Page 84 of His Eternal Claim

And as I stand here in white while he stands there in black, surrounded by armed men and broken promises, this isn’t a wedding, but a transaction of my freedom for my Mother’s life. And I hate him for making me pay the price.

The priest clears his throat. His gaze darts nervously between Zagreus, the armed men surrounding the room, and me. Then he swallows hard and opens the book.

The ceremony itself becomes a blur. Words.

Promises. Vows.

Things that once meant something. Things that now feel hollow.

I can barely hear any of it. My eyes remain fixed on a spot beyond the window. Beyond the walls. Beyond this prison dressed as a wedding.

Now and then I feel Zagreus staring at me. I refuse to look back. If I do, I might remember the man I thought he was. And I cannot afford that weakness anymore.

“Do you take this man to be your husband?”

For one insane moment, I consider saying no. I imagine the chaos that would follow.

Then I look at my Mother. Her eyes are red from crying. Fear shadows every line on her face. The answer was never really mine to give. I lost that choice a long time ago.

“I do.”

The priest releases a breath. Then he turns toward Zagreus. “And do you take this woman to be your wife?”

For the first time since the ceremony began, I glance at him.

His gaze is already on me as though nothing else in the room exists.

His eyes hold mine captive as he grabs my trembling hand and slips the ring onto my finger. A dazzling star-shaped pink diamond ring, radiating luxury and enchantment.

I swallow. His throat works around emotions he cannot afford to show. A man holding himself together through sheer force of will.

“I do.”

The muscles in his jaw flex, his hands remain at his sides, fisted so tightly that his knuckles have turned white. As though touching me now would break whatever fragile control he has left.

The priest looks relieved that neither of us has caused a scene.

“Then by the authority vested in me…” Another nervous glance at the armed guards. “…I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Husband. Wife.

A lifetime reduced to two words.

“You may kiss the bride.”

The room falls silent as I don’t move. Neither does Zagreus.

For a long moment, we simply stare at each other. Strangers wearing the faces of former lovers.

I expect him to claim what he believes is his, to grab my face, to force the performance; instead, he takes a slow step forward until he is standing close enough for me to feel the warmth of him.

Close enough to remember. Close enough to hate.

His eyes search mine, looking for something.

Whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t find it. His fists tighten further as, with visible restraint, he leans down.

His mouth brushes the corner of mine with a featherlight touch. Gone almost before it happens. A kiss that feels less like a victory and more like an apology.