“Who presents this bride?” Bemmar's voice echoes.
Anees straightens. “Lord Anees of House Draxion, my king.”
“Join hands before your kingdom,” Bemmar commands.
The crowd shifts forward slightly, their collective disapproval a palpable force. Yet they remain silent, still bound by a certain loyalty to their traditions and their king. When Dayn's fingers close around mine, my heart stutters in my chest.
His palm burns against mine. Through that touch, I feel a storm raging beneath his composed exterior, matching the hurricane in my chest.
“We’re in this together,” he murmurs. “We’ll get out of it together.”
I glare at him through my lashes. “Forgive me if I don't find comfort in your promises when I'm standing here in a literal wedding gown.”
“And we will find a way forward,” he says.
Bemmar gives me a bored look. “Are you done lamenting, Miss Salem?”
“Soon to be Mrs. Draxion,” Byzu jabs with a smirk. I can feel his eyes on me like a physical weight against my skin. His gaze slides over the silk and diamonds of my gown with a possessive heat that makes my stomach clench uncomfortably.“In Draethys, even the greatest treasures can be… claimed by another. Remember that.”I lock my jaw at the memory of his words and ignore him utterly.
Yeah, because what I really need is another Draxion male in my life.
All of Dayn's brothers flank him, while I stand with only Nyssa, whose smile seems genuine enough to make me nauseous. My fingers twitch, longing for the blade I should have hidden beneath these suffocating layers of silk.
“Today marks unprecedented history in Draethys,” Bemmar announces to the assembly. “A dragon and a darkblood, bound together. Though many disapprove, the prince has spoken. Lord Daynthazar and Esme Salem shall unite through fire and blood until death.”
Fantastic.
“Before all gods, ancient and new, they join their destinies,” the king continues.
“Join is generous terminology,” I mutter.
“Trust me, I'm equally thrilled,” Dayn replies, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Bemmar's glare could melt stone as he presses on. “Marriage binds you to rise and fall as one.”
“Hard pass,” I breathe, hoping the king can't hear. “I lack wings and have zero intention of following you into the abyss.”
“Considering Draethys's location,” Dayn whispers, “I'd say you've already arrived.”
“Screw you.”
“Let’s save that for the wedding night. A couple more hours. Though I appreciate the enthusiasm.”
“Marriage!” Bemmar almost shouts, not bothering to hold backhis frustration with us. “It is a sacred union of bodies and souls, where two become one across time itself. Together you shall forge an empire that only death may sever.”
“Or a tragic accident,” I whisper through clenched teeth.
Dayn's jaw tightens. “Don't tempt me.”
“Face each other,” Bemmar commands, leaning forward with a dangerous glint in his reptilian eyes. “Before I solve this problem permanently.”
We pivot toward one another like reluctant dancers. Hundreds of dragon gazes burn into my back, a sea of disapproval. My chest tightens. My palms dampen. The rational part of me screams this is all wrong, while my treacherous heart hammers against my ribs like it's trying to escape. Heat flushes my cheeks. Oxygen deprivation, I decide. Too long underground.
When Dayn's fingers tighten around mine, electricity shoots up my arms. My breath catches. Something primal stirs beneath my skin—a ravenous hunger that makes my mouth go dry.
“Your vows,” Bemmar prompts. “You do remember them?”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Dayn answers smoothly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Ladies first.”
