By the time Alaric drank from the chalice, the whole garden felt like one living thing.
I could not explain it. I did not have the words. I hated not having the words. I was a lawyer. Words were my weapons, my tools, my favorite form of control. But there, under the roses and candlelight, I could only feel it.
A family of hundreds drawing itself around one woman and saying yes.
Then Alaric kissed her.
That man cupped Aria’s face and kissed her like he had forgotten the entire world existed and, frankly, did not care to remember.
The garden erupted.
And me?
A tear slid down my cheek.
One single, traitorous tear.
I wiped it away fast, but not fast enough.
Caelin saw.
Of course he saw.
His thumb brushed the back of my hand, so careful it made my throat tighten.
I did not look at
