Derya stared down at the man who stood on bended knee before her, and despite what this union would mean for her future, warmth settled around her heart as if this was not a marriage of convenience arranged by fate.
The ring was just a physical reminder that she would never see her home again, but the invisible mark on her hand that only supernaturals could see was already as forceful a claim.
“Princess Derya, will you take my hand in marriage?” he asked, and their eyes met.
“Yes, Prince Andor, I will take your hand in marriage.” How can such simple words shape their future and reshape everything about them?
Not as dramatically as the rune, though, but close enough.
He got to his feet, and they were only inches apart as their lips met in a chaste kiss that sparked fire through her veins, warmed her heart, and caused a strange sense of elation to take hold of her even as her heart contracted.