Chapter 18
The Gods are vain but none so like Him. From inception, he created us so that our kind would demand respect.
Temple day, at its core, is one of the most sacred holy days. It is a monthly religious event that all who fall below Erees attend. Erees, our sole God, has blessed the damned with so many gifts and strengths. It would be a great dishonor not to spend a day of worship at our temple.
Or so Jett tells me.
The temple, located in the woods just outside the castle grounds, is a masterpiece of architecture.
No one is quite sure of its exact age, but it predates the past three generations of ruling vampyr, which equates to about three thousand years.
King Martine, the founder of Lux and Cedric’s grandsire, built it when Demis was constructed.
With intertwining spires, iron cast to meet in symmetrical curved peaks along the roof like a rib cage, it is the purest reflection of darkness.
The upkeep this building would need to stay pristine does not pass me, but they also have magic.
As do I.
Rows and rows of pews fill with various members of the court, nobles, merchants, courtiers. The cavern inside is modest but the worshippers are not. Erees apparently appreciates the sentiment. A half-pew in the back filled with a small family is the only place I can sit.
“Here,” the mother whispers. She helps her young child pass me a small book of hymns, the red binding worn with use. “Thank you,” I grin back and the boy giggles and shoves his face into his mother’s side. She simply winks back before turning to her husband.
The organs start, followed by the sound of the crowd standing, their shifting silks and murmurs.
The song is slow and deep, building and swelling like a cascading wave.
Beside me, the intricately carved wooden double doors swing open next to my form, hiding me wholly from the aisle. I chuckle softly and stand.
He begins his walk, focusing on each step that drags the excessively long cape.
The details are hard to make out but the fabric is a deep shade of plum; threads of gold and silver cause it to twinkle.
A picture is woven in red thread, but I can’t make it out from here.
Heads bow one by one as Cedric treads the aisle, holding his head and crown high.
The flickering candles and their melted wax light the path.
He grips a sceptre in his left hand, his right holding a glass orb filled with blood. The silver-and-gold sceptre catches the light of various candles around the space. How many generations of rulers have held this staff in the same position as he does today?
The mother near me opens the hymn book for her son and begins explaining the temple’s formalities.
“Okay poppet, remember our lesson? At the base of the aisle is Arch Gerard, the presiding keeper of Erees. He leads our temple but he serves King Cedric and the royal family. He’s very old – no one knows how old.
But the Arch has presided over all Bloodrites, temple sermons and other duties for two generations past.”
Which would make him at least two thousand years old.
“Mama, he’s scary.” The boy turns his face into her shoulder and she giggles while rubbing his head. “I know, poppet.”
Goosebumps raise on my arms as I take in his worn form on the dais.
He smiles faintly, creasing near his eyes as Cedric approaches.
With care, Cedric lowers onto both knees before Arch Gerard and presents the sceptre.
The Arch practically floats forward and rests his spindly hand upon Cedric’s brow.
“Let darkness be with you,” he croaks.
“And with you,” he replies before rising and taking his seat just off center. The king is at the center of any temple, it appears.
“That position is held for Erees himself.” The mother points and her son looks up just briefly.
His throne, completely untouched, glimmers under the skylight overhead as twilight washes over the sky.
“One day he may return,” Gerard says and the crowd lifts their hand to their throat and makes a slicing motion before seating.
I didn’t catch on fast enough to make that motion but as rows lower down and the doors close, I become acutely aware of the eyes upon me.
Heads turn over shoulders before turning to each other in whisper.
Before I can try to tune in, the organ picks up again and the crowd opens their hymnals and begins to sing. The mother next to me quickly flicks mine open to the correct chorus and I nod in thanks. The song tells a story of the Gods’ first war after Erees created his beloved vampyr.
Reason could not defeat the sweet sickle of mis—
Trust in the darkness of His abyss
For what creation underneath
Is wrong when it was from He?
Arch Gerard leads the ceremonies after that, occasionally referring to Cedric and thanking Erees for a powerful and just leader. His line has been chosen by Erees to rule. Few have tried to contest the family name, but Cedric’s has stood unfaltering.
