Ilya tips his head and smiles. "So did I. I was nearly hockey player." He'd been very, very good to. Instead he got talked into following his father into the military, as if it were his duty. He was honorably discharged now and had little to do with his time.

He laughs. "We all do our duty, don't we?" It felt sometimes as if they were living centuries before modern times, when arranged marriages were still common. Now it stood out and seemed like some backwards tradition dreamed up by those in power to ensure power stayed with them and theirs.

But here he was, talking to the future bride groom. Who Ilya couldn't help admiring the subtle freckles on his face or the way his trousers hugged his ass.