They made their way to the temple. Two processions led by a covered cart each.
In one cart was a white-clad man with pearls in his robes. Gripping a hardened old hand in his and taking last-minute advice from a woman who was not even a tenth of his age.
He was the man who had warmed his way into her heart as the grandson she never had, despite a happy marriage had lasted twenty years.
In the other, in deep red silks and grinning from ear to ear, was a handsome young man who was a little pale. There had been no way for him to drink blood, no one leaving him alone to take care of himself for the entire day.
Together with him were an angel and a dead man. But only the man knew that. To everyone else, it was his two new in-laws. Basil and Bjorn, husbands from faraway Troy. Uncles to the bride.
