The Dark Heir - Nyx

66. Nyx

"Thank you. I don't believe I deserve her, but somehow, I was blessed enough to have her," Nyx responded with a soft smile. The two males grinned wider.

"I'd say she has you, too. She hasn't had much luck in her life, but now you two get to change that," Azriel added. Nyx smiled down at his plate. He couldn't wait for the life they'd have together.

"You better go bathe and get pretty so Theia doesn't have any regrets," Cass teased. Nyx shot him a look of annoyance and amusement as he slid from his seat. He'd prepared the moment Theia had gone to the House of Wind. His suit was hung and impeccably steamed, his shoes polished. His nerves flared as he climbed the stairs. She'd been so afraid to marry him too soon, and Nyx couldn't help but fear that she wouldn't be there in the temple.

Nyx made quick work of stripping his sweaty and whiskey stained clothes from his body and started the tub. He wanted to look good for Theia. It was humorous, really. Nyx had always been aware of his looks yet when it came to Theia, he wanted to put all of his efforts to make her swoon.

Taking his time, Nyx soaked in the pine and spice aroma of his soap. When he had an hour left, Nyx dried off, tied the towel off on his hips, and began preening himself. His hands trembled slightly as he used the blade to carve out his beard, snipping the wild ends until the hair was formed to his jaw. Nyx ran an oil of spiced smells through his hair, combing it back and letting a few curled strands fall over his brows just like he knew Theia loved.

He took care in slipping his clothes on, pulling on the fitted black trousers with intricate silver detailing up each seam of the legs. His father, the aspiring stylist he is, suggested that Nyx wear a silver buttoned shirt. Nyx followed his instruction, struggling to button it beneath his wings without his bride's help. He left the top few buttons undone until the fabric met at the top of his abdomen, giving Theia a view of his dark ink and chest. A smirk lifted onto his lips at the thought of her pink cheeks and pretty eyes clinging to the exposed skin.

Next came the jacket, almost too snug around his wings. That same black fabric and silver threading, through the metallic details curled around the collar and down each side of his chest and stomach. Nyx wet his lips as he buttoned the one center button- just below the joining of the silver shirt- and gazed at himself in the mirror. He felt handsome; beautiful, even. Heart beginning to thunder, Nyx's eyes fell closed as he imagined his future wife. He knew she would steal his breath, his knees would be weak and threaten to drop him at her feet.

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting his daydream. Nyx cleared his throat and straightened the lapels of the jacket before pulling the door open. His father stood there, eyes downcast and hands behind his back. Nyx stepped back, allowing him in.

"You look-," Rhys interrupted himself by clearing his throat. His eyes scanned his son, almost glimmering. Emotion clogged Nyx's throat at the sight. His father had become emotional too often lately, it messed with his own. "You look like a High Lord, son. You look like a male who is confident in his life, his choices. I just... I just can't believe you're at this point. I can't believe you're getting married and, fuck, you're smiling. I'm proud of you, Nyx."

Rhys rubbed at his brows, shaking his head. Nyx let out a small laugh as tears blurred his vision, stepping forward and pulling his father in. Rhys's arms wrapped around him tightly and Nyx laid his head on his shoulder. For a long and silent moment, father and son held each other. Too overwhelmed by the emotion.

"I love you," Nyx whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and hiding his face in his father's shoulder. Rhysand's arms tightened, his shoulders shaking as though he were holding back sobs.

"I love you, too, son. Now, I promised your mother I'd give you something nice for that wild hair you have," Rhys said, stepping back. Nyx followed suit, wiping at his eyes with his thumb. He only just noticed the crown in his father's hand, thin and delicate. Silver and onyx molded together at the points, thin silver lines connecting them in a way that reminded Nyx of a spiderweb.

"A crown?" Nyx asked, glancing up at his father as he reached his hand out. Instead of handing it to him, Rhysand brought his hands up and placed it on Nyx's head. Small combs dug into his hair to hold it in place. Rhysand stepped back, his throat working on a swallow as he looked his son over.

"Wouldn't the Heir of the Night Court wear a crown? It's from the trove. Your mother is giving Theia a tiara as well," Rhysand explained. Nyx bit back a smile as he turned to gaze in the mirror. The small pires of silver and onyx rose from his black curls, looking as though they grew from his scalp. It fit well, him and the outfit.

"Now, finish getting your jewelry on and get your ass to the temple, Theia is nearly finished."

Nyx shot his father a grin, earning a pat on his shoulder before Rhys slipped from the room. Nyx let out a slow breath and did as he was told, putting on the random silver rings he liked to wear occasionally. He placed two necklaces on, one in the hollow of his throat and the other chasing the neckline of his shirt.

When he finished, Nyx ran his hand over his jacket one last time before winnowing. His stomach dropped as his body fell through the warm summer sky. With a spread of his wings, Nyx shot up. He dropped himself on the small training ring on the roof, climbing down the stairs. The sitting room of the House of Wind was empty, but he could hear small laughs, whispers, the click of heeled shoes.

Grinning to himself, Nyx ducked his head and strode to the stairwell down to the library. His shoes clicked against stone, echoing in the small chamber before it expanded into the library. He gazed at the endless bookshelves as he made his way down, occasionally catching the cloaks of the Priestesses.

After the long walk, he pulled his hands from his pockets and grasped the massive oak doors. They creaked as he pulled them open, revealing the temple. He walked the bluish hue of the fae-light lit stone aisle, between the ancient oak pews. Beyond him was an altar, laid beneath a godly mural of a faceless nude woman painted in a way that looked to be of moonlight. He'd never been here, though he knew where it was. His father banned him as a child so he wouldn't disrupt the Priestesses' worship. As Nyx climbed the small steps to the altar, he bowed his head in greeting to the silent, cloaked Priestess. Her head dipped, revealing the tip of a pale nose within the shadows.

Nyx turned his eyes away to look over the cavernous room. It wasn't silent. He could hear the Priestesses ghostly voices harmonizing in the distance, a song of worship that sounded like wind and stars. His heart pounded in time with their melody, hands clasped together at his hips.

The door creaked again, Nyx's throat feeling too dry as he turned his eyes. Oh Gods, there she was. A Goddess in her own right, so fucking beautiful it ached to look upon her. Indeed, Nyx felt his knees shake as he shifted on his feet. He couldn't look away, not as she walked to him.

Her gown was perfectly fitted, sculpting her breathtaking body in a cast of silver and white. Her red painted lips were parted, cheeks so pink and dusted with those freckles he loved. Those wild hairs that framed her face were pinned up with silver and moonstone, leaving the rest to cascade of her shoulders in waves. Mother, he'd fall to his knees right here. He'd cry and beg her to allow him to worship her in this temple like the faceless woman beyond them.

Caramel eyes looked up at him through dark lashes, the smallest of smiles on her lips as she climbed the steps. A gift. Theia was a blessing and a gift in every sense. Her delicate fingers rose, pulling his hands into hers. As her thumbs danced over his knuckles, Nyx realized how badly he was shaking. Her eyes were glossy as they scanned his face. Nyx itched to taste her lips, to feel her against him as the Priestess declared their union. This would be his first choice in a long life that would forever be right.