He entered so suddenly that the rows of people all jumped to their feet at once, the wooden benches creaking and feet scrambling against the floor. He clasped his hand around his other arm and faced the aisle. He hoped she walked quickly.
His parents entered behind him and took their seats on the front bench, next to Jovita. All three of them had expressions on their faces like they were happy about something. Cas tried not to look at them.
The guests shuffled back into their seats, and Cas surveyed the room. Each guest held a cup of wine, which wasn’t customary, but his father must have thought the ceremony could use some livening up. He wasn’t wrong.
The guests were smiling and whispering, and it smelled like the end of a party, not the beginning. Like alcohol and disappointment and a reminder that tomorrow held a hangover and the usual drudgery.
How appropriate, Cas thought.
The door at the back of the room opened, and everyone stood and turned to face Mary. Her gown was a deep, vibrant blue that caught the light as she walked, and her dark hair was piled on top of her head with an intricate series of pearls woven around the strands. The sleeves of the dress just barely covered her shoulders, and her olive skin looked soft and almost luminous.
Traditionally the mother and father walked on either side of the bride, but she was alone. He knew his parents must have offered to walk with her, and she must have declined. He could understand why.
He attempted a cheerful expression, but she seemed so miserable he found it hard to meet her eyes. He focused on a spot beyond her head as she made her quick descent down the aisle.
She stopped in front of him and did not smile. Her lips moved in a way that was meant to convey happiness, but her expression was something closer to terror. They turned to the priest.
“Let us give thanks to the ancestors who built our world,” the priest said.
Cas bowed his head, fiddling with a string on the bottom of his jacket.
“We pray to Boda, with thanks for the body she created for us,” the priest continued. “To Lelana for the fruitful land she bestowed on Lera. To Solia, for the soul that makes us human. And we pray for relief from the monstrous Ruined, who corrupted your gifts.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Cas saw Mary’s head lift slightly, and he glanced over at her. She was fidgeting, twisting her fingers around, and she quickly stopped when she caught Cas’s eye.
The ceremony dragged on. Cas didn’t know why the priest felt the need to drone on about love and marriage and sacrifice when he knew very well this was a treaty marriage. It was almost rude.
“And to seal this union,” the priest finally said, signaling they were nearing the end, “we unite our souls with the elements.”
Cas put out his hands, palms down, and Em did the same. The priest sprinkled a light dusting of dirt on their hands, followed by a splash of water.
“And we unite our souls with a kiss, to be bound until death. May this union be blessed by the ancestors.”
Cas turned to Mary. Her hands were shaking so violently it made her shoulders twitch. She took in a ragged breath, swallowing hard. He’d never made anyone tremble in fear before, and this was possibly the worst moment ever to experience it for the first time.
He leaned forward, and their eyes met briefly as she tilted her head up to his. He barely brushed his lips across hers, and the spectators burst into applause.
Cas slid his gaze to where Mary was seated at his right. She’d eaten her food, and she kept turning her wineglass around in her hands but never took a sip.
The room bustled with noise around them. Tables made a half circle around the edge of the Majestic Hall, and a dance floor stretched out in front of them, with the musicians at the other end. The wedding guests were a flurry of color around them—red and orange and green gowns spinning to the music, the men in mostly white or tan, with bursts of color in the forms of flowers on their lapels. No one wore blue, as that was reserved for Em’s dress and the blue flower on Cas’s gray jacket.
A man approached the head table to offer his congratulations, and Mary plastered a polite expression on her face. He was beginning to know it well—pursed lips, head tilted to the side like she was captivated by the conversation (she wasn’t), and a sigh of relief as the person walked away.
Galo stood with the other guards against the wall to Cas’s right. Cas pushed out of his chair and stood.
“I’ll be back,” he said in the general direction of his parents, then quickly walked away before they could protest. He said a brief hello to the governor of the southern province, so he could at least say he was greeting guests if his parents asked.
Galo stepped away from the wall as soon as Cas approached. They walked a few steps from the rest of the guards, out of earshot, and Cas watched as the people in front of them began dancing to a lively song.
“I don’t know who looks more miserable, you or your wife,” Galo said, a hint of amusement in his voice.