Silas stood still at the altar.
Unmoving. Unblinking. Unbreathing.
The ceremonial hall—once buzzing with silks, whispers, and enchanted fanfare—was now a vacuum of silence.
Dead silence.
Everyone was staring at the Grand Duke like he'd just been turned into a very well-tailored statue. Somewhere in the third row, a noble whispered too loudly, "Did the Grand Duke turn into stone?"
Even the enchanted choir dared not breathe.
The Empress leaned toward the Emperor and whispered behind her fan, "Do you think he's still alive?"
The Emperor glanced sideways at Silas, who hadn't so much as twitched, then smiled faintly. "Don't worry. He's very much alive. It's just… the man standing at that altar is head over heels in love with his soon-to-be wife."
"Groom," the Empress corrected sharply. "And you didn't stand like that when you married me."
The emperor froze. His soul visibly left his body. "My dearest—"
"We'll talk after the ceremony," she said sweetly.
