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When Adrik bows, I bow. When he says something, I mumble something similar under my breath.
It’s not at all how I imagined my wedding would be. But then again, none of this is how I imagined, so in that way, it feels like par for the course.
The priest stops a few times to cough into his elbow, but otherwise, the ceremony goes off without a hitch as far as I can tell.
When we exchange rings, Adrik places a large diamond on my finger and then drags his fingertips across my skin so slowly that I feel like I’m going to combust on stage.
I slide his ring onto his finger as quickly as I can and look away so he can’t see how much I’m blushing.
Then the priest turns away again. He coughs a few more times, but rather than ease up, the fit intensifies. He doubles over, wheezing.
I’m about to check on him and see if he is okay when he turns back around with two wreaths in his hands.
“It’s almost over,” Adrik whispers in my ear as the priest settles the wreath on top of my head.
A second wreath is placed on Adrik’s hand and we are each handed goblets of red wine.
“They thought I’d need to be drunk to do this?” I whisper.
Adrik gives me a warning look, but I don’t miss the spark of amusement there. “You only take three drinks.”
Again, I follow Adrik’s lead, drinking when he drinks. One, two, three. The wine tastes rich and sweet on my tongue.
The priest takes the goblets away and then we are led around in a circle while the priest prays some kind of blessing over us.
“One,” Adrik says softly as we make one complete circle.
The priest coughs, but doesn’t slow, leading us around a second time.
“Two,” Adrik says again as we make our second complete circuit.
The priest is coughing rather violently now. I can tell Adrik is annoyed, casting nasty looks his way.
But we’re almost done. Almost married.
Holy shit.
The last circle seems to take a small eternity now that the realization has hit. A few more steps and… that’s it. I’ll be Mrs. Adrik Tasarov.
For better or for worse, as long as we both shall live.
A shiver works down my spine, and Adrik looks over at me. I do my best to hold my head high. To play my part.
“Three,” Adrik says as the priest leads us around the third time and moves to stand in front of us.
The priest’s face is darker than I remember, more of a purple-y color. He smiles, but it looks strained. He says something in Russian that even I understand means, “You may now kiss the bride.”
Adrik turns to me. He wraps one arm around my waist, cups one hand around my jaw, and presses his lips to mine.
This next part doesn't require much acting.
Heat explodes in my chest. Instinctively, I grab hold of his face and kiss him back, drawing closer, sliding my tongue over his full lips.
Distantly, I hear people clapping and the priest coughing yet again, but it’s all background noise, drowned out by the thrumming of my heart. By the need to keep kissing Adrik.
Because when we do this, everything is okay. Everything is fine. Everything makes sense.
Then the crowd gasps.
Adrik’s arm tightens around my waist. He breaks the kiss, but pulls me close against him, his entire body taut and tense.
I’m not sure what’s going on—until I look at the priest.
He’s coughing, but this time, there doesn’t seem to be an end to the attack. Over and over again, he coughs, until I can see specks of blood staining the sleeve of his impeccable white robes.
“Oh my God!” I reach to help the man, but Adrik pulls me back. “He needs help. What is—”
Adrik shakes his head and then starts barking commands in Russian.
I see Stefan rush on stage and grab Isabella. Travis trots along after them at a brisk gait, navigating the chaos of our wedding guests as they also try to figure out what is going on.
Adrik’s men surround the stage, closing in on us until I can’t see anyone else.
“What is going on?” I ask. Fear is taking hold of me with icy fingers.
Before the ceremony, I was afraid to be married to Adrik. Now, I’m clinging to him as if my life depends on it.
On the other side of the altar, the priest hits the floor and falls face first into the carpet. The coughing has stopped, but blood stains his lips and trickles from the corner of his mouth.
“Adrik, what is—”
“Poison,” he says, pressing me close to his side and whisking us down off the stage. His men maintain their protective circle around us as we move.
I blink up at him. “What? What does that mean? Someone… someone killed the priest?”
He grunts a yes.
“But… why?”
“How do you feel?” he asks me.
“I feel… confused,” I blurt. “Scared. I don’t know, I’m—”
“Hot? Cold?” he asks. “Is your throat tight? Does your stomach hurt?”
“Wait, are you saying…” I gasp. “Was I poisoned?”
Adrik’s arm tightens around me again until he’s almost crushing me against him. But I don’t mind. He’s the only thing keeping me standing.
“I don’t know yet. But we’re going to find out.”
