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I blink several times, making sure what I’m seeing is real. This belongs on royalty, not me.

Edwin lifts it carefully. “This has been passed down to each Seraph.”

Anna. Barbara. Vanessa.

Now me.

He fastens the jewels around my neck. The emerald rests against my skin, surrounded by diamonds, weighted with the inheritance of a lineage.

I hardly have time to admire it before Liam presents us with a parchment yellowed by age. Six names are already written there. Edwin and I sign ours in the empty space beneath them.

There is no crossing us out or erasing our names. We are among the leaders before us because we belong there.

Then Edwin pulls out the knife again. He slices his palm first without hesitation, used to the pain. Then he passes the blade to me.

I stare at it before gripping the handle too tightly. I’ve avoided sharp objects since what happened that night. The scars on my body will heal but never disappear, and I’m afraid the memories will always haunt me.

But my hand doesn’t shake. I draw the knife across my palm, letting the pain flare and die. Blood wells up, dark and glossy in the firelight.

Edwin takes my hand and presses our palms together, letting our blood mingle. Three drops fall to the parchment beside our names, and the old paper drinks it in like a vow.

He lifts my wounded hand and kisses it. When he looks at me, it’s like I’m the only thing in the room worth seeing.

“You, Zaiya, are above all others,” he says. “I am their leader, but you… you are their goddess.”

A shiver moves over my skin. His faith in me is dangerous. It gives me the confidence to do anything I want. This is what it means to realize no one can erase you anymore.

Surrounded by men who have spent their lives commanding the world, I feel something I never thought would belong to me.

Control.

Liam’s voice cuts the silence. “Your mark.”

He gestures to a chair beside the altar. Next to it is a small fire pit with two iron handles protruding from the coals.

Edwin takes the chair and turns it to face me before sitting. He opens his shirt, revealing his chest and the serpent-and-hourglass already branded into his skin on his right pec.

“Miss Zapera.” Liam gestures to one of the irons.

The end glows orange in the shape of a crown. The Sovereign symbol.

I know what I have to do, but I hate it. I don’t want to hurt Edwin, not after everything his body has endured. I want to soothe every wound and soften the world around him. But the Order doesn’t work that way.

He keeps his eyes on mine, forcing me to believe we’re the only two people in the room.

I grab the wooden handle and raise the iron. Heat radiates from it in waves, kissing my skin before it ever touches his. My breathing quickens as I turn towards him.

“No hesitation, baby.” He holds his shirt open and taps his finger above the mark that’s already burned into him. “Right here. Press hard for three seconds.”

I draw in a calming breath and hold the handle with two hands. I move slowly, though I know I’m making the wait worse for him. I want to get the placement right. When it’s exactly where it needs to be, my eyes shift up to meet his.

He nods.

My voice comes out stronger than I feel.

“Slither in shadow. Strike with venom.”

I press the iron into his skin firmly. A light sizzle accompanies a curl of smoke. The acrid smell of burning flesh hits my nose, but I don’t move away.