Chapter XXIV Owned
XXIV Owned
There is no priest. That’s the first contrast between an Agnidari ceremony and a human wedding.
There is only Magnar, alone and regal, waiting for me by the fire.
As soon as I step close, the heat envelops me.
I lick my lips, doing my best not to shake.
The drums stop, and I almost stumble from the shock of silence.
“My queen,” he welcomes me, his voice loud and sure. “We have wed by human custom, and you belong to me already. Here we stand, ready to claim each other in the custom of my people. I want it known far and wide that you, Caliane, are my wife and queen, the future mother of my heirs.”
“Har!”
The crowd around us explodes in a sharp, unanimous call. I swallow and straighten, acutely aware of how much shorter I am than everyone around me. I’m the only human in the heart of Roharra.
“You shall brand me, and I will forever wear the marks of your claim,” Magnar says, voice rising louder, his eyes burning with the fire reflecting in the silver.
“And thus, our kingdoms shall be united! The crown of Farneer is your dowry, the gold of Farneer—your bridewealth, and your body and soul mine to own, now and forever.”
“Now and forever!”
I shiver when the Agnidari around us repeat his possessive claim. My hands are clammy with sweat, and I clench them only to have my right hand gripped by Magnar as he raises it high over my head, his hold tight around my wrist.
“Roharra! Recognize your queen, the mother of your future rulers!”
“Har!”
“Knights! Recognize your queen and mistress!”
“Har!” Raduna, Khay, and Arvi shout together.
“Ancestors, spirits, and gods in the heavens, recognize my wife and anoint her with fertile hips and generous heart!”
“Har, har, har!”
I grow hotter and hotter, and when Magnar turns me until my back presses to his front, and raises my arms high, it takes every ounce of my self-control to keep my eyes open, my expression calm. I face the dark, menacing crowd of the Agnidari while Magnar shouts over my head.
“Roharra, accept your queen!” He rips the veil off my face with shocking violence that makes me flinch.
The crowd erupts in a cacophony of applause, some clapping and stomping their feet, others making high-pitched, ululating calls.
I swallow and swallow, eyes dancing over the alien, savage display.
They jump, pump their fists, shake their heads, colorful hair flying. It looks like a dance or a violent fit.
It dawns on me that Magnar’s soldiers are a special breed of Agnidari. They spent much of their time in the Eleven, fighting, conquering, keeping peace. They learned our language and customs to ensure quicker victories. I got used to them fast, because they weren’t too different from humans.
The Agnidari of Roharra are wild and untamed, eluding understanding. As soon as Magnar’s hold on my wrists eases, I bring my hands down, trying to hide their shaking in the glittering skirts of my dress.
“I own you now,” Magnar says in a quiet, hard voice, sending goosebumps down my nape. “And it’s time for you to own me. Khay!”
The knight nods and grabs a tall, narrow table, putting it in front of me.
It holds only one thing, an ornate wooden box, the wood black from old age, its intricate carvings smooth from being handled by many hands.
I look at Khay with uncertainty, and he performs a deep, respectful bow, stepping away.
Magnar’s claws dig into my shoulder with the briefest prickle, and he turns me to him.
I look up with apprehension. He looks savage, his teeth bared as he looks at me, but after a moment, his face softens.
“Don’t fear me,” he murmurs, bending his head to mine. “Just a bit longer, pet.”
I shiver, blushing at the endearment he was only supposed to use when mating. Magnar’s eyes are hooded and dark, cheeks flushed purple, and I understand we’re almost done with the ceremony.
And after it ends…
“Mark me, my queen.”
I swallow as he kneels by my side, laying his forearm on the table, inner side up.
I open the box with trembling hands to see a beautiful peacock feather quill with a sharp metal tip, and a glass bottle of something that must be ink.
I’ve never seen this kind before, and when I lift the bottle, the contents sloshes thickly inside, gleaming deep gold.
It shimmers in the light, or maybe has its own glow. It’s hard to say.
“Write on my skin,” Magnar murmurs. “And be careful not to touch the ink, hm? Promise me. Don’t let even a drop touch your skin.”
I look at him with alarm. “What? Why?”
He smiles, the muscles in his bare forearm flexing. “It’s a kind of acid. I want you to use it, Caliane. I’m going to wear your marks.”
“Acid? But no one told me that! Is it going to burn you? You’ll have scars!”
