Elric returned with the same calm expression he had worn when he left, his steps measured, his coat uncreased as though the night's shadow had not swallowed him whole. He moved swiftly through the throng of murmuring nobles until he stood once more at Seraphine's side.
He leaned close, his lips barely moving. "It is time we depart, my lady."
Lissa nearly burst with relief. "Finally," she muttered under her breath, though to any who looked, she forced a faint, pained smile, as though the exertion of the evening had taken its toll. Her lungs burned in that suffocating corset; each breath felt like swallowing knives.
Elric's hand was there at once, steady and unyielding, offering her strength. She took it, gripping as though it were the only rope keeping her from drowning. He guided her through the crowd, their movements subtle but deliberate, until the towering doors of the chapel loomed.
The air shifted suddenly sharp, like a blade against skin.
