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Then I stormed from the room to ready myself for the next part of the ceremony. The part I both yearned for and dreaded the most. If she didn’t hate me before, she would soon enough.
Chapter 22
UNA
Somehow,I was no longer afraid. I didn’t tremble at all, even as I stood right outside the giant double doors to the throne room, listening to a rhythmic beat of drums and the lowly chanted name “Goll” like they did outside of my palace at Issos.
No, that was no longer my palace. This was.
Dalya paused at my side as I looked at the black obsidian door, carved with wraith kings of old. Even in stone relief carvings—sitting upon a throne, wielding a curved sword, standing beside a dragon—the images portrayed strength and power like I’d never known.
Beyond this door sat a living, breathing king upon his throne who was going to be my one and only mate. For I knew I would take no other, even after I beget his child and he cast me aside. I’d made a vow beneath Lumera’s light and, to me, that was binding for life.
“Go through when you’re ready,” Dalya whispered. “Or”—she hesitated—“if this isn’t what you want, you can choose notto walk through that door. You can go back to your room and change. I can help you.”
There was such sincerity in her voice as she told me she’d help me run away. I turned my head to look at her. She held me in her golden eyes. I was shocked she’d offer such a thing, that she’d betray Goll. For surely, he’d see that as a betrayal.
Was it for my sake or her own? Or her kingdom’s? What would happen if an Issosian moon fae begat the heir to Northgall?
I wasn’t sure of her motives, but I was certain of something else entirely that struck me to the bone as I told her, “This is where I belong.”
Her expression tightened with concern. She lowered her gaze as she curtsied, then slipped off down a side corridor. She’d told me she could not enter through the front entrance; only the mizrah entered here on this night. When I stepped through the door, it was my acceptance of the people of Northgall and a promise of devotion to the wraith king. Dalya had told me to be sure before I walked through, for there would be no turning back.
When I’d woken in my bed with Vix’s final vision repeating in my head, I was certain of everything. Agodhad given me his memory, his will, his blessing through that strange vision.
“I am certain,” I whispered to myself.
Even as I’d stood naked in my bedchamber, my feet planted wide so that the priestesses could cover my body from neck to feet with shimmering gold paint then use dragon-mane quills to paint black demon sign around my breasts where I would feed the king’s child, around my stomach where the babe would swell, down my legs and arms so that I might carry the babe with strength, I did not fear or flinch at what was coming.
The beating of a drum and the chant continued as I readied to push open the door. My long braid brushed my buttocks.
The god’s words whispered back to me.It will turn the world right again.
I was somehow a part of that. I could help turn the world right again by walking through this door. We’d been plagued by sickness and war for so many years. But that final vision spoke directly to my soul. That was my purpose. This was my destiny.
I straightened my wings and my spine. I braced my hands on the handles of both doors and pushed them inward, opening both wide. The drums and chanting silenced at once.
At the front of the long oval hall, Gollaya sat upon a giant throne, a dragon carved into the black stone.
Goddess above. He looked magnificent.
He wore nothing but a leather skirt that ended above his knees. Without his armor, he looked more powerful, not less. Most might appear vulnerable in such a bare state. He did not. With the gold jewelry decorating his horns, the gold cuffs on his wrists, the demon runes burned into his chest and prominent forehead, his broad, muscular body could only belong to the most virile of kings.
His ice-blue eyes flared bright, but he kept his clawed hands on the arms of his throne, his fingers curling at the ends as if he were striving to keep himself in place.
The sounding of one drum began to beat, a slow, steady tempo for a march. That’s when I finally tore my gaze from Goll to the room. The courtiers—male and female wraith fae, all in their regular garb, not half nude like Goll or fully bare like me—stood in a wide circle several fae deep.
My heart tripped faster. There were easily two hundred present. Maybe more. Gathering my courage, I stepped out to the beat of the drum, walking along the back of the circle as Dalya had instructed. No one made a sound as I kept my chin up, my back straight, my wings high and made the walk of themizrah, presenting myself to the wraith fae royal court, awaiting their acceptance as their mizrah.
I skimmed over the royal council, not wanting to see the disapproval in their eyes, seeking the Culled in the crowd. My heart burst with relief when I found Keffa, his gaze on my face only, his smile genuine and proud. Soryn beside him still looked grave as always, but he gave me a nod of approval, which sent an unexpected spark of happiness to my soul. I needed their approval. Iwantedit. It was a strange discovery.
“Mizrah,” said Pullo, the younger one with the shaved sides of his head and the braid down the center of his back. His smile was wide when he said again, “Mizrah.”
Then Tierzel at his side joined in, chanting with him as I continued my march around the room to the beat of the single drum. Then two more after that.
My gaze landed on Meck and Ferryn. They, too, kept their eyes above my shoulders. They were male, and I’m sure they looked as well as every person in the room. But when I met their eyes, they were fixed solely on mine.
Meck smiled wide. But Ferryn frowned, a look of concern on his face, likely from the last time I saw him when he’d practically had to carry me to my room. But then he bowed, dipping his horns low in reverence.
