As confused as she was, and acutely aware of the countless eyes fixed upon her, Lilian rose slowly to her feet and approached the priest.
She cast a brief glance at Caelan, who looked just as taken aback, his expression carefully restrained, yet the faint tightening of his jaw told her everything she needed to know. He had been given no warning of this either.
She had never heard of such a tradition. Not once.
Surely, the priest was mistaken.
She and the duke were not eternally bound, despite whatever solemn words had just been spoken. This was not a fate set in stone. She would leave when the opportunity presented itself.
Of that, she was certain.
But right now, she could feel the gravity of the moment press against her ribs.
She turned to Caelan.
He met her gaze without flinching, his expression carefully unreadable. There was no surprise there, no urgency, no insistence.
Only quiet acceptance.