“That’s the point, pet,” he rumbles, nodding at the box. “There is a parchment inside. There are four marks. As you draw them on me, I’ll tell you what they mean. Go on. Be good for your husband.”
I take a shaky breath and nod, opening the parchment.
The marks look utterly foreign, and I study them with a frown, wondering if I can even replicate them well.
But Khay told me they don’t have to be perfect.
I open the ink bottle with care and lean closer, dipping the quill in as I stretch Magnar’s skin taut with my other hand.
“I’m proud of you, love.”
“Stop distracting me,” I mutter through teeth clenched in concentration.
The moment the golden ink touches Magnar’s forearm above his wrist, he hisses, his muscles tensing.
I grit my teeth, determined to finish quickly.
Smoke rises from his skin where I draw, and there’s a peculiar scent, metallic and hot.
I dip the quill again, and finish the first mark, a sort of lopsided rectangle with additional lines.
Magnar takes a deep breath and nods. “This one means loyalty. I give you mine and demand yours, Caliane. Do I have it?”
I look into his eyes, still shaken that he had me carve the mark into his skin with acid. His eyes are tight, face tense until I nod.
“You do. I am loyal to you, my husband.”
He rewards me with a smile and nods at the parchment. “The next one.”
This mark is easy, barely three lines, two of them parallel, one crossing. I draw it as fast as I can, and Magnar makes no sound, but his skin steams, growing dented and gold where the acid hits. I straighten and pull away, and he nods.
“This means lust. It means I will only want you and be faithful to you, and I require the same.”
I frown, glancing at the knights standing nearby. “But…”
“The knights are an extension of me,” Magnar explains. “What you promise me, you promise them, and what I vow to you, they vow, too. But apart from them, no one else. Do I have your lust, my queen?”
I look into his molten eyes, licking my lips that suddenly seem too dry, my lower belly filling with warmth. It takes effort to admit it.
“Yes, my king.”
He takes a deep breath through his nose, his eyes closing as if in relief. When he opens them, his face is drawn even tighter, flushed darker.
“Go on. The next.”
It’s a large crescent with a smaller one tucked at one end, and I complete it meticulously. Magnar grunts when I’m done, a drop of acid falling into the mark and etching it deeper.
“I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll wear it proudly. It’s a mark of protection. It means I will always protect you, always be on your side, always support you. And you, my queen? Will you support me, too?”
I swallow, these vows so much worse than the human ones. This is visceral, intimate, and much less formulaic. It requires honesty.
“I’ll do my best,” I say, because there’s little I can do to help and protect him. Magnar is so strong—and who am I? A sheltered princess.
“And the last one. Please.”
His face softens, tension bleeding out as I dip the quill again, studying the mark. This one is the most complicated of them all, made of curving, elegant lines, and I draw it slowly, dipping the quill again and again. Magnar doesn’t make a sound. I don’t think he’s breathing.
When I pull away, carefully putting the cap back on the bottle, he raises his forearm and studies the marks with a pleased expression.
He stands up, grinning at me, and turns to the gathered Agnidari, raising his hand high.
I gasp when I see how the marks shimmer in the firelight, obvious and visible to all.
The courtyard explodes with noise, people cheering, drums beating loud and fast. Without another word, Magnar throws me over his shoulder. The cheers grow louder, and he waves, already stalking back inside the keep, rose petals crushed under his feet. The knights follow in silence.
“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods,” I whisper under my breath, excitement and fear curling in my belly like twin flames.
“Don’t pray right now, pet,” Magnar says, squeezing my thigh. “Unless you want the gods to watch.”
I clamp my lips shut, and he laughs, taking the stairs three at a time. “Fucking finally. My queen. My wife. At last.”
I gasp when I see my bedroom. Someone must have come inside and filled it with a multitude of candles, lighting fire in the fireplace.
A shimmering, golden glow bathes the chamber, the air smelling of rose oil.
I breathe faster and faster, and when Magnar lets me down by the bed, my knees shake so hard, I barely stand.
The knights come in, Arvi closing the ranks. The door clicks shut, and I gasp shakily, watching them as they stand in front of me, so tall, so big, so many.
Raduna catches my eye and smiles gently, even though his face is flushed just like Magnar’s, his desire obvious.
“The choice is yours, my queen, and no one will hold it against you, whatever you decide.”
My throat is too tight to answer, so I only nod. Magnar steps in front of me, and I lose sight of the knights, although I’m very aware of their presence.