The moment James and I got home, I dropped my bouquet onto the little kitchen table and laughed.
“I can’t believe we’re married,” I said, kicking off my shoes in the bedroom. “We did it.”
James didn’t answer.
I thought he was just tired. The wedding ceremony had been small, stiff, and weirdly tense. Even at the reception lunch, nobody really relaxed. I tried to ignore it. After all, my family had never made any secret of how they felt about James.
But when I turned to face my husband, he was standing in the bedroom doorway, watching me with a strange look in his eyes.
The wedding ceremony had been small, stiff, and weirdly tense.
“Elara,” he said my name in a deep, commanding tone I’d never heard from him before, “you passed the test.”