Fiona presses her hands around my wrists, grounding me. "You're allowed to be anxious, but you're not going to crumble. You're Finzia Valentina Abruzzo. I have witnessed you command the arena, be cut-throat in negotiations, and win in situations far more hostile than a cleansing ritual."
I mutter, "That is debatable."
Zara laughs under her breath. "It's not. You're a badass and you need to remember that."
My pulse kicks faster with each passing second. The air thickens as if warning me that once I walk out of this room, the Underworld will swallow me whole. The cleansing ritual has always been an imposing, half-mythical tradition from a distance. Standing on its threshold makes it something else entirely. It's more binding, permanent, and intimate than any vow I ever declared.
A brisk knock breaks through my spiraling thoughts. Fiona opens the door an inch, listens, then turns to me with a small nod. "It's time."
A cold prickle crawls up my spine. I close my eyes and take deep breaths.
Pull it together!
Zara takes my hands and squeezes them. "You're ready."
"You are! And soon you'll have your seat on the Royal Council," Fiona reminds me.
I slowly open my eyes. No part of me shares her confidence, yet the two of them flank me without hesitation, guiding me toward the hall. The guards posted outside dip their heads as if the dress alone demands reverence. The low hum of chanting bleeds through the stone walls. It vibrates through the air, the cadence steady and deep, almost ancient. The closer we get to the arena doors, the louder it becomes, expanding until the floor beneath my shoes thrums with the rhythm.
My breath grows shallow. I stop just before the entrance.
"Just…give me a second." I brace my palm against the cold stone, my gaze fixed on the thick wooden doors ahead of me. The chanting rises and falls in waves as raw, primal, and relentless as ever. It surges through my bones, rearranging the atmosphere around me until the corridor seems to pulse along with the crowd.
Fiona touches my elbow. "The longer you wait, the higher your nerves will spike. Walk in before your head starts inventing reasons not to."
She's right.
I swallow once, set my shoulders, and force myself forward.
A guard opens the doors, and a roar slams into me from thousands of voices chanting in unison, echoing into the moonlight. Women wear long white formal dresses and eye masks. Men are in tuxes and skull masks. Torches line every row, flickering enough to cast an eerie glow around the thousands of white lotuses, neatly placed in a huge circle. The heat mixes with the rhythmic shouting, gripping the edges of my lungs and tightening them.
People aren't simply watching. They're participating, feeding some invisible current that pulses through the air. It should be no different than any ritual or ceremony the Underworld conducts in the arena, but this time, everything feels exponentially extreme.
Zara and Fiona hug me one last time, then the chanting switches to low hums.
I pull away and walk through the crowd. A lifetime passes before I see Brax.
He stands near the edge of the ritual circle, a black tux framing the hard angles of his body with sinfully precise lines. The suit clings to his broad shoulders and powerful stance.
He's the only one not chanting. He's completely still, except for the slight rise of his chest and the dark, unblinking stare locked on me.
My pulse slams into my ribs. My insides shiver with anxiety.
His gaze drags over me, and the closer I get, the more I realize it's approval.
Everything is going to be fine,I tell myself.
I just have to get through this.
Heat rolls across my skin under the obsidian bodice.
He studies me with an intensity that coils through my stomach. It's a wordless promise threaded through his expression. A comfort that whatever this ritual demands, he intends to take control of the situation the moment it arises.
My steps carry me forward even as my heartbeat spikes. The skirt fans behind me in a fiery trail.
Brax tracks my movement, his jaw tightening, his mouth curving with a hunger that sends a sharp current between my ribs.
When I reach the steps leading to him, he takes a single step forward, and the air shifts.
