Chapter 43
My nerves lay bare, and my heart fluttered in my chest as I studied Dion’s face. Nodding at him at last, signaling my consent despite an unpleasant sense of foreboding, I stepped aside and smoothed some imaginary creases out of my gown.
His chest expanded, deflated, and expanded again before his eyes caught mine as his body was already angling to the altar. Our connection broke after a small dark blade had appeared in his hand—not bigger than a kitchen knife—which he’d formed from magic.
Without hesitation, he lifted the sharp tool, and I yelped in shock as he opened a cut as long as my index finger right next to a major artery in his neck. Blood instantly leaked from the incision.
Calming my breath, I scanned his wound another time.
The laceration was dangerously close to his carotid, and only when he didn’t sway nor had rivers of blood gathering in a puddle at his feet did my twitching fingers slow their movement.
Relief replaced the spike of fear, and I jotted down a mental note to scold him later for choosing such a dangerous location for ritualistic self-mutilation.
As the prince stepped even closer to the altar, I shifted on my feet to be able to observe what he was doing. Not that his back wasn’t a sight to behold, but that shouldn’t be my primary focus here.
Coating the pads of his index and middle fingers in the fresh blood welling from his neck, he then brushed the bright red fluid over Kalag’s symbol etched into the altar.
Afterward, he repeated the motion twice, covering both Immaru’s and the nameless god of fate’s emblems in his blood before his voice filled the crypt, steady and without indecision.
“I, Dionadair Dorchadas Coroin De’An Scriosta, appeal to Kalag, god of battle and strength, to be my judge and witness.
I appeal to Immaru, goddess of all that lives, to be my judge and witness.
I appeal to the god of fate, whose name has been forgotten in the sands of time, to be my judge and witness. ”
My eyes widened as with every incantation, one of the bloody symbols lit, the first one crimson, the second blue, and the third purple.
Awe trickled down my spine as the air grew heavy with divine energy, and I froze.
The Triad had directed their attention to us, and my throat tightened in astonishment.
Could they read my thoughts? Gods, had my dress slipped in places? Was my hair still decent, or had the style fallen apart? Would they evaluate me?
Even Dion’s features shone with reverence as he fixed his gaze on the three spheres of light illuminating the crypt, painting the bright marble in their colors. “Thank you, Divine Triad, for casting your attention and consideration toward my endeavor.”
Dion and humble were two words I rarely associated with each other. But obviously, achieving this state wasn’t impossible for him—all it took was the presence of the three most powerful beings in both worlds. Easy to replicate. Not.
The prince turned to the crimson light. “Mighty Kalag, god of battle and strength, this night I, Dionadair, stand in front of Nayana—just like you once approached Immaru—full of hope and determination to prove myself worthy of her. I ask you to be my judge and, should you consider me worthy, my witness, as I declare my intent.”
Oh.
If I were Dion, I would be just as tense as he was. The Triad, especially Kalag, was one of the rare instances in which he accepted someone else’s superiority, and I assumed if he were assessed and deemed wanting, such an outcome could crush him.
I belatedly realized how much my heart hammered when the organ skipped several beats as the crimson light flickered, and the pressure gripping my chest only eased as a column roared up, illuminating the room in an eerie glow.
“Thank you, Kalag. I’m your humble servant.” Dion bowed his head in reverence before he straightened and angled his body to the left, facing the small blue glow.
“Gentle Immaru, goddess of all that lives, this night I, Dionadair, stand in front of Nayana, just like Kalag stood before you with hope and determination in his heart, and I ask you to be my judge and, should you consider me worthy, my witness as I declare my intent.”
This time, the glimmer flickered a few times before only darkness remained.
Slapping my hands over my mouth, I stared at the spot where I’d expected something other than just nothing, and when the blue light returned and formed a column as well, the sudden brightness blinded me for a moment.
Relief washed through me, and once my vision was restored, I noticed Dion exhaling. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead that he didn’t even bother to wipe away.
Was this so important to him? He appeared to be more stressed than I’d ever seen him before.
“I thank you, Immaru. I’m your humble servant.”
Dion bowed again, his handsome features painted with an awestruck expression mirroring my own.
