“Marry me, Prisca. Be mine in the ways of your people, as well as mine.” My throat was too tight to speak. He’d known—how much I’d longed to be married in the future. I’d once told him of the weddings I’d attended. And the words from the woman I’d thought was my mother. “I’m going to get married one day. Here in the village.” “No, you won’t, Prisca. Such things are not for you.” Lorian had remembered. I loved that we were mates, but he wanted me to have a wedding too. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I nodded.
