A knock sounds at the door. “Miss Thornrose, the ceremony’s starting.”
I slip the lid back on. “What do you think?” Elmore’s gone white as a penguin’s stomach. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, Addie. Look, that?—”
The knocking comes again. “Miss Thornrose!”
“I’m coming!” I hoist the box into my arms. “Whatever it is, tell me when I get back. I’ll see you after the ceremony.”
“But Addi?—”
“Don’t wait up!”
And with that, I step into the hall, ready to nail this fire ceremony.
36
“You’ve got this,” Feylin whispers in my ear.
My hand’s sweating so much that I’m sure his palm’s drenched. But if it is, there’s no sign of it on his face. His mouth’s quirked as usual in a wry smile.
A smile I’ve come to love.
Before us sits a chunk of ebony bloodstone. Streaks of red mar the surface in an indecipherable pattern. The rock’s shaped like an egg except at the top, where it’s broken and jagged, resembling a crown.
Feylin gives my hand a squeeze and nods at the stone. It’s time.
I can feel everyone in the room holding their collective breaths. This ceremony’s the only one that doesn’t take place outside. It’s being performed in the same hall as the ball, and just as many people are in attendance, all of them hoping for a successful ceremony and to watch the exchanging of gifts.
I loosen the hold on my magic, and it slowly trickles out of me. I feel it crawl across the floor and lift to circle the stone, where it mingles with Feylin’s power, each of our magics circling the other in a powerful dance.
Ifeelmore than see the two powers spiral above the bloodstone, his power caressing mine, mine nipping at his, until their circles become so tight that they snap together like a magnet to a refrigerator. It’s only then that the power drops like a shooting star into the bloodstone.
One second passes, two, and then molten fire shoots from the crown like lava, roaring up to the ceiling.
The crowd erupts in applause. So does Feylin. He beams down at me. “See? I knew you could do it.”
A sigh of relief gushes out of me, and I clap too, more in awe and surprise than anything else. My skin, which had been jumping from nerves, slowly calms, and the tightness in my stomach relaxes.
Across the hall, Blair and Chelsea do fist pumps, which makes me giggle. Dozens of fae whom I recognize from earlier events, including Zandra, smile easier. It’s obvious that they can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel—that my relationship with Feylin isn’t doomed.
I admit that thought unties a knot of worry in me, too.
Feylin’s still smiling down at me as Trawick approaches, applauding, and nods to a table, where two boxed gifts sit—my blue one, and a rectangular red box that’s Feylin’s present to me.
A hush falls over the crowd as Trawick announces, “As many of you are aware, it’s after the third ceremony that the exchanging of the gifts takes place. My lady,” he says, gesturing with a flourish to the table, “you may present your token of affection to the king.”
King. I’ll never get used to hearing him called that, because Feylin doesn’t seem like a king. Yes, he seems like an exceptionally powerful man, but not a king. Maybe that’s because the humanity in him is obvious now, whereas when we first met, I was blinded to it.
I clear my throat and approach the table nervously. Allthese sets of eyes on me make me want to run for cover, but there’s no reason to be nervous. I’m just giving him a little gift is all. No big deal.
My hands tremble when I take the box and turn toward him, doing my best to forget that hundreds of people are watching what should be an intimate moment.
“For you.” He takes the box and looks down at me through thick lashes as I say, “I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I’ll love it.” He gives me a smile that’s just for me, which of course makes my heart ping-pong. Then he acknowledges his subjects and the wizarding community in attendance. “May all of you witness the opening of this gift.”
His gaze shifts back to mine, and my cheeks are so hot. My stomach’s fluttering as I cross my fingers, hoping Zandra was right about the book.
