"The vows," said the Prelate, with the unsteady relief of a man who has been rescued from a fire. "The groom will speak."
Alaric took the smaller of the two silver rings from the cushion. His hands, she saw, were steady now, steadier than she had ever seen them.
"Salviana," he began, and stopped, and laughed shakily, as though the sound of his own voice saying her name astonished him. "I did not know how to write this. I wrote it nine times, and burned it nine times, and Lucius laughed at me for all of them."
"I did," said Lucius from the side, unrepentant.
"So I will simply say what is true." He lifted her hand. "When I married you, I took something that was not mine to take. I took your choice, and I called it duty. I told myself I was protecting you, that I could keep you at a distance and call that kindness. I was wrong. I was a coward, and you were braver than every court that ever feared me."
His thumb stroked once over her knuckles.
