Carissa instinctively reached for Adrian's hand, only to see a different hand extended toward her.

The hand was broad and long, with a palm covered in calluses, fingers slender and nails neatly trimmed. Most importantly, just above the palm, she could see a white sleeve embroidered with griffin patterns. The griffin pattern was allowed to be used on a prince's wedding garment or even normal ceremonial robes, but the sky griffin pattern was not.

It was Rafael, her husband-to-be.

Regaining her composure, Carissa placed her hand in his. He, too, seemed unfamiliar with holding hands. He first enveloped her hand with his palm, then awkwardly turned it a few times to find a proper fit before finally interlocking their fingers.

Carissa's heart raced wildly, pounding so loudly it felt as though it might burst through her eardrums. But if it were possible, she would have heard Rafael's heartbeat quickening in tandem with hers, a sensation so intense it bordered on dizziness.

Rafael led her towards the carriage. It seemed there were murmurs that this was improper; typically, it was the matchmaker who led the bride to the carriage. But to hell with tradition.

Carissa was his bride, and also his princess consort.

He would lead her himself.

They would walk side by side toward the future he had always dreamed of.

Of course, they couldn't truly walk side by side, given the height difference, but who cared?

Rafael moved as if walking on clouds, this scene more dreamlike than any dream.

have predicted that fate

earlier, implying his lack of decorum-no greeting

now? If there were any punishment, so

only Carissa-his bride and

were many people around them, but

his

simply lift her into his arms for

formidable strength, his body felt soft and unsteady at this moment. He felt as though he was stumbling with every step. Where was his

Gone!

She supported Carissa, and stabilized their

moment, Carissa was dying to lift the veil and catch a glimpse of Rafael in his

been a bit careless, forgetting the etiquette her mother

instant, the sound

embarrassing, though

heart, however, was

she wasn't afraid. Her master and fellow guild members, including Ryan, were all following the procession

she couldn't see how Rafael struggled to mount his horse, almost unable to climb onto the

from the crowd, and Rafael's face was as red as a tomato. Summoning his inner force, he performed a dashing leap onto the

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