Myheartthundersinmy chest as though I’m about to descend into battle. But perhaps that’s normal for all soon-to-be husbands standing at the altar, awaiting their bride.
The morning passed in a blur after I left Mayah cocooned beneath the covers. I wanted nothing more than to trace her delicate features until she woke in my arms. Maybe tomorrow morning, I will. She’ll either smile brightly or glare daggers at me, and I’d be happy either way.
I cast my gaze over the assembled guests, a painful tightness constricting my lungs like a vise. I’m searching for a face that isn’t there. Will never be there again. The years have dulled the ache, but today, on my wedding day, I feel Mother’s loss keenly.
My jaw tightens as my eyes land on my father and a smirking Faramir in the front row, before glancing away.
I won’t let them ruin this.
Turning back to the petal-laden aisle, I scratch my jaw—I didn’t shave this morning. It would have been proper if I had. But I wanted Mayah to seeme. The man she’s spent everywaking moment with for six weeks. We may be in the palace now, dressed in different clothes, but I’m still the same Zev.
Her Zev.
Worry tightens my throat. Whereisshe? Surely she should be making her entrance by now. I’d assigned four additional guards before leaving her room. Did Faramir—
The officiant says something I miss, and the gathered nobility rises, jarring me from my thoughts.
My breath escapes my lungs.
She’s coming. And she’s a fucking vision.
Mayah approaches the aisle, white gown hugging her curves, gray gems glinting in the dappled sunlight. Her hair frames her face—her tresses straight instead of wavy—the wind whispering through them. Her footsteps falter, blue eyes flicking warily over the gathered guests.
Then, her eyes land on me.
I swallow hard. She looks …happy. My lungs refuse to expand properly for a full breath. Skies, Mayah will be my wife.
She finds her rhythm and walks toward me, head held high and proud. I rake my gaze over her again as she nears, lips curving into a smile when I catch her doing the same to me.
The officiant clears his throat and starts his speech.
I don’t hear a word.
I’m utterly entranced by the goddess before me.
Bright blue eyes glimmering in the sunlight.
Full lips, turned up slightly at the corners.
Soft hands, clasped tightly within my own.
“…a demonstration of powers.”
Shit.
I’d forgotten this part of the ceremony.
Mayah purses her lips, and I shoot her an apologetic glance before quickly cutting a gash into my palm. She heals it within seconds.
The nobility claps weakly.
“Now, Prince Zevayr will show us the might of Arbinj!”
Mayah’s eyes grow round, her breaths shallow with fear. I hate that I’m doing this to her—let alone in front of the entire Arbinji nobility.
I summon my power. The sky darkens overhead, and her face tilts toward the clouds shadowing the garden.
“Hey,” I murmur. “Eyes on me.”
