‘My lord, I, Shakhete, have betrothed you, Makennon Mak Essen, to be my husband. I give you this ring as a sign of my commitment. I shall share all I have with you from this day and this hour onward.’
A male presence, one she imagined to be one of theŠar’sgroomsmen, appeared beside her, nudging her upper arm before shoving a small velvet pillow through the slit of her mantle.
She scrambled in the dim light, grabbing the platinum gold band from the bearer.
With a jagged inhale, she slid it onto the ring finger of the firm, lean, veined hand that extended under her veil.
The sinewed hand withdrew, leaving her breathless.
The Luminary rumbled, ‘Behold! He is mighty! Behold, he is strong! May his bride be evermore enamored.’
The congregation responded in a single chorus. ‘Behold! He is mighty! Behold, he is strong!’
The priest added, ‘This woman is given to this man to receive each other’s help and support. They are betrothed for life and have shared this sign of a ring as a symbol of their union’s fulfillment. May they be united by the bond of love, and may their union render glory and honor, now and forever.’
With the pronouncement complete, Saba’s groom turned toward her. The room held its collective breath as one of his strong, steady hands reached to unfurl the veil’s fabric.
As he did, Saba’s mind raced with one thought.
What would he do when he uncovered the truth?
A hushed reverence fell over the room like mist settling in a forest.
Saba was beyond panic now.
Her heart had turned to stone, and her breath caught in her throat, waiting for the tempest to break over her.
As the veil was swept away, a soft lake breeze brushed against her skin, the delicate lace fluttering on her cheeks.
She glanced up and locked eyes withhimfor the first time.
Maklan ‘Mak’ Essen Sauvage.
His name,Maklan, meant ‘mighty king’, for he was the Don andŠarof the Sauvage’s sprawling dynasty.
His tall figure loomed over her, and her insides lurched as she realized that he embodied every aspect of it, fulfilling the belief that one grew into their name.
Her gaze roamed over his thick, wavy, dark hair, which swept over his potent forehead.
Underneath his high, broad brow, his features were carved, and his strong jawline, nose, and lips were pressed tightly together.
A pair of diamond earrings adorned his sculpted earlobes.
His lips were full but tight, his chin chiseled, and his upper body was defined, straining against the fabric of his traditional pearl-white wedding suit, showing off his strength.
Over his shoulders rested a gold and sable woven cloak, thesafin, worn by men of distinction during ritualized events within the Akkadian community.
Beneath his half-open tunic, his chest was a broad expanse of toned muscles and dusky skin, inked with purple, gold, and black ink in the shape of a stylized third eye.
It reminded the wearer to maintain a compassionate, inward gaze that was vigilant and aligned with the principles of their tight-knit community’s beliefs.
Biting her lip, Saba couldn’t tear her eyes from his torso, hoping fervently that theŠarfollowed this one value in particular, for she was at his mercy.
She soon found herself flicking her gaze lower, powerless to resist.
His arms were thick and sinewed, his hands calloused and strong, also inked with shades of amaranthine, from plum to lilac, intertwined with gold.
His legs, bulky and muscular, were encased in silken trousers.
