His grandmother’s ring lay flat on Rodolphus’ hand, and for a wild moment he wondered if he could refuse. If he could claim to need more time, to not feel certain. But then his father’s face filled his head and knew his feeble excuses would award him a slap that would leave a furious red mark on his cheek.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Rabastan asked, and what might have been a rare moment of honesty courtesy of Rodolphus, was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“It doesn’t matter.” He stood up. “Come on. We mustn’t keep the guests waiting.”