[Leif's POV — Wedding Garden—At the Altar]
My fingers were still wrapped in Alvar's—warm, steady, and grounding—when the priest stepped forward, robes shimmering in the sunlight like woven dawn.
"Today," he announced, voice echoing through the garden, "we witness a union blessed by sky and soil, by winter winds and summer suns. A bond formed not by blood, not by politics—"
His gaze flickered to us.
"—but by choice."
A soft murmur rippled through the guests.
My heart thudded.
Alvar's thumb brushed the back of my hand. A tiny gesture. A silent comfort.
The priest lifted a crystal orb; it glowed faintly, reacting to the magic in the air… or maybe reacting to the chaos in my bloodstream.
"Grand Duke Alvar Regulfsson. Leif Thorenvald. Step forward."
We moved in unison. His cloak trailing like night itself. My veil catching the sunlight like morning frost.
The priest turned to Alvar first. "Grand Duke—please speak your vows."
***
[Alvar's POV—The Vows]