But as he turned to the purple flicker of light in the middle, confusion stole some of his reverence. Because before he could mutter even one word, the glow transformed into a pillar of light, matching the other two.
Was this bad? Normal?
A small pang of pain shot through my lower lip, and I forced myself to stop biting myself before I’d start to bleed.
Dion stood still as a statue, his breath shallow, as a disembodied voice filled the crypt, coming from all directions all at once, rich and oddly familiar but unfamiliar at the same time, chilling me to the bone.
“Fate judged you worthy and will witness, as Kalag and Immaru will, children.”
My throat rivaled the Restless Desert in dryness as the voice reverberated through my entire being.
Dion regained his bearings first and bowed to the purple light column. His brows were drawn together, and he pressed his lips so tightly together they appeared colorless.
I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that a god had not only announced their presence but also cast their voice to us.
While it wasn’t completely unheard of for Kalag or Immaru to relay spoken proclamations to worshipers once or twice in a hundred winters, no one, not even the most obnoxious part of the clergy, had ever claimed to have received a personal message from the fates themselves.
Pulling my hand back from the wall, which I’d used to stabilize myself during the dizzy spell overcoming me, I shook my head, trying to clear my mind.
The Triad—all of them—had judged Dion and his quest worthy.
The lump in my throat was persistent as I swallowed around it. Still, the obstacle didn’t dislodge.
The gods were watching us. Could they tell I was on the verge of a panic attack? And although I worshiped the Triad like every good Ivreian citizen should, being directly monitored by them didn’t seem desirable.
Uneasiness paralyzed me as I was lost in my head, uncertain if I could reach the exit before divinity switched their attention from the fae prince—who could have warned me about the minor detail of the gods’ potential presence—further to me.
This was the state I was in as Dion fished for my hand and tugged me to the altar, closer to the watchful eyes of the gods. Couldn’t he see that this was the last place I longed to be?
His gaze sought mine, gentle amethyst orbs staring into my cerulean ones, anchoring me in reality with their mere presence.
Painting small circles on my hand with his thumb, I realized Dion had noticed my unraveled state and was attempting his best to keep me grounded.
A fondness so deep crashed into my chest that I exhaled in surprise.
“Nayana.” But although he was steadying me, Dion’s voice sounded rough and shook a little.
“Dion?”
“On this night, I stand before you, heart and soul bared, with the Holy Triad as my judge and witness, fiercely wishing to prove my worth to you, to convince you that I can be everything you want, need, and more. In front of Kalag, I swear to keep all physical harm from you. In front of Immaru, I swear to protect your heart. And in front of fate, I swear always to shelter and nourish your soul. And so I ask you, under the gods’ watchful eyes, Nayana, will you accept my courtship and judge me on the journey of proving myself to you? ”
Like earlier on the balcony, I was all over the place. Only this time, I was all over the place in front of the gods.
I couldn’t deny that I was moved deep within. So I didn’t even consider my reply but nodded. “Yes, Dion, I’ll accept your courtship and grant you the chance you desire.” Remembering my manners, I added, “And I want to thank the Holy Triad for witnessing and judging you worthy.”
The warm smile blossoming on Dion’s face had my stomach in knots. The way his lips shaped themselves resulted in something strikingly bright and beautiful, and he appeared as if an entire mountain had crumbled from his chest. And that was before I noticed his dimples. Oh, these dimples.
He lifted my right hand, and with even more reverence in his posture than he’d shown the gods, he brought his lips down, touching my skin with lingering fire in its wake. “I thank you, Nayana, for granting me this chance.”
All of a sudden, the whole crypt was painted in exploding hues of crimson, blue, and purple lights that shot through the small room, and a gasp escaped my lungs.
As fast as the spectacle had occurred, the colors disappeared as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened—even the remnants of Dion’s blood on the altar had vanished, an archaic sacrifice to the most divine.
The cut on his neck had already healed a while ago.
Shaking, I stared at the prince, who was still clinging to my hand. “Was that—normal?”
“No, Nayana. Not a single description of this rite has ever mentioned even half of this, and—I have no clue if there’s a hidden meaning. So, there was quite a lot unusual.”
“Like?”