Iona was acutely aware of the nobility of Galahar, which mostly consisted of council members. She knew that they were all looking at her and despite trying her best to maintain her cool, she was finding herself to slip on the edge. And Rolfe could see how she was fidgeting. As if understanding her, Rolfe leaned over and whispered, "I love the oil you've put on yourself. The scent is one of my favorites." She gave him a nervous smile and bit her bottom plump lip. "Don't you bite that lip. That's for me to bite," he said as a low rumble formed in his chest. Iona blushed and lowered her head, totally distracted from what she was thinking.
The priest took a long time to conduct the ceremony. In the end, he asked Iona to bring forward her palm. When she gave him her palm, he sliced it with a sharp dagger, leaving a trail of blood. The priest held her palm and offered it to his prince.
