William stood at the chapel altar, trying not to twitch too obviously with impatience. The bride was running a little late, which apparently was quite normal but it made him want to claw something to shreds with anxiety.
His collar felt too tight and the heavy incense in the air was threatening to make him sneeze. He briefly locked eyes with Queen Celia, who smiled at him with indulgence. He smiled back, though part of him suspected the queen was secretly laughing at him for being so flustered.
Did every man feel so jittery at the altar?
William tried to remember the weddings he'd recently attended but his addled mind came up blank. He pulled at his collar again, trying to ignore the mutterings from the priest slightly behind him. He knew the priest was one of Islia's highest ranking bishops but to William, he was just a grim faced old man who peered at everyone as if they were all damned.