The priests parted.
Dante’s eyes found mine as he stalked toward me as if panic fueled him. Relief flooded through me when he took my hand, threading our fingers together, the air thick with incense and expectation.
“In the beginning, there was chaos,” Emilia intoned. “Our kind tore this city apart. It was the DiRavello who offered order. The Draconi who enforced it. The Demente who watched from the shadows, the DiSangue who sanctified, and the Dominico who ruled.”
As she spoke, my mind supplied the details she left out. The backroom deals. The betrayals. The families purged from history when they’d defied the Compact. The smoke from hundreds of pyres rolling over the lagoon when a line was erased.
“Tonight, we weave a new thread into the tapestry,” Emilia announced. “A daughter of DiRavello. A son of Dominico. Their union strengthens the pillar of rule, theirblood, mingled, reinforces the ancient bond that binds us together.”
She produced a slender silver blade from her sleeve, candlelight sliding along its keen edge. Dante’s grip on me tightened, his thumb pressed over my skittering pulse.
“Do you accept this male as yours, Emberline?” Emilia asked. “Do you vow to uphold the needs of the Dynasty above your own desires?”
My throat tightened. It would be so easy to lie.
But the High Priestess of the DiSangue could smell a false vow like rot.
And that was the test.
That was why we were here to test our resolve. And if I was anything, it was committed to finding my father’s killer. And the way to do that was to complete this ritual and convince Emilia that I was worthy.
“I do,” I vowed, the words tasting of iron. “I will serve this Dynasty until the end.”
Emilia’s eyes flashed, “And you, Dante?” she asked. “Do you accept this female as yours, Lord Dominico? Do you vow to uphold the Compact, despite… your past disagreements with the hand that holds your leash?”
Dante smiled, slow and razor-edged. “I accept nothing, but I will uphold the laws of the Dynasty.” His eyes never left mine. “As far as the rest… yes, I take her to bemine.”
Emilia’s smile sharpened into something almost savage. “Very well.”
She slid the blade across my palm first, a quick, precise cut that sent a familiar hot flare of pain up my arm. Blood welled, dark and rich, dripping into the silver bowl with a soft patter. Then she turned to Dante, repeating the motion.
Our blood mixed as each droplet fell, splashing into the silver bowl, a sea of red that swirled together, the air aroundus charged and glowing, priests swaying as they chanted. The tattoos on their throats glowed as well, crimson light flashing, the curved ceiling magnifying the sound until I could barely think around the din.
The magic in the room shifted.
Emilia’s dark power changed to something seductive, a slithering darkness that slipped through flesh and bone, like a song stuck on repeat, suffused with ancient power.
Candles extinguished, and I was in the dark, surrounded by a sea of glowing red sigils, anchored only by Dante’s hand, and the place where our fingers wove together felt like the only solid thing in the world.
My heart thundered, and Dante’s beat at the same rhythm, even our breathing in sync.
I’d never felt as perfectly aligned with anyone in my life.
A slender ribbon of blood rose out of the bowl, twining around our wrists, threading between our fingers. Binding us together in bands of crimson, warm and wet, and so, so strange, the waythisseemed like the right way to be married.
I found Dante staring down at me, that pulsing light reflected in his ocean-blue eyes.
In that moment, besides this feeling of rightness, something settled deep inside me.
Purpose.
“The magic deems you both worthy of each other and of serving the Dynasty,” Emilia proclaimed, sliding her knife away and raising her hands. “The ancient forces have spoken; this marriage is recognized not only by the Council, but by the gods themselves. The wolf and the swan have become one.”
The entire room exhaled, no one more relieved than methat somehow, we’d managed to fool not only the High Priestess, but the magic itself.
Candles ignited, and the circle of priests melted away.
Applause rose, polite and perfunctory, a smattering of gloved hands and half-hearted toasts.
