What game are they playing?
“The bride has requested she see her female witness before the ceremony,” one of the men announces.
I nod. “Of course,” I agree, even though my heart hammers in my chest like a jackknife, and I want to get this over with as soon as possible. She isn’t getting the elaborate wedding with a gown and party afforded a traditional wife of Russia, so I suppose a few minutes to fix her makeup or whatever it is she wants is reasonable. Marissa eagerly takes my betrothed by the arm and leads her to the bedroom. They shut the door behind them, and we all stand in silence.
At first there’s no sound at all, but a few seconds later, I hear Marissa’s familiar voice and the softer, higher pitched voice of my future wife. I can’t hear what either of them say. They talk for long minutes, and I tap my foot impatiently as I wait. What is she asking her? What is she helping her do? What are they saying about me? I give them ten minutes before my patience is gone.
I stalk to the door and rap on it. “That’s enough,” I say through the closed door. “Marissa, bring her out here.”
Silence, a few more whispered words, then the door opens, and the two women return to the room. Marissa won’t meet me eyes. My impatience and apprehension grow.
“Take your bride’s hand,” Stefan says. “And join me by the fireplace.”
I do. Her hand is smaller than mine, freezing cold, and clammy. On instinct, I take her cold hand in both of mine to warm her, but I don’t say anything to alleviate her fear. I need to read her first, to assess her temperament. If she’s contrary or willful, she’ll learn to fear and respect me.
The ceremony is brief, utilitarian, and within minutes, it’s time to say our vows. I say mine in Russian, pleased she does the same. Her voice is clear and musical, like church bells, and it stirs something in me to hear her vow to love, honor, and obey, words that now are merely rote with little meaning, but vows I’ll hold her to. Most of them, anyway. The love is optional. Honor and obedience are not. I slide the ring Stefan gives me on her tiny finger.
I’ve mentally prepared myself for the unveiling. I don’t anticipate her to be a raving beauty and have already decided I have a higher purpose. Stefan nods to me to remove her veil, and the poor thing actually whimpers a little. She trembles so badly I have to steady her arm before I even lift the veil.
I grasp the edge of the veil, inhale deeply, and lift it, getting my first real glimpse of the woman I’ve made vows to.
Her head is bowed, her eyes cast down, and tears stream down her cheeks. Why? I’m not sure. Tears don’t move me, but I will find out the reason she cries.
I take her chin in my hand and tip her head upwards. I notice two things at once: she has the largest, most beautiful pale green eyes I’ve ever seen, framed in thick black lashes and brimming with tears, but furious. And second, down the side of her face, from cheek to jaw, runs an angry, vivid scar. A knife wound.
I don’t think about my reaction but respond instinctively. Cupping her face in my hand, I draw my thumb from the top of the scar to the bottom. My hands shake in anger. I ignore the way she flinches and pulls away. I grab the small of her back to hold her in place, not allowing her to pull away from me. Heat rises in my chest when I vow then and there that I will make whoever did this to her pay, that anyone who would mar a woman’s face deserves a swift, merciless death. It could be any one of them. He could be standing in front of us now.
In my anger, to prove she’s mine before the witnesses before us, I lean down and kiss my wife to seal our vows. It’s a quick, nearly chaste kiss, hard and fast. She nearly stumbles, and when I pull away from her those pretty green eyes shutter, her jaw tightens, and she turns away from me.
Stefan looks from her to me in surprise but maintains composure.
“Thank you for officiating,” I tell him, my back to the men who escorted her here. I grasp her elbow, so she doesn’t run, and hold Stefan’s eyes. He’s staring at her scar with undisguised surprise, but quickly schools his features. Still, I want her alone. Now.
“Have your men escort our visitors to the exit,” I tell him. “Their job here is done.”
I want those men gone as far away from her as possible.