Rosalia's grip tightened fiercely around Max's hand as her father's words landed. He could feel the soft tremble racing through her body, feeding his own nerves until his pulse hammered in his ears.
The second they stepped onto the podium of dried wheat and wild flowers, purple ice flames exploded around them in a blazing circle. Rosalia inhaled sharply. Her eyes flared with ancient power, her body shifting smoothly into her draconic hybrid form. Purple flames licked up from her fingers, wrapping Max in a warm, protective embrace.
"By the spirits of the old gods, I, Rosalia, swear to be a loyal wife and love my husband until the day my body returns to the very same ground the flames birthed me from."
Her smile was soft, secret, and only for him. She finally raised her eyes to meet his. The brilliant purple glow in them hit him like a strike to the chest. She was too beautiful. She was his.
