Page 70 of Ashborne Phoenix

‘I’m here. I can see you.’

He sent an image that flickered somewhat, but was clearly me, entering the chamber through those massive doors, on the arm of his mother.

His feelings in the bond were complicated—I felt his rush of love for me. But it mingled with fear and frustration, and a tension that made my teeth clench. I sent him what reassurance I could conjure, and walked slowly at his mother’s side, attempting to ignore all the avid eyes following our progress.

He wasn’t alone in the tension. The room felt oppressive. Everyone leaning closer, barely even whispering among themselves.

Or was it only that I knew this time that they were all Cruors? Last time, I’d recognized so many faces, I’d just assumed it was the Court gathered for audience with the king. But now I knew. Every soul in this room was part of an evil flock—the Fold, they called themselves. And they all watched, fascinated, because they believed that Breckon and I would be bonded by magik tonight.

For myself, the moment felt strange. Unreal. It was the same chamber, the same faces. More light because it was earlier in the evening and there was still twilight filtering through the tall windows, rather than firelight.

But the veil shrouded everything in a haze, as if I were dreaming. Reliving a memory in the recesses of my mind.

I didn’t know if it was the veil or my thudding heart that muffled the sound. But everything in the room felt muted—even our heeled footsteps on the checkered marble.

Then we approached that thickly carpeted dais again. The queen’s expression seemed colder this time. And the king’s more wary. Still, both royals sat in their golden thrones, regal and proud as the audience bowed for our passing—which I didn’t understand. Surely the bowing should be for the king?

I risked a look to the side, in case I could find Voski in the crowd. But I couldn’t pick him out in the few glances I could risk.

Then the Royal Crier stepped out of the shadows behind the king and raised his chin.

“All honor! All honor this eve! By will of King Burken of Fyrehold, before his throne and assembled Court, comes the Lord Rupert of the House of Breckon, and his chosen Lady Grace of the House of Barnslow, betrothed, each one to the other by the oldest law, written in flame and stone.

“Let Crown and Kingdom bear witness, they come! Supplicants to the Throne, heirs of ancient blood. Let record and writ forever say, they stand on this day before Your Majesty, begging grace and blessing, to give testimony of their intended union, to be seen, to be known, in the old accounting.”

A strange prickling raised the hair on my arms as we reached the dais and Breckon bowed, while I curtseyed and those ancient words echoed in the chamber once more.

“Sire! Sovereign! Defender of this Realm! Who speaks the written law, who upholds the word of law, ruler of what lies above the soil, and of that which lies beneath. Let your hand of blessing lie upon your servants. Let your heart of mercy usher them. And let any who would stand in defiance hear and tremble: The old blood lives! The ancient honor lives! The power of the blood sings in the throne!

“By custom as old as the throne, as old as the blood, your servants ask leave to bind this union!”

The rustling of skirts and low rumble of shifting feet meant the attending Court had risen from their bows and curtsies as we did. I straightened, raising my chin, my heart pounding, expecting to be addressed by the king.

But Breckon turned toward me, and when I faced him—as it was clear that’s what he’d expected—he reached for the veil, though only lifted it far enough to uncover my hands, then he took them and turned me to face him.

My skin crawled at his touch. But the collective exhale around the room startled me.

Breckon smiled and squeezed my hands, nodding to the thrones as if to present us to the king. But his eyes gleamed as he looked down on me.

When the king stood, Breckon grasped my fingers so tightly, my knuckles ground together. His smile was tight over gritted teeth. My blood ran cold.

“Lend your ears, Cruors! Lend your eyes! You stand witness this night. Bear witness, then, to the binding words. Here before you are Lord and Lady, He and She, two veins to pump from one heart. Join me, Cruors! Let us make assurance to the circle, and to the gods, that these take no other!”

I didn’t understand the nuance of the pompous words, but it was clear the people watching had been waiting for this call, because the moment the king closed his mouth, they responded.

“We watch! We hear! We bear witness to the binding!”

Then the king turned to Breckon and addressed him individually. “Lord Rupert Breckon, by my crown and throne, I urge you, offer your covenant vows!”

I sucked in—covenant vows? Weren’t those the wedding vows? ‘Voski, what—?’

‘Just follow as instructed.’ His voice was short, perfunctory in my head. Nothing reached me in the bond.

‘Are you here, hearing this? Covenant vows are wedding vows, aren’t they?’

‘Do everything they expect. If you aren’t sure what to say, repeat what I send you. Leave the rest to me.’

Breckon pulled me a short step closer. He smiled so smugly, my stomach flipped. But I kept my expression blank of anything but anticipation. Breckon was tense, but thrilled.