The arena, the chanting, and the torches all blur around the edges.
His voice cuts through the noise, low and rough in a way that should be illegal. "Good to see you, Minx." His lips curl.
A shiver snakes down my spine. My anxiety dies a little.
His eyes sweep over me again, slower this time, taking in the dress, the veil, the fire curling along my hem.
My chest tightens with a rush that has nothing to do with nerves.
Brax offers his hand. The simple gesture shouldn't have the power to steady me, yet something beneath his composed expression anchors the scattered pieces rattling inside my rib cage.
A man in a skull mask steps forward from the shadows of the platform. His crimson robe sweeps along the ground, the gold embroidery catching in the firelight until he looks carved from the same flames swirling along my dress.
A woman wearing the same white dress as the women in the crowd, matching eye mask, and blonde hair moves beside him. Her expression shifts from regal calm to something suspiciously tender when her eyes meet mine. Her subtle nod encourages me forward.
"Stand before us." Kirill's Russian accent slices through the arena with an authority that reverberates from the lowest rows to the highest balcony.
Relief hits me.
Thank God the Omni let him lead the ritual.
It also gives me comfort knowing it's Fiona next to him behind the mask.
Brax's fingers tighten around mine as he guides us past the white lotuses and into the ritual circle. The torches surrounding it flare brighter, and the crowd's hum intensifies, becoming a living current pressing at our backs.
We stop at the center.
Kirill faces us, his posture straight, while Fiona takes her place slightly behind him, hands folded with a serene confidence.
Kirill begins, "Tonight, two alliances bind into one. Two bloodlines merge under oath. Let the vows be spoken so the Underworld may witness."
A knight steps forward. He bends and lights the edge of the lotuses. A ring of fire bursts around them.
Kirill holds up his hand for silence. Once it's quiet, he gestures to me. "Do you enter this marriage freely?"
"Y-yes," I say, then clear my throat.
Brax squeezes my hands.
I glance at him.
He gives me an arrogant look.
I try not to laugh, and more anxiety flies out of me.
His attention doesn't drift. Not once. He watches me like the arena doesn't exist, and it's only us and the vows we're about to state.
I inhale slowly, lifting my chin.
Kirill inquires, "What brings this marriage to the Underworld?"
Silence fills the arena.
I whisper, "You have to answer."
Brax grunts and looks at Kirill. "Love." He pins his gaze back on me.
The king orders, "If love brought you here, then speak your vows for all to hear."
