Griffin cut his eyes to the man. “Because.” How did he explain he was the only of her men that wasn’t actively being searched for? That if the others were found, the High Priestess would whisk them away. That he needed Julian by her side in case he was killed. That if any other man attempted to stake claim on her, there would be a possibility of an escape from the Isles.
“Raven, we can ask more questions later. I don’t trust him either, but from what I know of these countries, this is the best option,” Julian placated.
Griffin’s annoyance spiked.
You’re just happy to be by her side.
He kept his displeasure to himself, guiding them down the spiral stairs. On the ground floor, he held them in place for four measured beats before turning left and striding toward the floor-to-ceiling, hand-carved double doors. Each door bore a griffin’s head as its handle, staring outward like silent guardians.
Two men flanked the doors, pulling them open with deliberate precision, while a third’s voice echoed through the hall, announcing their arrival.
The light in the great hall was dimmed, lending a tranquil glow, yet at the apex of attention, it fell on them like a spotlight.
Everyone seemingly froze, even the band stopped playing as silence echoed loudly in Griffin’s ears.
He marched forward, his head held high as he led Raven and Julian across the space. A path cleared for them as the attendees backed away to allow their passage. He did not stop until he stood before his brother.
Drago was on a stage a few feet off of the ground, a throne behind him. A replica of the one in the throne room. A reminder of his position.
Griffin offered a half bow, squeezing Raven’s hand to do the same as she and Julian followed suit.
“What a marvelous occasion! My brother, your prince, has returned! He was mistakenly forced into the Redemption, but he has come out victorious and with his future cherished wife!” Drago opened his arms wide, the crown on his head titling as he leaned back.
Loud whispers echoed around the room, but Griffin paid them no mind.
“Raise your head, brother. Take your rightful spot up here with me.”
Griffin did as told, walking to the steps and helping both Julian and Raven up them before following behind. He took the empty space next to his brother.
Clearing his throat, he used an authoritative tone as he regarded the masses before him. It was all men, save for the High Priestess who stood in the corner, her eyes narrowed in visible anger, even through the lace mask she wore.
“Her name is Raven. She was irresponsibly placed in the Redemption Games, and as you all witnessed, she is a Sacred Cherished with a natural-born daughter,” Griffin began. “I have staked my claim. She will be my wife.”
There was a soft whispering, but it was, of course, the High Priestess who spoke up. “Who is her child’s father? Surely he will stake his claim.”
“He was player 58, another citizen of Violencia, and I am higher ranked, therefore he does not have any claim to her,” Griffin replied, the answer ready.
“Who is that man up there?” the High Priestess batted back at him.
Griffin gestured for Julian to approach. “This man has also staked his claim.”
Griffin could feel the happiness that exuded from the High Priestess. “Then she will return with us after this party until you have settled who shall claim her. Or if this man even has a right to her.”
“We have come to an agreement already.” Griffin looked at all the men in the crowd. “For too long we have placed one SacredCherished with one man. It has forced us to remain unwed and without the possibility of children. But what if we change that? What if…” Griffin tugged Raven and Julian to him, wrapping an arm around each. “What if we shared the women? I propose that she will marry us both. We both have a claim on her, and we have come to this agreement together.”
The noise buzzed to life, the crowd arguing amongst themselves.
“Silence!” the High Priestess snapped, marching to the stage. She craned her head up.
Griffin could feel her rage, even from here.
Before she could speak, Drago cut in. “And she is pregnant.”
Griffin stiffened, his fingers digging into both Raven and Julian’s shoulders.
The High Priestess shut her mouth and glared up in silence for a few beats before speaking. When she did, her voice was calm. Her eerie eyes alight in humor. “I see. A soul sent from above. A gift of which I will never question. I must return to the Isles. We will prepare for the wedding ceremony in three weeks’ time.” The High Priestess spun, marching towards the exit, a crowdof priests following her in silence, their robes whipping at their ankles. She paused halfway out the door. “If she loses her child, mark it as a bad omen. A mistake. Acrime.And thus we must bring her back to the Isles.” And then she was gone.
Raven isn’t pregnant.
