She, Conlan, and the baby made their way through the room, chatting and laughing and making each person in their conversational orbit feel special.
“It’s a gift,” Quinn said, slipping her hand into Alaric’s and indicating her sister. “They make the royalty thing look easy, don’t they?”
“Long may they reign,” he replied. “Conlan suggested I might want to sit at the high table at dinner and serve in an ambassadorial capacity.”
She burst out laughing. “Has he met you?”
“I wondered the same thing,” Alaric said dryly. “I’m not exactly the most tactful or political person.”
“Suck it up, buttercup,” she whispered, still laughing, as the first of many of the Atlanteans and foreign guests came up to talk to them, barring them from escaping for a very long time.
Quinn escaped to a dark corner of the corridor that led to the banquet hall, and she sat down on a bench and immediately removed her shoes, sighing in blissful gratitude and relief. An icy breeze caressed her bare legs, and she smiled.
“I can fight battles on little sleep, march for hours on little food, and survive beatings and worse, but I have to admit I’ve met my match in these instruments of torture Riley made me wear,” she said to the seemingly empty corridor.
Alaric immediately materialized, his eyes glowing hot emerald green. “You sensed my presence.”
“I will always be able to sense your presence, especially now that we’re soul-melded,” she said, trying not to pounce on him. He was just so unbearably gorgeous in his ceremonial attire, and she had the privilege of knowing what he looked like underneath the silk and velvet. “So you can quit trying to sneak up on me.”
“I never sneak,” he said, joining her on the bench with his usual fluid grace. “I was merely trying to escape the party with some measure of subtlety, rather than tossing energy spheres at the Chinese ambassador when he spoke rudely to his wife.”
“You understand Chinese?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I speak all languages. It is one of the gifts that comes with the duties of Poseidon’s high priest.”
“About that,” Quinn began, hesitantly. “If you’ve changed your mind and want to keep your job—”
He lifted her chin with one finger and proceeded to devour her mouth with searing kisses that tasted like wine and spice and Alaric. She leaned into him and put her arms around his neck, not even caring that somebody could walk down the hall at any minute.
“I want to say I’ll race you to our rooms, but my feet hurt too much,” she admitted, when she finally pulled away.
He promptly lifted her feet into his lap and massaged them, adding tiny bursts of healing energy, so she was soon moaning in pleasure and relief.
“I’ll give you five minutes to cut that out,” she said, leaning her head back against the wall.
“I have a better idea,” he said. He scooped her up into his arms and strode off down the corridor, in the direction opposite to the banquet hall.
“My shoes,” she protested. “You left my shoes.”
“You hate the shoes, why would you care?” Alaric sounded honestly puzzled. “Is this to be like the cake conversation?”
“What cake conversation . . . Oh. That cake conversation. No, I gave up on that one after the Elvis bit,” she said, laughing in spite of herself.
“That,” he said decisively, “is entirely too bad.”
He turned into an open doorway, still carrying Quinn, and she was shocked to see that the room was full.
“Put me down,” she hissed at him, but he ignored her and strode to the front of the room, still carrying her, while everyone watched and grinned at them. Quinn’s face burned so hot she probably could have lit up all of Atlantis.
“Where are they?” Alaric called out, and just then a door opened in the near wall and Conlan and Riley stepped through into the room.
“We’re here,” Conlan said. “Are you ready?”
Alaric finally released Quinn so she could stand on her own two—bare—feet, and she blinked. “Ready for what?”
He took her hands. “We could not find an Elvis, but Queen Riley has informed us that the king of Atlantis has the legal power to perform a wedding.”
Quinn’s mouth fell open. “A wedding? Now?”
Alaric knelt gracefully before her. “Quinn Dawson, mi amara, heart of my heart and soul of my soul, will you wed me, bear my children, and remain by my side for all of eternity?”
Quinn blinked really hard, but several tears escaped as she stared at the most powerful man she had ever known, who knelt before her asking for her hand.
“I can never deserve you,” she whispered, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet.
“Wearing those red silk undergarments would go a long way toward changing that,” he said, flashing his most wickedly seductive grin.
“Alaric,” she said, flushing a hot red all over again.
But the laughter that surrounded them floated on waves of emotion that were warm, encouraging, and kind. She turned to see that the people in the room were in fact only the Warriors of Poseidon and their mates, and every single one of them felt like family.
Family.
“I believe I have waited more than long enough for your response,” Alaric said, his face beginning to show the strain of doubt.
“You knew my answer before you ever asked, my warrior priest,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. “Yes, and yes, and yes. Forever and ever.”
She kissed him, and only the repeated sound of royal throat clearing brought her out of it.
When Alaric put an arm around her and nudged her to turn toward Conlan, she realized that everyone in the room was paired up and also facing their new king and queen.
Conlan turned to each couple in turn, and before continuing, he waited for each to respond with their assent to the question, “Do you each take the other as beloved mate, husband and wife, for now and until the waters of the ocean run dry?”
He stood before them. “Alaric and Quinn.”
Even as Quinn said a fervent yes, Alaric took her hand and placed a silver ring, set with a beautiful sapphire, on her finger.
“Yes,” he said, looking into her eyes with his beautiful emerald gaze. “For always and eternity.”
Conlan and Riley smiled at them, and Riley sniffled a little, before they turned to the next couple. Quinn listened to the words, almost in a daze, as she stared at Alaric.
“Ven and Erin.”
“Justice and Keely.”
“Bastien and Kat.”
“Alexios and Grace.”
“Marie and Ethan.”
“Brennan and Tiernan.”
“Christophe and Fiona.”
“Serai and Daniel.”
When each of them had responded with a heartfelt assent, Conlan flung open and held wide his arms. “Then, without further ado, and by the authority vested in me as king of Atlantis, I now pronounce you husbands and wives,” he said, smiling. “And long may you live and love, standing by our side and ushering the next generation of Atlanteans into the world.”
A little cheering, a lot of kissing, and many tears and hugs later, Quinn and Alaric had congratulated and been congratulated by everyone in the room. Riley had hugged her tightly for a long time, saying over and over again how happy she was, and happily planning family dinners, but then Alaric and Ven walked to the door next to the one through which Conlan and Riley had arrived, and Ven shouted for quiet.
“We have a little surprise, boys and girls,” Ven said, grinning like a fool.
He and Alaric flung open the door and led the group into a courtyard garden that had been transformed into a private wedding reception just for the newly wedded couples and a few close friends.