Mark of Betrayal (Dark Secrets #3)(74)
Author: A.M. Hudson

“Hence the pizza.” I smiled to myself. “If he starts eating ice-cream, we know things are serious,” I joked, but Emily bit her lip. “Oh, Em—don’t tell me he’s that miserable.”

“He just misses you. He hates being away, and he hates that he can’t be here tonight—to see you take your oath.”

I swallowed. “I hate it, too. But I’ll bet you’re happy you’ll be here for the knighting ceremony?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It was hard choosing between my mum’s fiftieth or seeing my fiancé become a knight.”

“Do you think that’s why he was so insistent we move the ceremony?”

Emily shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I’m sure it was,” Morgaine said. “Then again, he is pretty anxious to get in there and kick some evil Blood King butt.”

I laughed. “Yeah, maybe I should be letting them go without me. I mean, it’s better for the people, right?”

“And what if you’re right, Ara?” Emily said. “What if they do need you there to kill Drake?”

I nodded. “That’s the only reason I didn’t pipe up and say something.”

Morgaine took my other hand and pulled me to stand. “Well, none of that matters, right now. We need to go dress you for your big night.”

“Okay.”

“Right, and, Em?” Morg looked back at her as we reached the stairs.

“Yeah?”

“Come by and give Amara some blood in about an hour, okay?”

“Really? I thought she wasn’t allowed to eat today.”

Morg smiled. “No one said she couldn’t have a little blood to get her through.”

“Rule breaker,” I said; she just shrugged.

* * *

“Now, remember, there are strict rules to adhere to—formalities that you must not corrupt,” Morgaine said sternly. “No smiling, waving, say nothing except your oath, show no emotion, no pain, no joy, no fear—”

“I know,” I moaned. “You’ve only told me fifty times, Morg.”

“Right. And remember, when you reach the edge of the forest, after the Walk of Faith, you must smile.”

“Yes, Miss.” I saluted, smiling at her through the reflection of my dresser mirror.

“I’m sorry, Amara. I don’t mean to be hard on you—it’s just…we have these rules for a reason. Royalty is something highly valued among our people.” She sat down on my bed. “In the world you grew up in, Princess, no one cares about formalities anymore. But we still do. You must adhere to our traditions.”

“I will, Morg.” I rubbed my temples, leaning on my elbows. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” she said in a soft, high tone, then stood up. “Now, let’s go over this one more time; you carry the dagger to the Stone and use it to make the first cut along your mouth.”

I ran my tongue over my bottom lip. “Right. The blood of the lips to bind my words to truth.”

“And…?” She prompted.

I spread my fingers and showed an open palm. “Blood of the hand to hold the promise.”

“And blood of the heart,” she said. “A pledge to rule with that which guides the soul.”

I touched a hand to my chest. “How am I going to stay alive if I have to jab a dagger into my heart?”

She scratched her nose. “Just don’t dig too deep. It only has to be from the place surrounding the heart, Amara—you don’t actually have to stab your own heart.”

“And what if I do?”

“Then you fall to the floor and we do the coronation on the next full moon.” Morg looked at my face in the reflection then turned around and grabbed her purple velvet cloak from the bed. “Here—” She ripped off one of the wooden toggles. “Just bite down hard on this—it’ll help.”

I studied it. “Right. A pop-stick’s going to ease the agony of cutting myself open and splashing my blood on a piece of rock.”

“I said it would help.”

“Yeah, help me not bite my tongue off.”

“There now, that’s looking on the bright side.” She patted my arm.

I glared up at her, unamused.

“Could be worse.” She shrugged. “You could have to make the oath naked, like Lilith did.”

I shuddered, then smiled down at the small scar on my wrist; the one Jason left when he attacked me. It was minuscule now, barely a sliver of a memory, but still there, still visible in the light. “The tatt—er, markings, they fade, right? Like, you’re not lying about that part, are you?”

“No. When the crown is set atop your head, the ritual is over, and they will fade. I promise.”

“Promise?” My wide eyes forced my brows up. “Look, I never liked tattoos. I really don’t want to—”

“Amara. You’ll be fine. Stop worrying.” She massaged my shoulders. “It’ll be the best day of your life. And we’ll all be there waiting for you at the end.”

“I know, Morg. I’m just…I mean, what if I forget the words for the incantation?”

“Just say them in your head as you walk to the Stone, and you’ll be fine. Now—” She unclipped my hair and let it fall loosely down my back, then took my hand, standing me up. “You remember what Eileen said? How, instead of nakedness, they’re letting you take your oath in a fabric made of nature.”

“Yup. Patesco Silk.” I closed my eyes for a second, rolling my head as if it’d help bring the information to the surface. “Spun from spiders’ webs, dyed silver as an offering to the Goddess of the Moon.”

“And…why the Goddess of the Moon?” she asked in a tone one would use with a child in primary school.

“Uh, I know this—” I held my finger up, racking my brain. “It’s the spirit which strengthens Lilithian power.”

“And what else is She?” Morg asked leadingly.

“Um, and…” I stopped, closing my eyes: “She also represents purity and serenity.”

“So you were listening the other day?” Morgaine laughed, helping me out of my bathrobe. “I thought you might have gone to sleep at one point.”

“I thought I had.” I chuckled, covering my bare br**sts. “I mean, the first three hours were okay, but after that I lost interest.”

Morgaine grabbed the silver cloth from the bed behind her and wrapped it across my front, tying it around my ribs and over my hips, leaving it hanging loosely from my thighs downward, with a split on each side that revealed my legs. If I moved the wrong way, everyone would see my nakedness beneath.