Valentina squeezes my arm. "Breathe through your nose."
I drag in one deep breath through my nose. The wood presses so tightly between my teeth that my jaw aches. I lock my gaze on the flames beyond the cauldron as pain detonates up my arm, white-hot and blinding.
The skull gets pressed harder.
My muffled roar bursts past the wood. My knees threaten to buckle. My vision explodes into black-and-red spots. Nothing exists exceptheat and pressure and the knowledge that a piece of metal is carving a dead man's legacy into my body.
"Good job," Valentina praises, and I realize the pressure lifted.
Cold rushes over the brand a second later as someone smears an ointment or salve across it, trying to temper the damage.
It doesn't help much.
My hand throbs with a deep, pulsing pain that syncs with my heartbeat. Every ache is a reminder.
You're theirs now.
Marked as part of their cult.
There was no choice.
That's a lie.
I spit the wood out of my mouth and bend slightly, sucking in air. Sweat drips down my temples and neck. I force myself to straighten, to look at what they did.
Through the clear, glistening ointment, the skin on the side of my hand is angry, charred, and already blistering. Yet, the skull image is clear.
"Zaii'venar…zaii'venar…zaii'venar…" the crowd chants.
The hair on my arms rises.
Valentina shifts next to me with a small tremor in her bottom lip. The scarlet V still gleams on her chest, with the gold chains lying heavy on her shoulders. She stares at the judges.
"What now?" I ask.
She doesn't look at me.
A new realization makes my toes curl.
The Omni just got what they wanted from me.
Now they're coming for her.
"Take your place," the judge orders.
Valentina steps forward.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
She continues not to look at me.
The woman wearing the chains appears again. She unhooks the gold links and lifts the leather V away from Valentina's chest.
"About time. Let's go," I order, grabbing Valentina's hand.
She squeezes her eyes shut and releases a heavy breath, shoulders rising and falling in a slow, resigned rhythm.
"Step away from her," a judge orders.
