The morning after Lyra said yes, the cove was awash with celebration. News of their engagement had spread like sea foam on wind—whispered between waves, carried from driftwood to doorstep.
But Kael had one final duty before he could truly begin forever.
He had to return to the palace.
"Are you sure?" Lyra asked as she sat beside him on the tide-warmed rocks. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his knee, but her voice was heavy with worry.
Kael nodded. "I have to tell them in person. My father... he may be angry, but I need to stand in front of him and make it clear this is my choice. You are my choice."
"I don't care about kings or titles."
"I know. But I do. Not for power—just to close the door properly."
Lyra looked away, lips pressed tight.
Kael caught her chin, turning her back to him. "I'll return in three days. We'll get married on the full moon, like you said. I promise."
She searched his face and found no fear, only fierce love. "Then go, prince. But don't be late."
He grinned and kissed her deeply, the kind of kiss that anchors and unravels at once.
The journey to the palace was swift, thanks to Vaelen. The merman led him through quiet sea channels and hidden currents that Kael never knew existed. They parted at the shore with a simple nod.
"Come back whole," Vaelen said. Kael didn't ask what he meant.
He rode inland on a borrowed horse, cresting hills and forests until the familiar white towers of the palace shimmered on the horizon.
He hadn't seen it in months.
The guards were stunned. The courtiers gaped. Servants whispered behind silver trays. But the prince had returned, and no one dared question him as he walked straight into the royal hall.
King Tharell sat on his throne, age etched deep into his once-sharp features. His eyes narrowed as Kael approached.
"Where have you been?" the king demanded.
Kael bowed shallowly. "Living. Learning. Loving."
The court murmured.
"You deserted your duty."
"I reclaimed it in a different way."
"You will marry Lady Alira of Haleth. The banns are already written."
Kael smiled softly. "No, Father. I'm marrying someone else. Her name is Lyra."
"Who is she?"
"The sea. The storm. The soul I never knew I was missing."
"Is she noble?"
"She's everything I need."
The silence stretched long, but Kael didn't flinch.
At last, King Tharell sighed and waved a hand. "Do what you will. I'm tired of fighting ghosts."
Kael returned to the cove on the third morning, right as he promised.
The village erupted with joy.
Preparations began instantly: ribbons woven from kelp, flower crowns made of coral and drift roses, songs practiced on shell-flutes. Miri, oddly serious, took over decorating duties. Vaelen carved driftwood pillars for the ceremony. Elli shaped rings from sea-stone, humming old wedding blessings under her breath.
Lyra stood at the edge of the beach, watching the bustle, heart thundering in her chest.
Kael stepped up behind her, arms circling her waist. "You okay?"
She nodded. "I've never seen so much joy."
"You deserve every drop of it."
She turned to him, eyes glowing. "Tomorrow. We become more than legend."
"No," Kael whispered. "We become truth."
The day of the wedding was a blur of sun and salt and laughter.
Villagers lined the cove, dressed in their brightest silks and shells. The sky was cloudless. Even the sea was still, as if holding its breath.
Lyra wore a dress spun from tidefoam silk, with strands of pearls laced through her long, dark hair. Her eyes held the ocean's depth, and when she walked barefoot down the coral path, every soul in the cove fell silent.
Kael stood beneath a driftwood arch draped in starflowers and seaweed. He wore a simple tunic, his royal seal etched into a pendant at his throat.
Their vows were not spoken in grand halls but whispered beside the waves.
"I give you my heart," Kael said, voice low but steady. "And all the storms it carries."
"I give you my soul," Lyra answered. "And all the tides that shape it."
They sealed it with a kiss as the sea sang its approval. Elli wept quietly. Miri cheered too loudly. Vaelen clapped once and smiled.
And just like that, they were wed.
That night, the village danced under lanterns strung between palm trees. Music echoed off the cliffs. Children tossed flower petals. Elders toasted the newlyweds with honeyed wine and bittersweet stories.
Kael and Lyra slipped away just after midnight.
They returned to their cove, to the hammock, to their home beneath the stars.
And there, surrounded by soft waves and moonlight, they made love again—not wild, not desperate—but reverent, tender. A claiming and a surrender.
"I'm yours," Lyra whispered.
"And I'm yours," Kael breathed against her skin.
The sea sighed around them.