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He quickly opened one of the panels, and a Votarist stepped into the tent, their hood hiding their features.

“Prince Callum Addis,” they said.

It wasn’t the same voice as yesterday nor this morning. I wordlessly held out my right hand. The Votarist pulled an unmarred acora feather from beneath their robes, pressing it into the center of the mark I’d received yesterday. I grunted as a wave of pain washed through my hand. The mark brightened from the green to a bloodred, and then the Votarist removed the quill.

They turned to Amethyst, and I gently pulled her arm from under the thick blanket, allowing the Votarist to do the same with her mark.

“Amethyst Webb,” they said as the quill pierced her skin.

She flinched but didn’t awaken. The Votarist immediately took the quill, still dripping with both our blood and wrote in a small book I hadn’t noticed them pull from their robes. A rush of air swirled around them, fluttering the hem of their robes, and the earth rumbled beneath me, the magic responding to the Rite binding Amethyst and me together in preparation for our validation ceremony. Vincent grunted behind me, feeling the earth’s response, too.

“Her sister has been tied to Jacob Armand of Senona,” the Votarist said, turning toward me, their face still hidden. “They will be notified at once of this pairing. If you have any more questions, any Votarist is honored to help.”

Senona. Praise Asher.

“Thank you, Honored,” I murmured.

They tucked the quill and book back under their robes, fast enough to not reveal whatever they wore beneath them. They turned for the tent’s entrance then paused before taking the single step down onto the pathway.

“Congratulations,” they said, their voice reverberating around me like when I received the mark, “and may you be blessed by Freia in this union.”

Reuben’s low voice pulled me from the slumber I’d accidentally sunk into.

“They’re ready to break bread,” he said.

I slowly lifted my head from the trunk, stretching my neck without opening my eyes.

“James, go grab his circlet, please,” Vincent said.

Footsteps quickly moved away from the tent. I tried to find the motivation to get up and join the others in celebration of completing the Rite, but it was fleeting at best. Instead, I leaned my head against her cot, letting the wooden frame cut into my temple and the subtle orange scent of her that had become more noticeable once the Votarist had left wash over me.

This was absurd. It had been less than a day, and we hadn’t even been able to have a true conversation—just a smattering of rushed sentences to convey important information and then her asking me if she was dying. And yet the idea of separating myself from her was enough to have a ball of worry weighing down my stomach and ruining the appetite I’d slowly been building throughout the day.

Reuben’s rough curse forced my eyes open. The tent had dropped into complete darkness, two fire jars hung from the bottom corners of the cots providing just enough light to function comfortably. The space was warmer than the fires themselves could provide. Phoebe must have redone her warming enchantment while I was asleep. Vincent sat beside me, his hands in his lap, his legs still crossed, a paragon for still attentiveness. Reuben sat at the edge of her cot, the blanket carefully pulled up to reveal the heavy bandaging covering her shattered leg. A large red stain was growing darker by the minute just below her knee.

I quickly got to my feet, ready to help him fix whatever had begun bleeding again. Reuben stood, too, walking around me to get something from his trunk. His eyes were worried, but his mouth was quick to curve into a small smile. He handed me a small bowl and then pulled a new set of cloth bandages.

“I can call Emma,” he said, but I quickly shook my head.

“I can handle it. The others can wait a few extra minutes while we care for her.”

He raised an eyebrow but nodded. Then he sat in that same spot, carefully avoiding her leg while quickly undoing the bandages. I held out the bowl, and he set the soiled pieces in it without fanfare.

Her leg was better than when I’d seen it on Magefall, but that wasn’t saying all that much considering the extent of the damage. The large cut that ran just below her knee had broken open. He quickly pressed his fingers to either side of the deep wound. Amethyst flinched as his magic interacted with her, a low whine escaping her lips. Her head jerked, but her eyes didn’t open. My hands tightened on the bowl, but I held back a more violent reaction, just as I had managed when he’d quickly mended her head on the beach. It helped that this time I was able to watch her skin visibly mend, closing back together and scabbing over in the space of a few minutes.

Once it had ceased bleeding, he quietly rewrapped her leg with new, unblemished bandages. He fixed the blanket so that she was properly covered and then took the bowl from my hands. He circled my wrist with his fingers, and some of the tension fell away from my shoulders. I flexed my hands and breathed slowly, trying to find my center again so that I could meet with the other participants. I closed my eyes to try to make the process go just a bit faster.

James cleared his throat.

“Thank you,” Vincent said. “You’re welcome to retire for the night. If the prince needs something, I’ll handle it.”

When I opened my eyes, James wasn’t in the tent—and neither was Reuben. Vincent wordlessly braided his hair, securing it with a thin piece of leather and then letting it fall down the center of his back. He’d switched back into his formal tunic, though he still wore standard pants rather than the black of the court regalia. No one would care that he was only in half-dress, though, least of all me. I grabbed the circlet from where it had been set on Reuben’s cot, nestling it against my temples and then letting my hair down from its tie.

Neither of us spoke as he held the tent’s flap open and then quietly closed it behind me, his eyes catching on Amethyst again before she was out of sight. Mine did, too, locking on the mark nestled between her thumb and forefinger, the red ink stark against her pale skin even in the low firelight. Nerves blended with excitement as I clenched my own hand behind my back.

The sun had fully set, both moons in the sky, Hyperion just beginning its ascent while the smaller of them, Zunair, was nearly back underneath the horizon again, already making its second arc through the sky as was typical this time of year. The encampment was frenetic with energy, people moving through the rows of tents, several speaking in low tones that didn’t carry much farther beyond them aside from indistinguishable murmurs. Even from here, the conversations from the center of the camp were audible.

Vincent quietly grabbed one of the extra fire jars on the ground just in front of Reuben’s tent, draping the strap so it sat across his chest, the jar itself perching on his hip. I quietly added a bit more to the flame, letting my magic spread through my fingertips. It was a relief to use it, to feel useful for the first time in hours. The light shone shadows on the tents we passed on our way to the large central bonfire and the benches permanently laid around it. The hum of conversation grew louder until words began to pick themselves free of the noise.