She waited, her breath hitching in her throat. The atmosphere was thick with tension, a palpable pressure that made the skin prickle. This was not a mere political marriage; it was a metaphysical necessity.
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He took the chain from the acolytes. The metal hummed in his grasp, reacting to his power. It was a collar, designed to suppress a mage's will and bind them to a master. For the Chosen Bride, it was both a prison and a crown. She waited, her breath hitching in her throat