Chapter 18 #2
Blood witches were permitted to stay with their family until they matured.
Then they were required to join the sisterhood residing in a lighthouse at the northernmost edges of the isle.
The priestesses guarded our history, tended to tradition, feasted on any humans they gave refuge to, and deciphered messages that some supposedly received from Vexaya.
It was not our laws that forbade the priestesses from staying in society, but the goddess. Failing to honor Vexaya by risking the creation of more vampire-human hybrids was rumored to guarantee a blood witch’s untimely demise.
Living out the majority of your evenings in a lighthouse seemed a worse fate than bonding. Yet this priestess before us seemed perfectly content.
Although Lehana’s hair had yet to gray, lines creased the corners of her almond-brown eyes as she smiled at me. “Ask,” she whispered.
Startled, I gaped at Brey. Rolling his lips to hold back the laughter in his eyes, he nodded toward the priestess, encouraging me to murmur, “How old are you?”
Brey stilled.
I glared and almost hissed, you told me to.
But Lehana just chuckled. “Older than your great-grandmother, young one. May the Mother enjoy her eternal soul.”
Shocked, I gaped again—until the priestess turned to another who stood behind the dais. She thanked her and turned back to us with two black goblets. Golden engravings of vines, interwoven with stars, encircled the glass rims.
As the violins slowed to a haunting stop, chatter ceased almost immediately.
“Typically,” said the priestess, “a bond is forged privately. Given this is a royal ceremony, and therefore public, we shall forge this union in a more…” Her lips curved. “Sophisticated way.”
While the word bond grazed my skin like a blade, Brey returned the priestess’s sly smile. Brief bouts of laughter from our guests steeled my spine.
“A bond between born vampires is not only eternal but sacred,” the priestess announced. “Without these bonds, there would be no vampirekind—no magic, no mayhem, and no monsters on Vexaya’s beloved isle.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Groth by the doors. His gray eyes were glassy, and his hands pressed to his mouth.
“We are gathered this evening to witness another link in the chain of longevity,” the priestess continued. “To bind our king and his chosen queen in vampire matrimony.”
A chorus of clapping ensued.
The priestess gave us the goblets, then procured a thick stick of something from a belt at her waist. The priestess behind her stepped forward with a lit candle and pressed the flame to the stick. She retreated against the wall, and Priestess Lehana declared, “You may reveal your intended.”
My gloves were removed first. As Brey gently lifted my veil and laid it over my hair, I clutched the goblet so tightly that it was a wonder the glass didn’t fracture.
Before he stepped back, his fingers glossed my arm. A reassuring touch.
But without my veil, I felt unexplainably exposed—standing above a ballroom filled to capacity.
A cloying scent, so strange I couldn’t place it, engulfed us as Priestess Lehana hummed an eerie tune. The smoke wafting from the stick she waved darkened to a shade of purple. Plum, I realized, to match that of our blood, as she slowly circled us upon the dais.
As she did, we were forced closer. So close, our goblets clinked, and I struggled to keep an eye on the twirling, humming blood witch.
Brey’s finger touched mine, and I jumped.
He grinned.
It waned as he noted my unease. If it were evident to him, then it was undoubtedly evident to those close enough to see us.
So I lifted my chin and curled my lips.
A slight groove appeared between his dark brows. He knew my smile was forced and narrowed his eyes to tell me so, which made me smile in earnest. “Stop it,” I mouthed.
A brow arched as he mouthed in return, “Stop what?”
I ducked my head, shaking it.
When I dared to look at him again, he was grinning so broadly that he looked ridiculous.
A laugh tried to escape, becoming a snort when I trapped it. Brey used his goblet to cover his mouth, shoulders shaking with his own laughter.
The priestess blocked us from view and gestured for my hand. Still humming, she slid a small blade shaped like a scythe moon across my palm. The sting was expected, yet it still burned in a way a normal cut wouldn’t.
Something coated the steel.
She then closed my fingers into a fist and moved it atop my goblet. Her humming became louder, faster, as my blood flowed until a deep, dark purple half filled the goblet.
Brey was given the same treatment.
Unlike me, he didn’t flinch as the blade broke his skin. Nor did he need prompting. He held my eyes as he held his hand over his goblet until it had half filled with his blood.
I expected to be handed it, and that he would take mine.
But the priestess took the goblets from us, stepped down from the dais, and placed them in the small gap between us. She dipped her fingers into each, rubbed them together, then drew a circle around our feet.
Her humming became a chant.
Gasps and murmurs arose from the guests.
My eyes widened when I looked down to find the blood circle thickening—almost bubbling.
