There were gasps and shouts from the crowd, the people excited about even a minute chance of healing.
“Now, it’s not a permanent solution, and not one everyone will be able to receive—we are short Vessels, after all—but we will do our best to make sure that every Mage has the opportunity at this new Bond. Which is why we have opened Vessel sign-ups! If you are interested in becoming a Vessel for one of our sick Mages so they can heal and return to the frontlines in our fight against the Keeper and her rebels, please see one of the Mages stationed around the square.” Small fires lit in the air above each of the Mage’s heads, indicating their locations.
There was some movement in the crowd as a few people moved to these spots, intent on putting their name on the list before even seeing the ritual.
“We will perform as many of these Bonds today as possible but will be calling others to Vespera throughout the next few weeks to receive their own Bonds. Thank you, again, for your support in our war against the Keepers!” With one final wave, Lord d’Refan stepped aside and sat in a chair at the far end of the platform.
A Mage from the line at the side stepped up to the table where Fay stood, and she gestured for him to lay down. She asked him a few questions abouthis symptoms and magic—her voice also magnified by the Air Mage—before gesturing for a Vessel.
The Vessel—a girl in her early twenties—was brought to the stage, and she was laid down next to the Mage on the large table. Fay asked the girl a few questions as well and went over what would happen and the possible side effects, admitting that she’d only done this once before, and the side effects were mild, but anything was still possible.
The girl’s face paled a bit, and it looked as if she was trying to leave the table, but a second Mage was there, pressing her shoulder down. The girl shook as Fay made a quick cut on the girl’s left forearm before dipping her finger in her blood and tracing a pattern on the Mage’s right arm. She repeated the same process with the Mage’s blood on the girl’s arm, before swiftly cutting her own arm and using her own blood to trace over the patterns on each of their skin.
There was a gasp from the girl on the table and a small cry before the Air Mage cut off the sound projection. The girl started to shake and convulse before passing out. The Mage, now the girl’s Bonded, seemed relatively unaffected, if a bit pale. He sat up and looked quickly at the girl to his left before focusing back on Fay as she gave him what appeared to be instructions.
The Mage nodded before scooping up the girl’s unconscious form and making his way slowly to the abandoned temple. An acolyte met him at the doors and led him inside.
They must have a recovery room set up in there.
Lord d’Refan stood as Fay cleaned the table, preparing for another Bond.
“The first Bond!” he shouted, and his exclamation was met with shouts and claps.
Instead of watching the crowd, though, I kept my gaze trained on Fay. Her brow was furrowed, and she was muttering to herself as she studied the drawing in her book. The cut on her arm was still flowing freely, and drops of blood were spattering down her dress.
I guess the black makes sense now.
She ran her hand through her curls, tugging them absently, her gaze unfocused.
The General tried to ask a question, but she just shook her head, chewing her lip slightly.
Another Mage and Vessel were ushered onto the stage, and the ceremony was repeated. Each time, Fay’s brow lowered further and her movements grew jerkier.
Something was wrong.
Eventually, after nearly two hours of continuous work, she motioned to the General and he nodded his head. The General strode to Lord d’Refan and bent to whisper something in his ear. Lord d’Refan looked at Fay before nodding his head and saying something to the Mage at the back of the platform.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this will be our last ceremony of the day.” There was a ripple of disappointment in the crowd at his announcement.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Peytor had yet to be called to the stage, and there were still plenty of Vessels to go ahead of him.
Maybe we overthought what would happen.
“But we have a very special ceremony next.” Excitement replaced the crowd’s previous disappointment, and Lord d’Refan shot a quick serpentine smile toward our box. I saw my parents shift uneasily at his perusal and my heart rate increased.
A Mage from the line sat on the table, waiting for his Vessel to appear, and my whole body stiffened when I saw who was to be his Vessel.
Peytor was led by two Mages up to the stage, a look of pure torture and defiance on his face.
No.
I gasped and leaned forward in my chair, but my mother snapped her head back at me.
“Sit down, Ellowyn. Donotdraw attention to yourself right now,” she hissed. Father didn’t even look at me, his gaze trained on Peytor.
Peytor stood straight, shaking off the Mages holding onto his arms.
“Today your very own Lord’s son, the heir to Hestin, has chosen to show his allegiance to me and our cause by volunteering for a Bond.” The announcement was sharp, an undercurrent of warning present.
