“Come, child.” The empress swept to my side and, gripping my arm, hauled me to my feet. I staggered against her, but she ignored me, and together we crossed the stage. The sedative dragging on my muscles and consciousness, my legs shook with every step. Reaching the altar, I stepped over the runes into the middle of the circle. Lilitha released me, and I collapsed in an undignified heap, knocking into Ryker.
“Sorry,” I rasped, struggling to sit up. Metal clanked, and firm hands gripped my shoulders, righting me. Ryker’s face loomed before me and heat brushed my skin as I searched his gaze. There was no concern there, nor hate, nor anything. Just a blank stare. He pulled away.
What are you doing here? Why did you come back?I had so many questions, but staring up into his impassive face, I received my answer. Ryker wasn’t stupid. He’d returned for a reason, and he’d let himself get caught. He had a plan, and the empress, full of pride at her own victory, was too blind to see she was playing right into it.
I ducked my head to hide my smile. Even if it meant my death, I couldn’t wait to see him finish what he’d started one month ago.
31
The Ascension
Ishouldhavebeennervous about the idea of being bonded to someone I hardly knew, but what did it matter? From the position of the moon through the crystal skylight, I’d be dead within the hour, and if I didn’t go along with it, my sister would die. Not to mention the thought of being bonded to Ryker made my heart race. Even if I’d been given a choice in the matter, I wasn’t sure I’d decline.
Still weak, and barely able to sit up straight, I slumped next to the altar, peering out of the corner of my eye. In my grainy vision, Ryker knelt unmoving and statuesque beside me, his breaths steady and even. I had nothing to be afraid of, but even if he no longer hated me or wanted me dead, wasn’t he the least bit worried about being blood bonded to someone his people despised? If he was going to do something before being stuck with me forever, he’d better do it soon. Unless being bonded to me was just a means to an end—my end included.
Soft footsteps shuffled across the stage behind me. The high priestess strode around the altar, her face and hair covered completely by a silk veil that complimented her white habit. One of my sisters in a matching veil and habit flanked her, carrying a ceremonial wooden tray. Behind the priestess, the lights dimmed, plunging the reverent patrons into an abyss of blackness and leaving the stage as the sole object of focus.
The empress watched on, stone faced from her place at the center throne, Cassie slumped in the seat beside her. I started when I found my sister’s vivid blue eyes open and staring at me, confusion and horror slowly etching themselves across her gaunt face. She was awake!
“Ahem.” The high priestess stepped forward, drawing my attention back. She placed two golden chalices on the altar, then gestured to her entourage. The girl joined her and removed two objects from the tray she held, placing them beside the cups. A swath of golden silk, and a delicate, silver knife with a diamond encrusted hilt. My stomach churned.
Shifting on the pillow where I knelt, I glanced furtively at Ryker. He hadn’t moved, and though I knew he could see me looking at him, he didn’t look back, just stared straight ahead. Was he really going to go along with this?
“Before the eyes of the Great Creators,” the high priestess raised her voice and lifted her hands, the large sleeves of her habit flaring around her like wings. “May we all bear witness today to the joining of these two individuals—our beloved Princess Kaleah, who will Ascend this night, to the Outlander, Ryker.” Her voice rang out, and she lowered her hands. “Let this union be not in word alone, but sealed by blood, that they be bonded not only in this life, but the next as well.”
The priestess reached across the altar. “Hands please.”
Metal clanked as Ryker lifted his right hand and placed it on the altar. Calling on what little strength I still possessed, I raised mine as well, my arm shaking with the effort. I dropped it on the altar, the world spinning.
Picking up the knife, the priestess presented it to Ryker. “Cut along her palm, and pour her blood into one of the cups, but be careful, boy. One wrong move and you’ll die earlier than appointed.”
Ryker didn’t react other than to accept the knife. Still not looking at me, he reached out and took my right hand in his. My heart raced, wondering if it was both our ends, but instead of stabbing me with it like I almost assumed he would, he sliced the palm of my hand as if he were just whittling a piece of wood.
I bit back a hiss, pain and red blood pooling in my cupped hand. Ryker moved my hand over one chalice and tipped it to the side. The shallow cut didn't bleed long, and when blood no longer dripped from my hand, he laid it back down on the altar.
“Good. Now your turn, Princess,” the priestess intoned, nodding toward the knife. My head swimming, I focused on the weapon, still glistening with my blood. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my still shaking hand and tried to pick up the knife. I managed to lift it, but a heartbeat later, it slipped from my bloody fingers, clattering back to the altar.
“I can’t,” I whispered, heat burning my face. I gasped in short breaths, the sedative leeching my strength. Ryker picked up the knife, placing it back in my hand. His fist curled around my fingers, closing them around the hilt and bringing it parallel to his outstretched hand.
What was he doing? I stared. Andwhy? I didn’t mind being bonded to Ryker, and in another life, could have even wished for it, but why would he choose to let himself be bonded to me? To someone he didn’t love? My assassin was a fighter, so why wasn’t he fighting? I watched helplessly as he guided the knife over his palm. Blood welled up instantly, and he poured it into the empty cup until the blood slowed and he sat the knife down beside it.
“Hold out your hands,” the priestess commanded.
Seeming to understand I was too weak to do much of anything for myself, he raised both of ours, resting mine in his on the altar. His expression didn’t change, but his action spoke volumes and feathers danced in my churning stomach.
The high priestess took the knife and dipped it into the cup Ryker had just poured his blood into. Lifting it over my still oozing palm and pressing the tip to my skin, she etched three symbols into my palm. I flinched, but Ryker’s hand moved down, tightening around my wrist and keeping me steady.
Just as with my sister’s bonding, the symbols she’d created began to glow faintly. The blood from the knife absorbed into the earlier wound in my palm. When the glowing runes faded, the high priestess moved to Ryker’s hand, repeating the process with my blood. Finished, she took both of our bloodied hands and put them together. Ryker’s fingers coiled through mine, keeping my hand in place. I had no strength left.
With swift, efficient movements, she wrapped the gold silk around our joined hands. Taking the two chalices, she combined them in one and returned the knife to the mixed blood. Raising her hands, she started chanting words in the divine language I’d spoken only a few days earlier.
Continuing her chanting, the high priestess lowered the knife, and touching the tip to the silken cords, etched one last symbol. “The ceremony is almost complete,” the high priestess paused, bowing low. “You may now seal the bond with a kiss.”
Ryker stiffened, and my breath hitched in my throat. Kiss him? I’d wanted to last week, and yet, my eyes darting to the shadowed crowd and our surrounding audience, my heart fell. I did want to kiss him, but not like this.
Seeming to get over whatever qualms he’d had, Ryker took my chin in his hand, lifting my face. He leaned in, and at first I thought he was going to kiss me, but he leaned too far, his lips brushing my ear instead.
“Trust me,” he breathed out, pulling back just far enough to meet my gaze. Staring into his gold eyes—eyes that had once held such hatred—they shimmered in the moonlight, determined and ready.