“Cassie would never forgive me if I let you walk on your own, and I couldn’t let that happen. You’re as much a princess to me as she is, and…”
“Please don’t. You’re going to make me cry, and Arabella will tell me off for ruining my make-up.”
He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of my head at the same time as the doors open and the waft of incense greets us with the back of the priest.
His thurible swings from one hand as he starts to walk towards the altar with a crosier in the other. He sings a prayer in lieu of the wedding march.
I hold on tighter to Francis. The golden candlelight in the near darkness is eerily beautiful, and with the Gregorian chant, it’s all very hypnotic. To the point that I’m not really all that aware of how quickly the priest makes it to the front.
It’s only when I look up from the candle-lined walkway that I see Casper. My thundering heart trips over itself, stilting to an uneven, erratic beat.
He looks bigger than ever, and the planes of his face glow a diffused gold while the shadows are darker than ever. He’s the most majestic creature I’ve ever seen. Truly. He could be a perfectly carved statue. Except that the closer we get, his lips turn up softly and so do mine.
This is it. Nothing will ever encompass this day.
All the things that hadn’t faded into nothing, do. It’s only the two of us as he takes my hand from Francis and hands him the small bouquet of ivory, pink, and blood-red roses.
I imagine this is what it feels like for nature when everything in the universe aligns. In that moment where the moon eclipses the sun and there is nothing but peace in darkness. For a moment, everything ceases to exist.
“Hey, Trouble,” Casper whispers with a grin. Peeling back the veil, he licks his lips, eyes roaming every inch of my face. Awe and self-righteous pride line his regal features.
“Hey, big man,” I manage as he helps me down onto the wide hassock in front of the priest in unison with him.
It’s all a blur. The prayer. The hymn. Everything except my hand resting on his with his thumb stroking over my knuckles. A metronome I pace my breaths to.
Casper stands, helping me up with him. We face each other just as the glint of the small knife catches my eye.
This is the part I’ve been dreading. Last time I saw it, it looked old and blunt.
“Okay?” Casper asks, taking my right hand in his right hand. He squeezes before turning my hand palm up and presenting it to the father. He then does the same with his.
Pressing the tip of the dagger to the tip of Casper’s finger until a heavy drop of blood pools on the surface before running down his long digit, the priest chants another prayer.
I stiffen as he repeats the process on my index finger, saying, “Dixitque Adam: Hoc nunc os ex ossibus meis et caro carne mea.”
Our palms flatten together, and the crucifix is threaded over our joint hands and wound once so that the weight of the jewelled cross pulls the loop taught.
“Haec vocatibur virago quoniam de viro sumpta est.” The father closes his hands over ours, repeating his words. “And Adam said, this is now bones of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.”
Turning to the altar, he reaches for the Holy Oil, raising it in silent gratification before dipping his thumb and marking the cross on each of our foreheads.
“Bones of my bones. Flesh of my flesh…”
“Blood of my blood,” Casper ends the ritual with a solemn nod at our hands.
In all its archaic pomposity, it’s the most perfect ceremony. There’s no I do, no agreement or promise made. There’s just us, binding ourselves to one another in faith, love, and blood.
Once the blood vow is done, the crucifix placed around my neck, the more traditional blessing is given. By the time Christopher hands the priest the rings, my insides are vibrating so hard that I can’t control the big smile that cuts my face when Casper threads the simple gold band on my finger.
Butterflies soar inside me and God, after all the other formalities and liturgy, it’s this one small gesture that renders me a mess. I’m shaking as I thread Casper’s equally simple band onto his finger, sighing when I spot his signet ring.
He got my note. And he knows that this ceremony isn’t what binds me to him. It’s just a gesture. He is the only thing that could bind me to him. The man he is.
Casper wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. He lifts me up his body until we’re face to face. My hand moulds to his cheek as his free one moulds to mine. He grins wide before pressing his lips to mine, hard, for a chaste kiss.
But then his teeth graze my lips, and I open up to let him have me. Nipping and licking, he savours our kiss as I breathe into his mouth.