My mate knows exactly how to motivate me, because the next thing I know, I’m walking onto the stage with a renewed swagger, already planning how I want to collect her promise tonight.
“Are you able and willing to take the blood oath?” Anxo asks.
“I am.”
Satisfied with my answer, Anxo picks up the polished ceremonial dagger. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Hazel practically salivating at the weapon. I have to disguise my laugh by pretending to clear my throat.
The crowd murmurs in anticipation as Anxo and I stand on opposite sides of a table with a crystal bowl between us.
The only question on everyone’s mind is whether the Fates believe I’m worthy. Because if they don’t, this will be so fucking embarrassing. I haven’t been around for long, but I know in my bones that no one is more worthy of the War title than me.
Anxo gestures for my hand, and I brace myself for a deep cut across my palm. But to my surprise, he only makes a small nick on my index finger before guiding it over the War family ring proudly sitting in the center of the bowl.
One single drop of blood falls from my finger directly on top of the ring, and before my eyes, the ring completely absorbs it.
The ruby smoke inside the crystal ring comes to life, flaring like an unstoppable burst of fire. Scarlet floods the entire crystal, replacing every trace of white.
Anxo wipes the dagger with a neatly placed napkin on the table and takes my hand again. Carefully, trying his best not to dig any deeper than necessary, Anxo cuts a line on the index finger of my right hand, then turns my palm and mirrors the cut, forming a blood ring.
This isn’t how I remember the ceremony. This part of the process is supposed to be much bloodier… at least it was for the generation before us. I hear a few whispers complaining about the lack of brutality, and it confirms my theory.
This is yet another thing Anxo changed for the better.
At first, I didn’t understand why everyone followed Anxo so mindlessly, but over time, it became pretty clear. The man doesn’t have a single malicious bone in his body... unless you hurt someone he loves.
Anxo steps back and tells me to put the ring on, knowing full well he’d get the shock of his life if anyone but the destined successor touched it right now.
Here goes nothing…
Anxo smirks when the ring slides on my finger without electrocuting me, and demands my oath.
“Harvey Adler, son of Henry and Stella Adler, now mate to Grace Adler, do you solemnly swear to stay loyal to the Tetrad kingdom and rule with justice? Do you agree to servethe Sisters of Fate and defend your fellow Horsemen from all threats?”
“I do.”
The loose ring on my finger heats up until the crisscross veins holding the crystal tighten, fitting me perfectly. The ruby glows brightly as if approving my oath. Then the crystal clears once again, leaving red smoke swirling within… accepting me as its rightful bearer.
The pain that came next is not something I could’ve prepared for. I stumble from the gut-wrenching agony, but Anxo is immediately at my side, steadying me by the shoulders. He holds me upright instead of letting me collapse in front of the world, withering in pain.
When I raise my head, the pride on his face is unmistakable as his eyes trace my neck and arms. The pain slowly fades to a faint tingle, and I straighten up with newfound strength running through me.
It’s done. The Fates have marked me.
Every tattoo on my body has burned away, replaced by ancient red markings etched into my skin. Delicate swirls and cursive script tell a different story than my tattoos. Though the markings are in Latin, I understand what every word and symbol represents. This is my pain, my suffering, my strength.
My history paving a path for my destiny.
“It’s my absolute honor to introduce Harvey Alder, The Horseman of WAR!” Loud cheers fill the room, and above us, the glass ceiling lights up with fireworks.
For the next hour, I shake hands, smile, and thank people for their well-wishes. I’m ready to whisk Grace away because I know she’s exhausted, but the way her eyes linger on the dance floor full of longing, I figure one last dance won’t hurt.
“Dance with me, my Queen?”
“With pleasure, my Horseman.”
I can’t help but laugh when I spot Nevaeh on the dance floor, standing on top of Anxo’s shoes because she can’t dance for shit.
Just the other day, Anxo cleared his entire schedule when Nevaeh told him she was nervous about the formal dance. That day ended with her nearly in tears after she realized she had zero hand-eye coordination for anything other than butchering someone to death.
