Each bite was a battle, every sip a struggle.
Saba picked at her plate, her unease growing, but she forced strained smiles at the guests seated for the lavish banquet.
Mak, by her side on the dais, wore a dark, brooding expression for all to see.
His silence was heavy, his cold stare a warning to anyone who dared approach.
Despite the opulence around them, Saba felt nauseous, dreading the inevitable confrontation with Mak that would determine her fate.
No one came near them, perhaps fearing the storm brewing in her husband’s eyes.
He didn’t speak to her but leaned away to confer with Santi, one of his tall, handsome Signethermanos.
Alone, her gaze took note of how the Lisades and Sauvage families eyed each other with wariness, every so often staring at the couple on the dais.
What was meant to unite the houses only served to highlight the divide.
Her uncle’s ire was evident.
She could tell he was enraged and worried that all his hard work was in jeopardy. He glowered at her from their family table.
Overwhelmed, Saba almost snarled at him and her aunt, the architects of her demise.
The only light in thisfokkin’ tunnel, the only hope she clung to, was that a bond forged in the fires of fate might end in some form of beauty from ashes.
Hell, she was dreaming.
In truth, her destiny was sealed, her chance at happiness fleeting.
A burst of activity from one corner of the room drew her attention.
Her eyes followed a pair of her groom’s bodyguards as they approached a group of young women and admonished them for breaking Mak’s no-holo-recording rule.
It was a tacit reminder that her groom was a private and reclusive man.
He’d always sent emissaries to do his bidding in Shiloh’s bride price negotiations.
Rumors and whispers abounded about his secluded nature and obsession with privacy and secrecy, as well as his coldness and ruthlessness.
Now, they were bound together in matrimony, for better or worse.
Relief hit hard when Saba’s eyes met Aveline’s across the crowded space.
With a subtle wave, she beckoned her friend over.
Aveline was at her side in moments, her smile forced but her eyes sincere, as she squeezed past the throng to join her.
Saba leaned close to her, murmuring, ‘Save me, woman. I need a break.’
She turned to Mak. ‘I’m going to the bathroom with my maid of honor.’
A skeptical raise of his brow was followed by a glower of disdain, then a terse nod.
‘Go.’
In truth, she craved a reprieve, a chance to confide in her closest confidant, other than Shiloh.
‘Act like my bridesmaid, please,’ she muttered to Aveline.
