The officiant began to speak, his voice carrying through the garden, but Alina hardly heard a word. Her world had narrowed down to the man in front of her.
Austin held her hands, enveloping them. When his hands touched hers, she felt a slight tremor in them. Those were the hands that signed military orders without hesitation, the hands that fought against armies and won, and now they were trembling because of her.
Alina squeezedhis fingers, her thumb brushing over his knuckles, silently comforting him.
When the officiant paused and gestured for Austin to speak, he did not reach into his coat for the parchment he had spent three weeks agonizing over.
"You spoke first," Austin began. "You always spoke first. Every important moment between us began with you saying something you weren't supposed to."
A quiet stillness settled over the garden.