Up on the dais, he does not shift or look disinterested. His face, his mask, is unreadable. Cedric the king is a force never to be tried. Curling shadows pool around his feet – what are those? Did he let the leash loose for this event?
The second hymnal begins with a loud trumpet behind me, bringing me back to present.
Cedric’s gaze flicks over to the left where there are rough marks on the floor in the shape of a chair or a table.
The lyrics of this song enrapture me again, but my eyes can’t help but stay fixed on the dais. What was there before?
In the rolling cascade where He found purchase for the Made
That question never came again
When the misty shack wobbles before the holy He laid
That answer no will further gain
Gerard’s voice rattles me and I slam the hymnal book closed, drawing the attention of more curious eyes.
“My dark brothers and sisters, sons and daughters of Erees, do not forget your place in his divine creation. Never has a society been more blessed by the fruits of darkness.” He opens his arms, elation growing across his face.
“Rejoice in your existence. Rejoice. Under His name, Erees.” Gerard walks over to Cedric slowly, raises the crown from his head and plants a kiss onto the metal base of it before setting it back down.
The crowd repeats back in unison, “Under His name.”
“Under His name,” I murmur, standing with everyone as Cedric begins his walk back down the aisle. Subjects bow their heads to him in reverence and he tries to give them some attention.
“Thank you for attending.”
“You look well.”
“I pray for your family.”
Slowly, he approaches my pew as the doors click open. He pauses, caught in his movements, and notices me finally. The heads of the crowd all turn abruptly to us and I wring my gloves between my hands.
I make a decision in that moment. One that might cost me.
With all of the grace and confidence I can muster, I rise to my full height before dipping into the most humbling curtsy.
My short lessons this week with Isadora have surely paid off because when I rise, pure happiness alights his shifting eyes.
As if he cannot believe it, his eyes roam down my body to the dress I specifically picked this evening.
Black diamonds line the top half of the dress, fading out towards the middle of the skirts where they begin to mix with red gems. Upon my head rests a diadem.
The blackened metal has loops with delicate pearls dangling, and resting in the center is a red ruby, shaped like a blood drop.
In this light, I know the diadem twinkles.
We pulled the red pieces of my hair on either side, tucked under the black gems placed strategically in the curls, like a reversed night.
He extends his free hand and lets me see the genuine smile bloom across his face. A gift, it feels like a gift to see him like this. Gently, I rest my hand upon his and let him guide me from behind the pew. The door opens wider and he whispers, “Do as I do.”
Together, hand in hand, we bow deeply to our court. My knees nearly give out from shock as we bend in respect to those who uphold our rule. His rule.
A brief pause, as if no one knows how to take in the image before them.
Their king and their beloved Elivienne, the next queen of Lux, united once again.
A deafening cheer fills the silence as applause rolls through.
Some of the older women dab tears and hug each other.
Their welcoming – and the noise along with it – is surely enough to vibrate the entire continent.
Arch Gerard, at the top of the dais, drags his hand across his own throat and raises it to the skylight in blessing.
As the doors shut behind us and the cheering filters out, my mind can only focus on this moment. What it means, what it could mean. A leap of faith, literally.
“I thought you would not attend,” he says, setting the sceptre down. The blood orb was left for Arch Gerard on a red pillow. I walk to the window that overlooks the grove beyond the temple as the fading daylight darkens the sky.
“But I did,” I reply.
“Why?” I move to the window adjacent. Outside the temple, children run around the grove, chasing one another with the occasional failed sprint into an oak tree.
“How no one noticed your presence before, I do not know. It would be impossible to miss the beauty and force of –” his eyes flick over to mine – “you.”
The blue light upon the trees is serene and I have to quell any and all of my anxieties. “It was different, special, seeing you in there.”
Cedric leans onto the sill and turns to face me.
“By definition, by whatever we believe, I am darkness incarnate. My strength knows no end, my power knows no weakness, my will knows no distraction. I am the blessed son, something that Gerard never lets me forget – that I am responsible for carrying out the sire line with an heir.”
My nose scrunches. “You believe that?”