Chapter Seventeen
Blood
“It is my honor to present you with the dagger of ceremonies,” Emperor Aldritch says, holding out the blade to Varic, who bows before carefully taking the grip of the weapon in his hand.
“You will carry this blade with you, always. And it is my hope that you may never have use for it beyond this ceremony. However, with times throughout our history where the strongest sorcerers were spelled to be without their magic, one must train with a blade to be safe.”
Varic’s eyes narrow as my magic reads the level of suspicion pooling in his middle.
Pity overtakes mine, and I twist threads of calm and complacency into slender lines of tender blue and pale green, sending them straight to Varic.
His shoulders drop before he sends the same back to me, tangled with a bit of yellow, indicating his curiosity.
I nod once his eyes cast over, just enough for him to notice.
His Majesty holds the dagger before him. “The history of Ampara Deicra weaponry—”
My ears tune him out as I’ve heard this lecture at least a thousand times before, as I try to discern how to better help Varic understand what we will be expected to do through emotions I can send him.
I twine every feeling I’ve siphoned from others pertaining to the sensation of nostalgia for historical traditions, plus the unique type of pride I have felt when forming a blood-bond with the rest of my Guards.
Then I combine it with the relief one feels the moment a ceremony comes to an end, and send each to the sorcerer who is failing to dispel his expression of disgust.
His face falls as he sends me even more tendrils of curiosity.
I press my lips together in stifled amusement, then use the level of excitement it brings to help me conjure a sense of contentment and the safety he brings—all stemming from the memory of how he comforted me in my time of despair only the night before.
He nods once as recognition seems to blossom across his expression, softening the lines curving out from the edge of his eyes and the center of his forehead, regardless of such cryptic form of messaging.
My throat constricts when His Majesty appears suspicious, narrowing his gray eyes at me as I brace for the consequence when he holds out the dagger in ceremonial offering to Varic.
“You will use the dagger of ceremony to create a cut deep enough to draw blood from Imperial Grand Witch Tasch’s palm.”
Varic’s eyebrows rise, and my magic pulls on the fear and confusion wreaking havoc in his chest. He releases a breath and reaches for the weapon, assuredly curving his fingers around the grip where they fit perfectly between cross guard and pommel, despite the size of his hands being larger than average.
As if this blade has been custom made for him.
The attention he places on me now scorches my skin, and I swallow when he holds his free hand out with his palm raised to support my own for the ritual.
I straighten my spine in anticipation of the shiver his contact will likely induce in me, then disentangle my fingers from where I’ve been fidgeting with my skirt to slowly lay the back of my hand over his.
We each pull in a breath the moment our skin touches, and my peripheral vision clouds until everyone around us disappears, allowing me to study the way his pulse point throbs within the slope of his neck and how the tip of his tongue flicks out to swipe quickly over his lower lip.
He rolls his shoulders up and back while I press my hand down over his. Then his gaze drops to where he is to cut me. Only he doesn’t raise the dagger, instead he holds it frozen in place while his brows meet in the center, and he looks up at me accusingly.
My chest constricts until I follow his attention to where his thumb rubs over the crescent-shaped impressions left by my fingernails. I open my mouth to respond, then snap it shut while he releases a breath and I pull one in—unable to explain in front of our captive audience.
“You will use the dagger—” His Majesty projects so the crowd hears this time, and I tune him out to focus on sending Varic a tendril made of understanding.
He shakes his head while raising the dagger, and my magic collects the excess anxiety kicking in his chest.
“I trust you,” I whisper.
His eyes flick up to mine as I siphon his concerns, and he finds the courage to place the steel tip on the heel of my palm. His chest expands with a deep intake of breath as he slowly pierces the skin, drawing the edge of the dagger across it until warm blood seeps through the seam.
“Now you will present the dagger to Imperial Grand Witch Tasch,” His Majesty says.
Varic nods, while I roll my lips in to bite down at the smile threatening to break free.
“Witch,” the Emperor intones, and I nod, taking the dagger in my right hand.
