Derya stared into Andor’s eyes, and despite the quiet crowd, the sun shining down on them from a bright blue sky, Argana acting as the priest to seal their vows, and Bailey standing two feet from her on the second step, only the two of them seemed to exist.
“Doeth any soul object to the binding of these two souls?” Argana asked, and a cold dread briefly intruded into this perfect moment.
Derya stared, mesmerized, at the dashingly handsome man in his dark blue uniform with all the golden adornments and tassels of his station and that white embroidered sash over his shoulder. Any other man might have looked ridiculous, but he looked regal.
Why did it not even matter to her that he was human?
The silence stretched, and she half expected it to be interrupted by some protest, but nothing happened, yet her tension did not abate. Almost as if she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Then I take thee silence as consent, and all thy qualms shall be muted forever.”