The man walked forward. Each of his steps were measured. Not from hesitation or fear but from respect.
And I could see he wasn't looking at Dorian like he was some demon. He was looking at him as someone of his own. His eyes went to Dorian's body which was now turning to half dark ashes and half evaporating into the air.
He reached Mariam's side and stood there as Dorian started to stare at him. Stare at his broad shoulders and rough hands. The hands of a man who worked with them every single day.
Mariam gestured to him while still holding Dorian in her lap. "Father, this is Ryan. We married a year ago."
Dorian's eyes stayed on the man.
"He is a blacksmith and runs a small forge at the edge of the village. He isn't nobility. He doesn't have a title or a crest or land or anything the world says should matter."
Then Mariam smiled and looked at Ryan with something that told everything without saying a word.
