The antechamber outside the ceremonial hall was hushed, layered with the careful movements of attendants, the soft rustle of fabric, and the distant echo of bells being tested and retested.
Dax stood near the tall mirror, already dressed.
The ivory and gold of his formal coat caught the light like something carved to his frame, embroidery tracing strength and lineage along his shoulders and down his chest. The cut emphasized his height, his build, and the impossible calm of a man who had worn crowns and armor with the same ease. Only the mantle remained different - black and gold, heavy with the symbols of Saha, draped over one arm like a reminder of what he was beyond today's vows.
Killian circled him with the focused anxiety of a man who had overseen security details, state dinners, and assassination attempts and found all of them less stressful than a wedding.
