“Don’t,” he whispers, his voice a lethal promise. “The ceremony is not over. You have a duty, Cosmo. You are aware of your role, are you not?”
I’m aware of his scrutiny, so quickly adjust my attitude. “That was an embarrassment,” I tell him as I watch guards drag Rory away, followed by a hobbling Crankshawe.
Beside me, Jordan lets out a small, annoyed huff, as if Aurora’s kidnapping and impending torture is nothing more than a social faux pas that’s ruining her big moment. Mother just stares at the empty space where her daughter was, blinking slowly before shrugging.
Across the room, I see Theo. Her eyes are no longer vacant. They are burning with a fire that matches the one in my gut.
—Cosmo…we destroy Janine…destroy the dark energy…then we get Aurora back…we won’t let that monster have her—
Father releases his grip, his expression settling back into the mask of the sophisticated Elite. Snapping his fingers, he orders the nearby servants to clean the mess of Crankshawe’s blood staining the dais.
Turning back to the room, his voice projects over the gossiping guests. “A minor family dispute. Nothing to disrupt the festivities. We proceed.”
I feel like I’m moving underwater. The orchestra strikes up Samuel Barber’sAdagio for Strings. The one thing I was allowed to choose for the ceremony. It’s appropriately funereal and miserable. The profound grief singing from stringedinstruments is perfect for the moment my soul is tethered to Jordan’s.
“Jordan,” my father commands.
She bounces forward and eagerly takes my hand. Alistair holds the ritual dagger and his manservant has a heavy silver chalice on a tray, ready to catch our blood.
“The Lock and Key,” Alistair intones, and for a moment, I see a swirl of dark smoke in his eyes.
He makes a shallow cut in Jordan’s palm, then mine. A feeling of pure revulsion sweeps over me as he presses our hands together over the chalice. My father is intoning the spellwork and I can feel the magic begin to bind me. Cold, dark energy starts at my wrist and begins to crawl up my arm like poison.
Oh Gods, I feel a deep, bone-deep panic start in my stomach.
—Cosmo—
I can’t pull my focus towards her voice.
—Dragon boy, look at me…please—
Finally, I pull my gaze away from the mingling blood and shift my gaze until I see Theodora. She’s staring at me intently, her silver eyes almost glowing.
—Focus on me, Cosmo…I’ve got you—
With everything I have, I wish that were true.
I want to weep.
And then.
A warmth.
My cold, cracked heart fills with heat. Beneath my skin my dragon flexes, almost like he’s preening. He senses it before I do.
Her magic. It’s taking the binding spell, wrapping it in a golden light, containing it. It is no longer seeping into my cells, twisting me into something I don’t want to be.
Instead, I see more clearly than ever, who I want to be.
A man worthy of a goddess.
Jordan gasps. Her eyes are rolled back slightly as she feels the magic take hold as she is successfully shackled to the idea of me. But on my end?
Nothing. Freer than the day I was born.
“It is done,” Alistair declares, raising our joined hands.
The room erupts into applause—genuine this time, the guests relieved to return to the script of a high-society engagement. Jordan throws her arms around my neck, squealing about how she can ‘already feel our souls touching.’
