Mists of Velvet

like a lifeline.
    “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
    “I think I might have. It was Keir.”
    “Grief has hit him hard. He’s hurting, and knowing you have your mate is making him feel the loss of his more acutely.”
    “He won’t let me help.”
    She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “It’s too soon. Everything is too fresh. But he’s there, even in shadow. He hasn’t left you.”
    Bronwnn dragged him into their room, kissing him, loving him, and he tried to put aside his fear, but he knew Bronwnn was wrong. Keir had left. But where he had gone to, Rhys didn’t know. And he was afraid to find out.

    Kneeling before the Supreme Goddess, head bowed, Bronwnn accepted Cailleach’s gift—the Shrouding.
    “It was wrong for me to have parted Covetina and Camael,” Cailleach said as she hooked her fingers beneath Bronwnn’s chin and tilted her head up to meet her gaze. “But I won’t apologize for stealing you. If I hadn’t, you would have been in Uriel’s hands, and the light I see in your eyes would not be there. Fate has a way of making things right.”
    “ ’Tis true,” Bronwnn replied. “I would have been his servant, his apprentice. He would have used me to destroy Annwyn and all that I love.”
    “I never intended to hurt, but I had to keep you separate from the others, because I was never certain where he was, and I didn’t want him to know of you, let alone find you.”
    “That is all in the past,” she whispered. “I wish to forge a future. With Rhys.”
    “Then you will have it. Go now and make your future.”
    Rising from her knees, Bronwnn’s red gown glowed in the candlelight. “Thank you for this gift.”

    Rhys rose from the tub and pulled a towel from the rack. Quickly he dried himself, then wrapped the towel around his hips. He was headed for the room he shared with Bronwnn, when he stopped, caught a glimpse of something at the window, and headed for it instead.
    Outside, something glimmered, and his gaze tracked it as it shimmered in gold and silver hues. Instinctively, he knew what it was, and he watched as the glimmer rose up again. Hurrying into his room, he shrugged into a pair of jeans. He had no idea what a man wore to a Shrouding, but he knew whatever it was wouldn’t be on him long.
    Dressed, hair brushed back, he ran down the staircase that led to the door that would take him outside.
    “MacDonald.”
    Rhys stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Bran was leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. A strip of white cloth dangled from his fingers.
    “Cailleach has granted your goddess the rite of a Shrouding.”
    “I know. I’m just going.” Rhys couldn’t hide his smile.
    “When a Sidhe warrior takes a mate, there is a ritual that must be completed.” Bran handed him the strip of cloth. “Your hand must be bound to hers.”
    “A Sidhe?” he asked, swallowing hard.
    “Yes. A Sidhe. Even dilute ones.”
    Rhys smiled at Bran’s grin. “Any special words that need to be said?”
    Bran shook his head. “Only the ones in your heart.”
    With a nod, Rhys opened the door, the white cloth fisted tightly in his hand as he searched for his goddess.
    She was easy to find. In the garden, beneath a gathering of oak trees, was a circle of white-robed women. At the head of them was Cailleach. When she saw him, she raised her hands, and the glimmering cloud that hovered around them lowered, fell, and disappeared.
    “Rhys MacDonald, descendant of Daegan, you are to be given this night to the goddess Bronwnn.”
    He was nervous. Bronwnn wanted this ceremony so much. He didn’t want to mess it up. He wanted it to be beautiful for her. In the same way every bride wanted the gown and the flowers and the devoted, handsome groom, every goddess, he supposed, wanted this.
    “Thank you,” he murmured, not knowing what else to say.
    Cailleach’s eyes flashed, this time not with anger, but amusement. “Is it your intention to take this goddess as your mate?”
    “It is.” He said it with deep conviction.
    “Then your union is to be consecrated this night. Here, beneath the ancient oak of the Sidhe and the golden veil, which represents the power of the goddess.”
    Then Cailleach and the others departed, moving outward from the circle and revealing a woman covered in a glistening silver shroud that hugged the outline of her body. She was on a low bed of sorts, which was draped in silver and white satin and littered with pillows.
    Rhys took a