Page 180
“It’s a contest of who’s willing to,” she replies smoothly. “If your mind can’t endure the physical torment, you’re too weak to be a queen. You’ve never even taken care of yourself.”
My chin dips until I force it to lift higher.
“I’ve been around long enough to know insecurity disguised as an insult.”
Bridget’s expression doesn’t crack. If anything, she looks amused.
“How long have you known Edwin Crotavere? A few weeks?”
There’s a lifetime of things I don’t know about Edwin, but that doesn’t change the fact that we have a connection. A bond no one else needs to understand.
“I’ve been with Patrick for twenty-two years,” she continues with pride. “Longer than you’ve been alive. I know when to keep my mouth shut and when to show my strength. I understand this game—to look away when they have their parties and ceremonies and a woman is brought in for him.”
My heart lurches. The image comes despite my refusal. Edwin with another woman. His hands touching her where they’ve touched me. His mouth. His attention. All for some ceremony I have yet to learn about.
A bright flash of pain streaks through my chest. Jealousy feels childish, but it sits there anyway.
Bridget watches the reaction flicker across my face.
“Can you do the same?” she asks. “Will you look the other way when the Order has Edwin fuck another woman?”
My mouth opens and nothing comes out. I want to explain every way she’s wrong. That Edwin would never. But her calm certainty makes my confidence feel thin.
The chamber door opens, letting cold air slip in along with Edwin and Patrick.
Patrick is smiling, reaching for Bridget with the assurance of a man who already knows how this ends.
Edwin doesn’t smile. His face is serious, set into the controlled focus he gets when he refuses to show any weakness.
His devotion to me is real. I know it is. But I don’t know if I could ever truly be his equal. The burden of becoming Seraph gets heavier every day. And I’m not sure I’m strong enough to wear that crown.
Bridget and I walk side by side into the ritual room, our men flanking us. Tonight the chamber feels even more like a cathedral with dozens of candelabras of varying heights circling the space, their flames trembling. Heat reaches my skin before we make it ten steps.
The center holds two stone altars, long and curved as if specifically made for bodies to recline on. Their surfaces have been worn smooth by time and use. How many people have been placed there before us? Symbols are carved around the sides, softened by age, but I can’t guess what any of them mean.
Men once again circle us from the two levels above, cloaked and masked. It’s no less daunting the third time. Liam comes to stand between the altars, and when he speaks, his voice carries through the room in that ceremonial tone.
“The Binding asks which couple has the deepest tether to their partner. How can they demonstrate that through physicality alone?”
Edwin wouldn’t hint at what was expected of me tonight. Physicality doesn’t tell me much, but if our connection is being tested, I hope that means he’ll be part of it.
“What one takes, the other gives. What one suffers, the other bears. And tonight, you will endure what is required to become inseparable.” He motions with his hands toward us. “Prepare them.”
The Veiled Matrons step forward. Their modest dresses are bright in the dark room, their expressions unreadable beneath the white tulle veils. They come behind Bridget and me to place soft cloths over our eyes. Darkness presses in around me without a sliver of vision to rely on.
Panic spikes, and I breathe through my nose to hide it. Then Edwin’s hand finds mine. My body knows him now. The shape of his fingers. The particular steadiness of his grip. Fear doesn’t vanish, but it leans towards him.
He guides me forward. The stone beneath my bare feet is cool despite all the candles. The weight of eyes presses on me even though I can’t see them. When we stop, his hands slide over my shoulders, pushing the cloak off to reveal me.
Being exposed here should feel less shocking by now. After everything I’ve endured, I should be numb to it. But I’m not sure I’ll ever get over having my body scrutinized by a room full of men. The blindfold gives me a strange kind of strength. In the dark, I can pretend I’m invisible. That no one else is here with us.
The quiet is what gets to me. Nobody makes a sound. No murmurs rise from the balcony. No cough breaks the tension. Only dead silence.
Edwin’s mouth brushes mine, letting my fear loosen enough for me to breathe.
“It’s only you and me,” he whispers against my ear.
His hands move over my body, sending chills through my heated skin. My breath catches when he lifts me, his strength so effortless that I feel weightless.
