Page 9
A collective rush of approvals and delight echoes from the chamber, a reminder that we are very much on display. The priestess moves to Bellamy and presses a raven’s blade into his free hand. “This handfasting is yours now, Lord Erebus. You must cut each of your bound palms and bleed together. You will show the gods and the ravens and even the devil himself that her blood belongs to you. Now repeat these words as you complete the ritual.”
I hiss as he digs the dagger into my palm without care. Is that a slight flicker of amusement I see in his eyes?
“I, Bellamy Erebus, accept this union. I swear to allow her to serve me and only me. As my wife, Arkana Graves will have…”
A hush falls over the congregation as he falters in his words. He takes a deep breath, which I am envious of, and makes a deep cut into his own hand.
“As my wife,” he continues, “Arkana Graves will have entrance to my heart.” He locks his fingers through mine and squeezes. Blood drips down both our wrists. His voice drops to a low rasp, almost a growl. “Every piece of you belongs to me, my wife. Your heart, your soul, your essence, and your womb. Mors tua… vita mea.”
I wince as his grip tightens, causing my open wound to sting against his. One would think he had sulfur in his veins. The knot in my stomach grows. There is something not right about this man.
The priestess holds up our bleeding hands toward our guests. “These bindings shall not come off until the bedding ceremony tonight. Where they will seal this union with carnal offerings.”
My stomach shifts into my asshole.
“Now, as customary, I call upon the bride’s father for the unveiling. And the groom’s mother for the unmasking.” The priestess lowers our hands and pulls us back around to face each other again.
Bellamy grits his teeth as he glares at her. “I have no one.”
My breath hitches. If there’s no one to complete the ritual from his side, maybe there’s a chance I can get out of this.
The priestess’s eyes well with tears. “Forgive me for your loss, Lord Erebus… With authority, as the keeper of this church and of the goddess of death, I shall appoint Icarus Graves to fulfill both.”
My father nods, his smile deepening. He stands before me, fingers readied on the hem of my veil. “You did good, angel. I’m so proud of you.”
Damn… no turning back now.
“Thank you, Father,” I whisper. What I really want to do is beg him to stop this. To put me into his carriage and take me back home. Even the thought of having to live with Finnric for the rest of my life doesn’t seem so bad. But I’m a grown woman, and my father is a Nocturnus elder. There is no more time for childish things…
He lifts my veil and turns me toward my new husband. “In the winter of our melancholy, I reveal the reflection of your soul.”
Bellamy hisses. It’s subtle, but there is an undeniable shift in his breathing and a slight tremor in his fingers. He recovers well, though, his dark eyes almost black as he grinds his jaw.
My father rests his hands against the bronze mask now, as a stand-in for this man who has no family. “My new son, may you love as fiercely as I have. You will be a better man for it. I promise you that.”
Bellamy’s eyes flash with rage, then another flicker of amusement. “I am nobody’s son,” he murmurs.
My father falters slightly but doesn’t let on. He lifts the mask away from Bellamy’s face and stumbles back. “Wait… “
“Father?” I barely look upon Bellamy as my father clutches his chest.
My mother rushes to the altar. “Icarus? Are you all right?”
“What’s happening?” I cry.
My father stumbles forward, his skin as white as a ghost. He reaches for Bellamy and pulls back the lapel of his shirt. “Where… did you get this?”
The entire congregation is on their feet as a dozen Nocturnus initiates rush forward and surround the altar.
“Icarus, you’re scaring me,” my mother cries.
Bellamy pries his hand off him. “You’re unwell, my lord. Perhaps you should sit down.”
As he fumbles with the collar of his shirt, I notice a rope of twisted vines around his neck. Was that what my father was reaching for?
He collapses to his knees. “Arkana,” he rasps.
“We need a doctor,” Silas calls out.
