Only her.
Saecily’s gaze shifted to him, her voice rising like the crest of a wave.
“And you, Viktor of Aerdania—do you come of your own free will?”
“I do.” His answer rumbled like thunder beneath his ribs.
“Then let the stars bear record of your name, too.”
Storne guided Amerei forward, laying a kiss upon her cheek. She reached out, her hands steady. They slipped into Viktor’s like sunlight breaking the horizon—warm, certain, claiming him whole.
For a breathless moment, neither moved.
Neither breathed.
Viktor’s chest burned with the need to pull her closer, but he stood still, every muscle taut. Her touch alone felt like vow enough to unmake him.
Saecily’s voice carried, gentle yet commanding.
“High-Captain Viktor Judah Seraphim. Princess Amerei Aleksandra Zrynon Storne. Look into each other’s eyes.”
They did.
The moment stretched between them like a thread drawn through time—two lives pulled toward forever. Her emerald gaze held him, a calm within the stormlight of his soul.
“Will you this day swear honor and respect for one another, and choose to see in each other all that is good?”
Together they answered, “We will.”
“Will you forsake all others, to share in each other’s joy and ease each other’s pain?”
“We will.”
“Will you let the burdens of life bind you, rather than break you—that your spirits may grow as one?”
Again, “We will.”
Saecily lifted the rings forged in secret by Gabriel. The light caught on their edges, gleaming like frost-tempered fire.
“Your companion has crafted these rings to bear witness to your vow,” she said, nodding once to Gabriel.
Amerei glanced toward him, eyes gleaming. He inclined his head, quiet warmth softening his features, and she moved her lips in silent thanks.
Then, with great care, Saecily lifted a braid of blonde and black—strands from each of them woven into a single cord.
“The colors of dawn and night,” she said. “The eternal meeting of sun and shadow.”
She laid it gently across their joined hands.
Her voice softened. “Viktor.”
He swallowed, breath catching as he met Amerei’s eyes. Stars, he wanted to close the distance—to vow himself with his mouth before the rite allowed it. But he held, trembling with the weight of restraint.
“Princess Amerei,” he said, voice rough as wind against stone, yet steady.
“My bride, and one day, my queen. I vow to serve you as your husband, your consort, and your dearest friend. All my life,I have run from shadows—war, grief, pain. But the day your father sent me racing across the desert to find you, I finally saw something worth running toward.”
His thumb brushed the top of her hand, slow, reverent.
