Page 126 of White Raven

“Move.” A grunt spoke in my ear, spreading a shiver down my back, the hooded figures prodding me forward to the slab. The drums mimicked the thunder in my chest, all eyes on me as Morrigan’s chant grew louder. Picking up a blade, the figure behind me clutched my arm, holding it out to the seeress. “Blood of the White Raven, guide us forward. Show us the future. The gifts of this union.”

Pain sliced over my palm, the tip of the blade cutting through the skin. A gasp hitched up my throat, and I flinched as blood trailed down my hand, splattering over the runes in the bowl.

“Blood of the White Raven, reveal your powers to the gods! Giving dominion to the rightful ruler!” Morrigan swirled the bowl of runes, coating each of them with my blood. Silence claimed the space, anticipation holding in a breath. She let them fall over the altar, scattering across the surface.

“This can’t be.” Morrigan muttered, her head snapping to me in fear and confusion, almost accusatory.

“What? What do they say?” The king eagerly rose from his seat.

“Let me try again, my lord.” She gathered them up into a bowl before he could see them. She hummed and chanted, mixing them again, her shoulders tense as she released the runes.

Bile scorched the back of my throat. Once again, all were turned down.

Blank.

“What is this?” Gavric frowned, his voice tight. “What does this mean?”

“I—I don’t know, my lord.” She stumbled over her words, but her narrowed eyes were on me. Suspicion calculated in her light irises.

“You fool!” he barked. “You did something wrong! Do it again!”

“Majesty, I⁠—”

“Do it again!” he bellowed, his face turning red, feeling all attention on him, the murmuring in the crowd buzzing louder.

“Maybe the gods seek your blood with hers.” Morrigan bowed her head, scooping up the runes into the bowl. “It will help center our intent.”

“Yes, fine,” he snapped, holding out his hand. The blade shook in her grip as she cut into his palm, his blood dripping and mixing with mine.

I hadn’t noticed the masked guard’s hand still pressed to my lower back until it balled up into my smock, emanating anger against my spine, a small growl only I could hear.

“Huginn and Muninn, please guide our future as the messengers of the realm. Confirm the king’s future, leading us all into a better empire.” Morrigan took a deep breath. Time slowed as she scattered them over the table, the stones bouncing and skidding, finally stopping on their resting place.

All were blank, except one, his blood coating the rune.

“Isa.” Morrigan muttered. “The rune for ice, symbolizing danger and impediment.”

“What?” King Helvig’s voice strangled, his feet stirring. “What impediment?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“You are fucking useless! Do it again. You did it wrong.”

“That’s not how⁠—”

He seized her throat, a choking sound coming from her.

“I. Said. Again,” he seethed into her face, shoving her back into the table.

“Of course, my liege,” she wheezed, biting back her cry of pain. She cupped the jar, repeating her actions, asking a similar question.

The runes were tossed out.

All blank but one.

His hand whipped out, slapping Morrigan across the face, the crack ricocheting off the glass mirrors, repeating the action as though a thousand hands had hit her, dropping her to the floor with a cry.

“Put her here!” he ordered the men holding me, motioning at the altar. Hands seized me as the other man tied leather straps to each corner.