Varic offers me his upturned palm, and I contort my now bloodied hand to brace his wrist between the thumb and pointer finger, then sneak one last glance up at his face, which has strangely lit up now that I am the one wielding a weapon over his flesh.
I bring the tip of the dagger down to his skin and delicately slice across his palm like he did with mine.
My hand shakes as I turn the hilt of the dagger to offer it back to him, and I shudder when the edge of our fingers connect in the transfer, with a thrill rolling down my arm and into my chest despite our otherwise sustained contact.
Imperial Priest Kado takes his place beside the Emperor and raises his hands hidden within the wide sleeves of his robe. “You will now join hands in the commencement of the blood-bond.”
I release the tension on Varic’s hand that I still mindlessly hold, and present my injured palm to him.
Varic follows my lead and presses his cut palm flush with my own.
His grip is gentle at first, so I tighten my fingers to seal the tradition the way it is intended.
His eyes widen with concern when I squeeze his hand harder, pressing our injured palms closer together, marrying our lifeblood while we stare back at each other.
“A blood-bond between an Imperial Guard and their charge is a sacred one, formed with a sense of both trust and respect, unifying each of you in a connection unlike any other,” Imperial Priest Kado projects. “Now you will meet eyes and repeat the words of the blood oath to each other.”
Varic shares a small smile with me before we turn to look where we are expected to focus.
“By powers beyond our comprehension, the marrying of our blood while reciting the following words will bind us, body and soul, forevermore.”
Varic’s gaze flicks over to the rest of my Guards before returning to meet my own, finally realizing what type of promise they all made to me so long ago.
“I hereby open my soul to you, and welcome yours in return.”
The words passing our lips feel as if they have been true between us since the day we first met.
“I give this part of myself freely and graciously accept that which you offer—” our voices meld in perfect harmony, drawing tears to form in his eyes and mine “—in faith and goodwill, and acknowledging this bond we forge is binding.”
We each pull in a deep breath, unable to break our eye contact.
The Emperor and Imperial Priest Kado reach out to cup their hands around ours as blood drips from the seam, raising our joined hands high for all to see.
“By the trust bestowed by the Elder Dragons of the Ampara Deicra Empire, I now declare you, Varic Euclid, blood-bound to Imperial Grand Witch Tasch.”
An effervescent sensation fills my chest—and the piercing sting of panic descends as I worry this connection might overtake the place Hendry’s once lived.
Yet now that it settles, and burrows within me, it’s merely an amplification of what Varic already possessed.
Some part of my chest which has always been his.
And I could swear it’s been tinged with his amber.
Raucous applause fills the space as Emperor Aldritch and the Imperial Priest Kado lower our hands to hang between our rigid frames.
“You may now separate your hands,” Imperial Priest Kado instructs.
I sigh in relief, loosening my grip, and we both pull away. The moment our hands separate, my chest constricts with the absence of him.
Emperor Aldritch takes two strips of white gauze from a gold tray held aloft by an Imperial Guard and turns to address Varic. “May you live a long and healthy life in service to the Dragons, to whom we owe everything, and for the good of the Ampara Deicra Empire in protecting our greatest asset.”
Two Imperial servants step forward carrying gold bowls filled with warm water—a strange aspect of the tradition since healers will seal the cuts shortly thereafter.
Varic reaches for my injured hand as the blood from our bond drips down to disappear within the black velvet carpet.
His opposite hand guides mine into the warm water, swishing it lightly until the blood staining my palm dissipates.
He takes the clean towel offered and delicately wipes the slow trickle of blood seeping from my wound, drawing the towel over my skin, ensuring it is dry enough to bandage in a display of care and compassion since my healing Guard could mend it in less than a second.
Taking the long strip of gauze from the Emperor, Varic braces my wrist between the thumb and pointer finger of his injured hand to steady me as he slowly winds the gauze around my wound with the other, tending to my injury so attentively, my heart squeezes.
His gaze blazes a trail up my arm and over my collarbone, then the curve of my neck, until heat blooms hotter in each of my cheeks as he catches me staring. I clear my throat and drop my attention, avoiding his eyes as he watches me work on his own injury.