Page 327

He pulled out a small golden... dagger?

My eyes widened as he placed the dagger against his palm.

“What are you doing?”

He looked up.

“Blood. It's the only way for us to seal this pact.” Shocked, I watched as he closed his hand around the blade and finally pulled it out without flinching. “Umbra won't work without this sacrifice.”

Deep crimson now dripped from his fist. The dagger… soaked in blood.

I stared at the blood dripping onto the floor, but forced myself to look at his book, where, beneath the Umbra runes, Latin letters formed whole words.

“Where does this language come from?”

I tried not to stare back at his hand, focusing on his features instead. Another mistake, because a strand of his hair slipped onto his forehead, and my stomach reacted with another overwhelming wave of that intense tingling sensation.

“All my research so far indicates that it originated in the Mediterranean region, with similarities to predecessor languages of Old Persian and Akkadian, but I can't say for sure.” He looked focused. “The clues all lead to the same sources.”

Interesting... So, Umbra really did have its origins far away from Quatura culture, which also originated in the Mediterranean region, but primarily in what was now Italy, Greece, and Egypt.

Quentin looked up at my hand, then handed me the dagger.

“It's your turn.”

I stared at the dagger with the thick, deep red liquid on it as if I had never participated in a temple ceremony before. And indeed, I had been excluded from the last eight ceremonies. Because of my pregnancy.

Realizing I was hesitating, I reached for the golden blade decorated with Umbra runes, placed it against my palm, and closed my hand into a fist.

As the blade cut into my flesh, I sighed in pain.

What in the name of the gods was this blade?

“You'll survive,” Quentin laughed dryly.

I straightened my features and looked at him determinedly as I cut deeper into my flesh.

The last thing he should think was that I was weak.

Unimpressed, he looked back at his book, put his finger on the words and murmured them barely audibly, his gaze focused. Then he turned back to me, took the blade from me and... grabbed my hand.

“Repeat the words after I say them, and then we'll say them together.”

Overwhelmed, I watched as he pressed his warm, bloody palm against mine and closed his rough, blood-stained fingers around the back of my hand.

Pain shot through my hand, but I suppressed the groan that rose in my throat.

“Naveed Xhenisa,” Quentin whispered, looking at me expectantly.

“Naveed Xhenisa,” I repeated, hoping I hadn't made a mistake.

We both repeated the words one last time. And as soon as we had uttered them, small, painful flashes of electricity shot through our hands.

I suppressed the pain, trying to do so until the moment Quentin groaned and looked up from our hands to me.

Shocked, I watched as the veins around his eyes and temples stood out, as did those on his hand and... my own as well.

I felt the pressure in my face, but I wasn't sure if I looked the same as he did.