Still, there was no way Saba would let her have her six.
She scanned the room till her eyes fell on her best friend, Aveline.
Her closest confidante stood at the pavilion’s edge, her gaze fixed on her with concern and love.
Willowy, fine-boned, and strikingly beautiful, she was all grace when Saba was Miss Clumsy, tripping over her feet.
She was quiet, while Saba was loud and defiant when needed.
Still, she had a core of steel running through her, a fact she’d demonstrated in many instances from their first meeting in high school.
She’d kicked a bully in the balls for Saba, and since then, they’d always remained bosom to each other.
She was a soul sister. One familiar with Saba’s moods, with an uncanny ability to read her thoughts, and who matched her off-the-wall humor in seconds, as Saba did for her.
She was married to a taciturn, cold Akkadian religious nut who treated her like shit, but that was another story.
‘Should I need a chaperone, I’ll ask Aveline,’ Saba murmured to Sylvana.
Her aunt cursed and flounced off in a fury.
Despite the celebration, there was tension in his posture, a vigilance honed over years of careful alertness.
Though he cast his face away from her, Saba sensed the inner turmoil beneath his stoic mask.
A sense of sympathy stirred in her. He seemed to endure the pageantry, his true self hidden and concealed by layers of formality and obligation.
Her heart surged. Instinctively, she reached for his hand, squeezing it in an attempt to offer comfort.
His muscles tensed under her touch, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned to her, his eyes meeting hers with such emotion that it took her breath away.
For a moment, vulnerability flickered in his stare, mirroring the turmoil inside her. Then, the look shifted to rage, reminding her of the distance between them, of which her sins were the origin.
His gaze broke away, but his grip remained steady. His firm hand around Saba’s offered an unexpected reassurance amid the suffocating expectations.
Mak had the power to cause a scene, to reject her outright, or even harm her.
The stories of his ruthlessness and how he eviscerated thesachemburned in her mind.
She imagined him turning on her in an instant, ending it all with a bullet in the heart or his fangs to her neck.
Yet, he did nothing of the sort, and for that she was grateful.
For now.He still had the option to pull the proverbial trigger when the celebrations were over.
‘Ready?’
Saba glanced up at his hoarse rasp, meeting his amethyst and golden gaze. She nodded, taking his arm and falling into step with him.
Their wedding party rose, clapping and cheering as they walked down the reception aisle.
As they approached the sumptuous bridal table, Mak pulled out her chair.
She sat, as the crowd stared, and the inevitability of it all sank in.
She was trapped.
With the impending reckoning yet to come, even the finest dishes were ash, and the best wine like brine.
