I looked toward the wooden railing that bounded the falls and the frothing pool beneath it. There, on the adjacent path, stood my friend and magical familiar, the incubus Max. Though Max preferred to be naked, today he’d donned a pair of pants for this special occasion. His crimson-streaked black hair was wild, though, and his coppery skin gave away his true nature.

He moved aside, and I saw Nevan.

My heart stuttered at the sight of him, like I hadn’t seen him just yesterday and every day for the past three months. Tall and ripped, dressed in only his loincloth, he looked like the hottest Tarzan ever to grace the silver screen, except for his bronze-sheened skin and the molten ribbons of bronze, gold, and silver whorling in his amber eyes. When he caught sight of me, he smiled—a broad, ebullient smile that made me shiver with delight.

I was about to marry that sizzling-hot man.

My dad cupped my elbow in his hand and guided me toward Nevan and Max, his best man for the ceremony. Beside Nevan, our officiant waited. Bob, full name Bobanzhistilanovitz, was an oracle and a sort-of friend. He liked me and Nevan and had volunteered to conduct the ceremony when he heard we were tying the knot. The oracle wore his favorite attire—a finely tailored, navy-blue suit that hugged his slender body and went well with his short gray hair, which he always kept slicked back.

I took my position alongside Nevan with Ennea on the other side of me. Nevan and I faced each other, and he clasped my hands. His broad smile had softened into a gentler expression, loving and adoring. Tears stung my eyes again, threatening to flow, but I blinked them away. A dizzying mix of emotions swelled in my chest, and I focused on Nevan’s face, on his warm hands holding mine.

“Welcome,” Bob said in his odd accent, and his green eyes glittered with an internal fire. “We have gathered here for the handfasting ceremony of Nevan, king of the sylphs, and Lindsey Astrid Porter, the Janusite.”

Why did he have to mention that? Sheesh, it wasn’t very romantic to be called the Janusite at my wedding. I hoped he wouldn’t recite the whole Janusite prophecy. So I had the powers of the Roman god Janus. Today, I was just a woman pledging her devotion and fidelity to the man she loved.

“These two individuals,” Bob continued, “have expressed their heartfelt desire to join their lives and their souls, to become one in the most elemental sense. Can anyone give a reason why they should not be joined in this way?”

No one spoke.

A trace of a chill whispered through me, but I pushed aside the disquieting sensation and focused on Nevan, gazing into his whirlpool eyes. My breaths grew heavier as if the air had become thicker. I hadn’t expected to feel this much, to be affected so deeply by a simple ceremony. Then again, we’d survived a hell of a lot to get here. I’d almost died, he’d almost died twice, and two worlds had nearly been destroyed.

My breaths grew more labored. I struggled to suck in air.

Nevan fought for breath too, his eyes widening.

This was more than excitement over the wedding. I glanced around and saw everyone, even Bob, gasping for air. My ears began to ring, and darkness encroached on my vision. My heart pounded as cold sweat broke out on my brow.

The ground trembled.

Nevan gripped my hands tighter.

A crack of thunder split the air, and the ground beneath us erupted.