression accompanying that pause swelled Korac’s chest with pride and confidence. And a bit of conceit. “Don’t strain yourself. I already had to resuscitate Pehton.”

“Oh, you wish.” She stepped through the conduit with acute timing. The Lyrik walked right up to Xelan and dabbed a black handkerchief against his mouth. “There. Every now and again I wish someone would do that much for me around him, but alas…”

Korac barked out a laugh echoed by Xelan’s chuckle.

Pax tore through the clearing. “Uncle Korac!” He jumped up.

Of course, Korac caught him. “Hey, nephew mine, are you ready to party?”

“I brought a straw.” Pax held it out, all proud.

Xelan chuckled and held his arms out for his son. “C’mon. You don’t want to ruin Uncle Korac’s tux before he can marry Auntie Sagan. Do you?”

The boy in his matching tux ignored his father because he was gaping at Pehton.

An orange blush crept on her cheeks. “Am I not appropriate for public?”

“You look beautiful,” Xelan said as he set Pax on his feet. “He’ll get used to the feathers.”

Korac clapped his hands together, delighting the kid, saying, “Our party is all together. What about everyone else?”

Xelan grinned. “I cannot wait for you to see Sagan.”

Korac knew his grin was goofy because Pehton melted at it. But how could the Iona General help himself? Thoughts of Sagan were the only thing which calmed his nerves, and the thought of her dressed for this occasion…

This was Korac’s happy place.

Outside of this spring, the Concerted Empire was gathered for their ceremony. Overseers would televise it across Ishkur. But inside this clearing, it was only the Shadow. Family, Korac supposed.

The reception was more public, held at the Palatial Grounds. Sagan would Seamswalk them straight into it, and they were expected to give an address.

No wonder Korac was nervous.

Xelan patted him on the back, interrupting his thoughts. “They’re gathering. Are you ready?”

Tameka came to fetch them and her son. Matron of Honor.

God.

Damn.

Was she trying to upstage Korac?

Her black gown plunged to where it belted at her hips and gaped open to her feet from there. Open bell sleeves draped to the ground. Her dramatic heels gave her legs some length. She let her red coils speak for themselves, unadorned like her mate’s hair. Her freckles stood out with silver glitter sprinkled across them like fairy dust.

Korac had to say something. “Fury.”

She and Pax lingered at the edge of the clearing, waiting for Korac to continue.

Xelan smiled, as if he knew exactly how fantastic his woman looked.

Korac said, “Be honest. Were you determined to steal my thunder?”

What a smile. Peace looked good on Tameka. “Wait until you see your bride.” With that, she went to join the rest of the wedding party.

Pehton nudged him. “You ready—”

The Afflicted One Seamswalked into the clearing, wearing a pale purple shift dress. She blinked those wild, Atramentous eyes at him, and Korac wrapped his arms around her. Fuck decorum and composure. “I’m so glad you came.”

T.a.o. patted his side, unable to reach around him for her tiny stature. “The stars whisper of your names, bade me come. I stand at your side. Always.”

“You will, yes. We made a position for you there.”

Xelan reached out, and T.a.o. took his hand. She said, “Father.”

“T.a.o.”

Pehton gave a happy sigh. “This is good. Now, are you ready?”

Korac headed for the wedding. “Yes. I am.”

They followed Tameka and Pax’s trail into the springs. Korac’s anxiety spiked when he took in all the faces of their loved ones, sitting in rented chairs, waiting. They gasped, and some clapped as the groomsmen entered.

Someone whistled—

It was Bones.

His cat calling helped with the nerves.

Iuo waited patiently at the arbor decorated in purple and black flowers. Their axes were mounted to its pinnacle. The King Elect had teared up when Korac and Sagan asked him to officiate. The Lamia was tearing up now as they filed in line on the right side.

Korac.

Pehton.

Xelan.

T.a.o.

And a black marble placeholder.

It was controversial, but both Sagan and Korac demanded placeholders. One for Rayne and one for Nox. Xelan and Tameka were not happy, but both caved with little protest. Understanding, thy name is Shadow.

On Sagan’s side, the bridesmaids stood waiting.

Tameka.

Matt, also in a simple tux.

Lynn, with her pregnancy glow in a lavender dress.

And a purple marble placeholder.

The anxiety mounted as the pre-event staging dragged on, waiting for something to go wrong. There weren’t bride and groom sides to the seats. Everyone sat with their nuclear groupings, which they’d naturally flocked to after Iona Day. The only person Korac needed to see—

There. In the front row, Karter sat up from playing with Echo in her bassinet to wave. Para and Chris followed suit. Korac gave them a composed nod.

Yup. Totally holding it together here.

Xelan leaned forward and started whispering to Korac, who knew the Co-Emperor was trying to soothe him. Damn it. It was both comforting and unnerving that Xelan knew his General so well. “Given the grandeur I’m used to seeing from you, I’m surprised you didn’t get married somewhere with more drama.”

Korac humphed to himself. It seemed everyone had an opinion about the venue.

Pehton agreed. “Right? Somewhere super exclusive and exotic.”

The string quartet started playing an Icarean Verse, and the audience of their loved ones stood. Pax grinned as he made his way up the aisle, dropping petals for the bride.

Contributing to the ongoing conversation, T.a.o. whispered, “Elden’s Nacre Chamber.”

Sagan Seamswalked to the beginning of the aisle—

And everything melted away.

No people.

No sound.

Just her and that smile. Korac changed the fate of Cinder for that smile.

It was shy and beaming all at once. The pale pink natural blush complimented her tan complexion and accentuated the dusting of freckles on her nose. Heavy liner accented the violet of her eyes. The rest of the makeup was understated. Lucas or Tameka had twisted her hair back from her face and tucked it behind and under. Little curled strands framed her cheekbones.

But that’s not what made the blood in Korac’s veins flow backward.

Sagan’s dress was black and elegant. The silky material plunged between her breasts to her navel, where the skirt draped from her hips like an understated mermaid cut.

But that wasn’t it either.

The dress was sheer. Through it, Korac could see all the individual Icarean union ribbons wrapped around her body, legs, and arms, like gloves.

“The more lacings you tie, the more faith you place in me to achieve this synchronized chorus.”

Mercy for his mind. Sagan’s faith in Korac banished all of his anxieties. He was ready for their wedding night.

Now.

Right at this moment.

So overwhelmed was he by the impulse to take her, it took Korac a minute to realize someone was with her. Sagan looped her arm through Andrew’s offered elbow, who was ‘giving her away’ according to Earth custom. In a tux, which Lucas clearly didn’t pick out, the young man smiled. But there was something ‘half’ about it. Half-sincere. Half-preoccupied. Or half-alive. The wattage of it increased once he and Sagan started walking toward Korac.

Only then did T.a.o.’s words sink in.

Nacre.

Chamber.

That’s what Nox was trying to say.