The resonant chords of the pipe organ rolled through the vaulted nave, vibrating against the abyssal granite and shaking loose the remaining tension that had suffocated the room.
Upon the raised marble dais, the High Priest produced two ornate velvet cushions. Resting upon them were the ancestral bands of the Starfell line—rings of wrought platinum inlaid with midnight-blue starlight sapphires—and the heavy coronet of the northern Earldom, forged with delicate obsidian peaks resembling the mountain ridge guarding the province.
Laurence Bale turned toward his bride. His dark eyes were clear, steady, and devoid of the fatigue that had plagued him during the months of siege and economic warfare. Taking Victoria's slender hand, he slipped the platinum band onto her finger.
