Page 7 of King of the Dawn

“Are you happy?” he asked. “If you don’t want this, we don’t have to go through with it.”

I took his hand from my cheek and kissed his palm.

“Among my people, we handfast. Did you know that?” I looked at his unmarred palm, where the deep lines of his life spread before me like a map. I looked at the outside of his hand, where a single line creased the edge of his hand - a single marriage line. He would only marry once. And it would be a long one. I kissed his hand, knowing that marriage was to me. “We cut a line across our palm, intended to scar to mark us as wed.”

He grunted, “Yes. A rather unpleasant surprise for me during Rose and Alastair’s wedding.”

I laughed, remembering that day. I had been dragged by my nephews to the wedding, unwilling and unhappy to see the Greens again. I was half terrified they would give me back to Eoghan, and return me to that haunted mansion on the hill. But they hadn’t.

“We can only make that vow once. We mark our skin and cannot do it again.” I kissed his palm again, hope blossoming in my chest. “It means your vows become my oaths. Your wants become my needs. Fidelity is enforced by everyone who witnesses the mark on your hand, and if you break your pledge, your spouse chooses your punishment.”

Please, do not turn me away, Jericho.

“I did not make such a pledge to Alastair,” I said, with a hint of pride. As if that lack of scarring made me… pure… at least in that sense. It gave me something unmarred that I could give to him.

“Good,” Jericho said, his face still somber. “You have a chance to make a true pledge to someone who deserves you.”

There was a sadness in his voice… as if the pledge would not be made to him. Or, like me, was he afraid that the pledge was somehow unrequited? No. I needed to make that oath to him now. I needed him to see it. To know… to feel my undying fidelity to the one light in my otherwise blackened life.

My brows furrowed.

“Please,” I brought his hand on my lips again, taking in his scent. His musk. The sheer power of his presence. “Will you make the pledge with me?”

He tilted his head and smirked. “My, my, witch. Are you trying to make an honest man out of me?”

I felt his chuckle rumble deep in his chest, but still. Sadness lingered in the air between us.

“Please,” I begged in a quiet whisper.

He took in a sharp breath. “I feel no impetus to harm you. To wound you. To draw your blood. I feel no need to mark you with anything but my kisses.”

He tried to pull his hand away, but I kept it near me. I kept it close to my mouth, and nibbled the Venus mound of his hand – one that indicated that he was a loving man, who cared much about his family.

“Please, husband,” I whispered again. I would not allow his rejection. I needed this. If not for him, for myself. “I wish to make the pledge with you.”

He stiffened. “Save it for the man you will spend your life with.”

“I am!” I protested. “I will spend my life with you.”

“Evie…”

“Jericho.” I placed my fingers against his lips. “I am your wife. Let my hand bear the mark of our union. That is my way. It is my choice to make a pledge to you that I did not make to Alastair. Let me give you more of myself than he took.”

His eyes looked pained, as he examined my face. He opened his mouth, and I knew he would say no. I knew that he would tell me that this was a bad idea, but I was beyond his protests. I would assert myself this one time. For this. He had given me a voice. Now I would use it.

“Hand me your dagger,” I whispered. “I know you keep one in your nightstand.”

He lifted a brow and a small smirk crossed his lips.

“Have you been snooping, witch?” He leaned over and pulled the drawer open, blindly finding the dagger there - small enough to fit into his large boots, I was sure. A last resort in case of attack.

“You told me it was our room,” I said feeling the kindling in my heart ignite into a flame. “So why wouldn’t I look in your drawers?”

I went to my own nightstand to pull out a single black hair ribbon. It wasn’t ideal. A tie, or scarf would work better. But I wouldn’t allow him space between us. I did not want him to change his mind and come to his senses.

I pulled the knife from its sheath and discarded the leather cover on the bed.

The blade glinted at me, reflecting in the sparse light from the window. I opened my left palm, and without hesitation, sliced across my hand.

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