The priest, taken aback, grumbled out, “Sir, there are procedures in the wedding rites.”
“I do not care about procedures. What I care about is taking what is mine.”
His fingers dug into my arm, and I let out a yelp as I struggled to remain upright, twisting my arm to try and get out of his wrists.
The knife sliced against my breast, twisting with me as I wrenched myself out of William’s grasp. His finger wrapped around my wrist, securing themselves into place. The little few words that came from the priest’s lips were ones I dreaded six months ago and even more so now.
“In the eyes of God, I pronounce you husband and—”
The wind grew stronger. Rose petals danced gracefully in a tornado of crimson, obscuring my vision of the garden, William, and the priest.
I was enveloped in a storm of red.
Gentle hands swept over William’s death grip, and long pale fingers wrapped around my wrist and my waist. In a flash, warm arms yanked me back from the altar, and cloves and spice sweetly tickled my nose. A deluge of petals dissipated to the sound of my heart beating a beautiful melody.
The priest cowered behind a rose bush, the old man shaking beneath his ropes. William was beet red and attempted to pull the man up by the collar as he pointed a shaky finger toward us.
“You!” he growled out.
Down upon the hand was a signet ring on his left, the familiar silver tungsten band.
I softened against him. “You came.”
Silas stroked the bruises on my wrist, a playful smile pressed against the back of my hand as he offered a kiss, responding, “You called.”
Tears welled, and I trembled against his embrace, enraptured by piercing gold dancing between regret and elation, the slender shape of his lips quirked in a serene smile, the crinkle of his brow and just him.
It was him.
“Silas, this is a trap. You need to run—now!”
William charged toward us, brandishing a knife. “I won’tlet you.”
“Care to dance.” Silas swept me into his arm, spinning us to narrowly avoid the blade. William stumbled before charging forward again.
Silas’s grip tightened, dancing around William’s crazed slashing.
“I. Will. Not. Let. You. Have. Her.” He grunted between missed slashes.
Silas continued to gliding gracefully.
William called to his henchmen, “Don’t just stand there. Get him!”
The men joined in the dance. Silas’s movements quickened, avoiding the men’s careless attempts at grabbing me while William tried to get close.
I clung on to the collar of his button-down shirt before reaching down the front of my dress to the cool metal. “Silas,” I said softly as William’s cries of frustration echoed into the night. “I want you to let me down.”
Silas’s leg slammed down on one of the men’s skulls and then kicked the poor man into the other onto the hard pavement.
They groaned softly, both alive enough to be rendered unconscious and out of the fight, enraging William further.
He charged again at Silas.
“Little Dove, I do not think that is a good idea.”
I held the knife. The heavy weight of it in my palm gave me enough courage to see this through.
Silas’s eyes widened, mouth twisted into a small grin. “Never ceases to amaze me, Little Dove.”
