Chapter 39 #2
But I needed them to see me as a beautiful, breakable thing, a novelty. I cared that the whispers were about how I’d been used and not how I was going to use them right back. And trust Nico to be the only one here to see me for what I really was.
Even after knowing me for like… a couple of hours.
Then Emilia’s fingers were tightening on my arm, dragging my attention back to her. “It’s time,” she declared, her face shining with excitement. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”
“Time for what?” I asked, fear curdling the wine in my stomach as she led me away.
“For the Rite, naturally.” She flashed a smile, all High Priestess now.
“Did you think we gathered everyone together tonight to drink wine and gossip about what happens in your marriage bed? That first ritual was a sham, Emberline. Tonight, the two of you will be bound properly. In a proper ritual by a proper officiant. Me.”
Terror mounted with every step as Emilia led me toward the center of the hall, where candles were arranged in a precise circle. In black, glossy obsidian, a symbol was inset into the stone floor, and a shallow silver bowl sat atop the marking, engraved with glowing sigils.
The room quieted, conversations fading away like smoke.
One by one, DiSangue priests emerged from side doors and stairways, robes so black they absorbed the light, those hideous red markings glistening at the base of their throats, until I was surrounded.
I caught the briefest glimpse of Gabriel, Nico two steps behind, pale eyes picking up the candlelight.
Where was Dante?
I’d heard terrible tales of this island my entire life, and they all came back to me now, stories of sacrifices and ritual killings, of depraved blood ceremonies and decapitated bodies. I subtly ran my hand down my skirting, confirming my knives were still in place.
“Lord Dante Dominico. Lady Emberline DiRavello. Tonight you will be joined by our customs, in blood and in vow, before the gods we serve.”
The priests parted.
Dante’s eyes found mine as he stalked toward me as if panic fueled him. Relief flooded through me when he took my hand, threading our fingers together, the air thick with incense and expectation.
“In the beginning, there was chaos,” Emilia intoned. “Our kind tore this city apart. It was the DiRavello who offered order. The Draconi who enforced it. The Demente who watched from the shadows, the DiSangue who sanctified, and the Dominico who ruled.”
As she spoke, my mind supplied the details she left out. The backroom deals. The betrayals. The families purged from history when they’d defied the Compact. The smoke from hundreds of pyres rolling over the lagoon when a line was erased.
“Tonight, we weave a new thread into the tapestry,” Emilia announced. “A daughter of DiRavello. A son of Dominico. Their union strengthens the pillar of rule, their blood, mingled, reinforces the ancient bond that binds us together.”
She produced a slender silver blade from her sleeve, candlelight sliding along its keen edge. Dante’s grip on me tightened, his thumb pressed over my skittering pulse.
“Do you accept this male as yours, Emberline?” Emilia asked. “Do you vow to uphold the needs of the Dynasty above your own desires?”
My throat tightened. It would be so easy to lie.
But the High Priestess of the DiSangue could smell a false vow like rot.
And that was the test.
That was why we were here to test our resolve. And if I was anything, it was committed to finding my father’s killer. And the way to do that was to complete this ritual and convince Emilia that I was worthy.
“I do,” I vowed, the words tasting of iron. “I will serve this Dynasty until the end.”
Emilia’s eyes flashed, “And you, Dante?” she asked. “Do you accept this female as yours, Lord Dominico? Do you vow to uphold the Compact, despite… your past disagreements with the hand that holds your leash?”
Dante smiled, slow and razor-edged. “I accept nothing, but I will uphold the laws of the Dynasty.” His eyes never left mine. “As far as the rest… yes, I take her to be mine.”
Emilia’s smile sharpened into something almost savage. “Very well.”
She slid the blade across my palm first, a quick, precise cut that sent a familiar hot flare of pain up my arm. Blood welled, dark and rich, dripping into the silver bowl with a soft patter. Then she turned to Dante, repeating the motion.
Our blood mixed as each droplet fell, splashing into the silver bowl, a sea of red that swirled together, the air around us charged and glowing, priests swaying as they chanted.
The tattoos on their throats glowed as well, crimson light flashing, the curved ceiling magnifying the sound until I could barely think around the din.
The magic in the room shifted.
Emilia’s dark power changed to something seductive, a slithering darkness that slipped through flesh and bone, like a song stuck on repeat, suffused with ancient power.
Candles extinguished, and I was in the dark, surrounded by a sea of glowing red sigils, anchored only by Dante’s hand, and the place where our fingers wove together felt like the only solid thing in the world.
My heart thundered, and Dante’s beat at the same rhythm, even our breathing in sync.
I’d never felt as perfectly aligned with anyone in my life.
A slender ribbon of blood rose out of the bowl, twining around our wrists, threading between our fingers. Binding us together in bands of crimson, warm and wet, and so, so strange, the way this seemed like the right way to be married.
I found Dante staring down at me, that pulsing light reflected in his ocean-blue eyes.
In that moment, besides this feeling of rightness, something settled deep inside me.
Purpose.
“The magic deems you both worthy of each other and of serving the Dynasty,” Emilia proclaimed, sliding her knife away and raising her hands. “The ancient forces have spoken; this marriage is recognized not only by the Council, but by the gods themselves. The wolf and the swan have become one.”
The entire room exhaled, no one more relieved than me that somehow, we’d managed to fool not only the High Priestess, but the magic itself.
Candles ignited, and the circle of priests melted away.
Applause rose, polite and perfunctory, a smattering of gloved hands and half-hearted toasts.
Dante leaned close, warm breath skating over my ear. “Well, that was unexpected. I half thought we’d be struck by lightning.”
“Life is filled with happy surprises.” I scanned the crowd’s hungry faces, their calculating smiles. From the shadows, Gabriel’s blue eyes flashed as he raised his glass in salute, his expression flat. “We’ve survived our first event as husband and wife. I could really use a drink.”
“I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here and away from these bloodsuckers.”
“Well, that, too.” I squeezed his hand, catching Nico in the crowd, dipping his head to me with a conspiratorial smile. I nodded back before I realized the Draconi soldier wasn’t looking at me at all, but over my head…
At Dante.
My husband led me through the crowd, cruel whispers of gossip picking up as we passed, eyes gleaming with malice and lust, couples pairing up and disappearing into dark alcoves.
I tuned them all out, focused only on one thing.
Why had Nico nodded at Dante, like they shared some sort of secret?
And then… had Gabriel been lifting his glass to me… or to his brother?