Our blood binding.
The circle complete, the priestess stopped before the dais. She gestured to our goblets, and Brey collected them. We raised each other’s to our lips.
Brey’s eyes met mine, a gleam within. Then he tipped the goblet and drank.
Careful not to ruin my lip paint, I drank his blood slowly. I savored every drop, disappointment melting my bones when I was done.
It was said that you didn’t notice any change. That when a bond was forged, you felt no different at all.
Not until the female bled.
Yet when I lowered the goblet and looked at Brey—my bonded, my husband, my king—warmth cascaded through me in a pleasurable rush.
With another round of applause, the ceremony concluded, and we were quickly caught in a whirlwind of guests wishing to congratulate us.
Before we could near Lord Wendyll, I tugged Brey’s arm. “Not him.”
“Oh?” Though his tone was playful, I felt him stiffen. “Why ever not?”
“Because I once spent too much time with him, and the look on his face says he wishes to make sure you’re aware of it.”
When Brey didn’t respond, I peered up at him—and found him glowering at the lord. Fighting a smile, I said, “Perhaps we need some wine.”
“Perhaps,” Brey said tightly.
We collected two glasses from a human server, who wore a crimson-dotted scarf at her throat. I sipped, then murmured to Brey, “They’ve already started feasting on the servers.”
“We’re paying them handsomely,” he clipped, then tipped his head to drain his wineglass before handing it back to the server. A blown-out breath heaved his chest. “Now, is there anyone else you need to warn me about?”
“Are you jealous?”
“Jealous?” He scoffed. “Try murderous.” Leaning down, he whispered thickly in my ear, “Wife.”
I shivered. Turning to him, I said, “I do not loathe the sound of that.”
He hummed and tilted my chin. Stroking beneath it, he searched my eyes. “Would you like me to say it again?”
“Please.”
His lashes drooped. “Do you think anyone will notice if we leave?” Gaze fastening to my mouth, he rubbed his thumb across my lower lip. “Wife.”
Smiling, I stepped close and laid my hand on his chest. “We are the main attraction.”
“I believe that is you.”
Unable to resist, I nipped his thumb—then drew it into my mouth.
His eyes flared, then glazed. “You are committing an act of public indecency.” Yet he didn’t pull his thumb free. “I should like a word with you in private.”
I released him to whisper, “How private?”
“Deeply private.”
Tempted, I tossed my eyes around the ballroom—only to feel them widen when I looked back at Brey. “Everyone is watching us.”
His lips twitched. “I didn’t notice.” He gripped my waist. “Fear not, lethal.” A low and throaty purr rumbled into my ear as he squeezed my hips. “Our chat can be both brief and fruitful.” Another squeeze came with a groan. Mouth skimming my cheek, he murmured, “So very fruitful.”
As his head rose, our noses touched. My eyes fluttered closed.
“Majesty,” Groth said, alarmed.
Brey sighed. Cold washed in as he stepped back. “Which one?”
Groth appeared even more alarmed and quickly bowed deeply toward me. “Of course.” Straightening, he smiled. “Forgive me, my queen.”
“I’ll consider it,” I teased.
Groth scowled.
Chuckling, Brey said, “I assume there is a pressing reason for your timely interruption.”
With a wince, Groth nodded. “The gates have been breached. Ovan is in the hall, awaiting your instruction.”
Noticing the concern on my face, Brey said, “We expected this.” He stepped close to whisper, “When I return, we will talk about your lewd behavior.” A kiss was given to my forehead as he added, “Majesty.”
I fought a smile.
It won when he took two steps, then returned to clasp my face in his hands.
“Before you worry about the repercussions of your actions…” He kissed me, once yet lingering softly. When my eyes opened, he murmured against my mouth, “You should probably know that I’m egregiously in love with you.”
Unable to wholly grasp what he’d just said, I could only stare as Brey grinned and backed into the crowd.
Then he turned and disappeared.
“Daughter.”
My father’s voice was more than an unwelcome intrusion. It was a forceful kick to the stomach that planted my feet firmly on the tiled floor. For a moment, I thought about pretending I hadn’t heard him. I needn’t answer to him anymore. I needn’t fear displeasing him anymore.
It seemed some habits were indeed hard to escape.
I took a gulp of wine, then turned to him with my best smile. “There you are.”
Lord Aphylus gripped the lapels of his dark brown dress coat. Eyeing me, he said, “Now that the fancy business is out of the way, I expect you’ll be seeing to the wards.”
“We’ve yet to discuss them,” I said before I could think better of it.