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“We’ve been summoned. The Anguis have instructed us to bring in Foxglove Noire.”
Ky shifts a little. I hear him swear through his teeth.
Fuck. Whatever this is, it can’t be good.
Thorne continues to hold my gaze, and it feels like ice trickles straight down my spine. “Preparations for the Pledging ceremony have been moved to today.”
62
The elevator doors seal us in with smooth efficiency, commencing our descent.
Beside me stands the last person I ever wanted to bring to this hellhole. Foxglove stands in the middle of us, with tense shoulders, braced for whatever might face us once we emerge into the council chambers of the Anguis. I doubt her life growing up in the world of Noire House has prepared her for this moment.
Even I’m not entirely certain of what is to come.
That’s what has all of us on edge.
This summons from the Anguis was unexpected, to say the least. Perhaps more so because of the specific mention of her name. It left no uncertainty that we were required to present her this evening, and that has my pulse racing.
This is not part of the plan.
There is always a preparation before a Pledging ceremony, but this kind of urgent and unannounced ritual is stomach-churning, to say the least.
Dread eats its way through me and reaches sharpened claws for my throat.
Claiming her power and taking control of Noire House has been the intention right from the start. Only, now I’m finding myself tormented with the knowledge she might loathe me forever after this is all over.
If all I can do is keep her alive, that will have to be enough.
Do men like me deserve forgiveness after our souls have been irrevocably stained?
Right now, I’m not so sure.
The metal surface reflects back the warped image of the four of us, all dressed in black and wearing our skeletal masks. It’s a familiar sight, yet the fourth skull, flanked by the rest of us, shouldn’t be here. She should really be a million miles from these vile creatures.
The elevator slows before coming to a gliding halt. When the doors whoosh open, the long corridor stretches ahead of us in the usual darkened manner.
Down here, there’s no daylight, only small alcoves lit by wall sconces, and there’s always a lingering odor of ceremonial smoke and pungent incense.
I want to take her by the hand, but there are ways and customs that the Anguis set in place. For us to remain hidden amongst them, we have to go through the motions today.
No matter how painful that might be.
So we file along the corridor, me at the front followed by our girl, while Ven and Ky are shoulder to shoulder behind her.
The four of us enter the chamber, the space already filled with a handful of council members—far fewer than I expected to be here—who are seated behind their long tables around the hexagonal-shaped room. Most of the time, when Ky and I are present for their gatherings, we have our stations where we watch over proceedings from the perimeter. However, today, we will be at the heart of the events as they unfold for the first time.
Each of them wears a skull mask and blood-red, floor-length robes. Without looking closely, it is hard to distinguish one from another, particularly in the low lights scattered on the walls.
The air in the chamber is thick and oppressive.
There’s an onyx stone altar in the center of the room. One that I’ve witnessed in countless rituals and ceremonies and power-hungry dealings held here. Usually, it is adorned with a golden cloth and ritualistic ornaments. However, it has been cleared of the usual book of the Anguis and ceremonial tools that occupy the stone top.
Instead, it sits empty and polished, and the sight of the bare surface reminds me of exactly what act that ancient altar is used for during a Pledging ceremony.
“Foxglove Noire, the pleasure is all ours to have you join us today.” From among the seated members a man stands and crosses over to us.
As he draws near, my jaw clenches like a steel trap.
