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I spotted the dark ring tattooed around her wrists and the black diamonds tattooed beside her ears: marks of a mage who’d chosen to become a slave of the king, bound by enchantments to do his bidding.
The cold air in the vaulted space sliced through the remaining heat on my skin and I shivered. Or maybe it was just this woman’s presence.
She shot me a cunning look, as if aware of the way her presence affected me.
My heart rate quadrupled, and the fear I’d wrestled into submission this morning came bursting out again. I might die before the next bell chimed the hour. Desperate for a delay, for any reason not to follow this woman, I asked, “Can you tell me the name of the man I am to marry?”
Instead of answering, she shooed me away from the front doors, off to a side chapel crammed with a golden box and about a hundred lit candles. Above the candles, engraved on the wall, was a picture of the king, a man who, despite his youthful appearance, was older than anyone else living. His crown glowed in the candlelight.
I was no longer certain who or what this temple was meant to honor.
The woman opened a door, shoving me through it and into a narrow, tiled hallway. She then led me to a small chamber with yet another altar. It was almost cozy in here with a small rug, a single painting, and the warm glow of six candles.
But upon closer inspection, this room fed me an eerie chill.
The rug was threadbare in two small places right before the altar, presumably from someone kneeling. The candlelight flickered off mostly bare stone walls that reminded me of the flames outside the Westburg prison.
A single ring of metal, large enough to fit my head, lay on the altar.
My heart rattled against my ribs like a panicked animal.
“Wait here, dear.”
The woman shoved my shoulder, and I stumbled toward the altar. One of my mother’s too-large slippers stayed on the floor behind me. She’d insisted I wear them. They were nicer than my everyday shoes.
“Where’s Archer?”
The woman merely lifted her brows and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
Trembling, I scooted my foot into the lost slipper and backed away from the altar. When a fire mage graduated from the academy, their final test was to ignite a ring of metal and place it on their wrist. This was how they proved their learning, their mastery. The fire mage wedding ceremony featured the man igniting a ring of metal, then placing it on his bride’s head.
I’d never seen one of these placed on the head or wrist of someone not immune to flame.
My hands reached up to touch my hair. A quick glance showed me this was more like a prison cell than a bridal room for wedding ceremonies. No furniture, save the altar, and nothing soft, save the threadbare rug.
Mother had always harbored hope that I’d have enough fire mage blood in me to make me useful to the Guild, but attempting to force me to do magic I couldn’t do wouldn’t grant her wish. Panic rising, I leaned against the wall, the fabric of my cloak sticking to the rough, cool stones.
The door swung open, and a man stepped inside, followed by the large woman who’d led me here, and finally, my mother.
The man wore a black robe trimmed with red, the ceremonial attire for male fire mages. His top hat boasted a red band and the unmistakable emblem of a fire mage: a split flame with a ring around it. The way he moved and the way the red underside of his cloak flashed in and out of view gave him a sinister look—like some wicked circus master who had come to claim me.
His face was lined and his beard peppered with gray. He was handsome in a way, but I nearly gagged.
After appraising me for a single breath, he walked toward the altar, grabbed the iron ring, and swung it toward me, holding it out at arm’s length.
“Light it on fire, and I will marry you.”
My eyes bulged as I realized the moment had come.
3
My mother nodded firmly, a warning look in her eyes, then tossed a nervous glance at the woman who’d entered behind my groom. The mage squared her shoulders and clasped her hands in front of her ample waist, chin lifted like she was watching a student evaluation. A jolt shook me. She was sent here by the Guild. They’d found out I was getting married after all, a quarter mage with either mind or fire magic, and they’d sent a witness.
My mouth opened and my eyes fixed on the metal ring. Usually, the man lit it on fire first.
No words came out, no sound, only a wisp of breath. I’d meant to say a proper goodbye to Archer and Danny. I swallowed. I’d assumed they’d be here to watch, but I could see why they weren’t. In case things…ended poorly.
The fire mage looked back at my mother. “She can do this, yes? I paid for a woman who can bear children for me. I’m not making the same mistake again.”
