55: The Wedding: I
The priest cleared his throat at the lovebirds who seemed reluctant to turn away from each other. "Let's begin," he said, his voice steady yet tinged with warmth. Alexandra turned to face him, the soft fabric of her wedding dress rustling as she moved. "Let's begin with the vows," the white-haired priest spoke, opening a large black book that likely contained sacred words of love and devotion.
"Do you, Silverstein Ashton Ivan Caestria, take Alexandra Carmarthen to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part, according to God's holy ordinance?"
"I do." Silverstein's voice was low, his gaze unwavering as he looked down at Alexandra, the depth of his love reflected in his eyes.