It proved too much, and Saba almost fainted, her empty tummy rumbling.
She realized she’d skipped eating in the last twenty-four hours, too nervous to keep anything down.
She must have swayed on her feet because a hand clapped over hers.
Mak’s.
She flinched, expecting him to clutch at her with vehemence.
Yet the hand cradling her arm was gentle, pulling her close so she wouldn’t fall, and she leaned on him in relief.
She took an inhale, not daring to look up at him but drawing from his strength.
Even though the malice kept coming at her in waves. In the crowds, she caught glimpses of her aunt and cousins’ eyes trained on them with shock and fury.
They were well aware, as she was, of the gravity of the situation, the fragile balance, the edge of a knife they were treading on.
One wrong move, one misstep, and everything would come crashing down.
Her uncle’s stern eyes fixed on her with reproach and disappointment.
He glowered at her, then flicked nervous looks to the man beside her as if terrified of the consequences of upending the delicate agreement years in the making.
He broke away from his disapproving wife and waded in for the customary embrace of his newest nephew.
Mak let go of Saba, and she gazed on as he reached a hand to grip Tewa’s hands in a crushing squeeze.
The older man’s eyes went moist as he suppressed the agony of his knuckles compressed in Mak’s muscled grasp.
Saba wanted to laugh for a second and hid her reaction by ducking her face.
Mak tugged Tewa close. He murmured words, and her kin’s eyes flew to the tallerŠar’swith panic.
She didn’t hear them, but it had the desired effect, and her now terrified uncle scurried away.
Her aunt Sylvana was not as cowed.
Finding a gap in the cordon, she approached Saba from the rear.
The bride wheeled around at the touch of her dress and glanced down to see Sylvana on her knees behind her.
‘Your train needs neatening,’ her aunt muttered as she tied it into a bow to prevent the hordes from stepping on it.
Then she rose, a fake smile on her face as she grabbed Saba’s hand for a second, hissing into her ear.
‘You will pay for today.’
She wheezed the words with such bitter venom that they lifted the hairs at the back of Saba’s neck.
Saba bit off the retort at the tip of her tongue, holding back her wrath and red-hot desire to lash at her.
Fokk off!She and her uncle’s machinations were the reason they were in this hornet’s nest.
‘For the sake of propriety, get Sarita fixing your shit up, she’s your Maid of Honor,’ Sylvana growled, still lurking behind her.
All Lisades brides needed to have a female family member accompany them throughout the wedding. To ensure that no sacred bans got broken, and maintain the newlyweds’ innocence until the nuptial night.
Shiloh’s intended maid of honor, a thin, angry redhead, Sarita, glared at her from the back of the tent, whispering with furious spite to her friends.
