They married on a clear spring morning, nearly five months after Isla's garden balcony answer, in a modest ceremony held in the same council chamber courtyard where Mercer had once watched a blade fall toward his neck in a life that no longer technically existed anywhere but his own memory.
The irony wasn't lost on him, standing now in that same space surrounded by people who loved him rather than people who'd voted for his death.
Keston stood beside him as Mercer waited for Isla to arrive, fussing slightly with Mercer's collar the way he'd done years ago before council hearings that mattered considerably less than this particular morning.
"Nervous," Keston observed.
"Terrified, actually. Though happily so."
"That's how it should feel, I think." Keston's eyes carried genuine warmth, d
