Page 36 of The Last of the Dark Lords

"Are we doing this or what?"

Manod shook his head, chuckling. "It's good that Stahkla is not a self-serious god, or you'd never have survived so long as Lord of Ashfuror.”

Cyrus stepped forward and grabbed my hands in his.

"I know that you had no choice in this. Nor did I. But I have hope that this marriage can be more than a political convenience."

Over Cyrus' shoulder, I saw Jelenna's face set into a stone mask. I envied her in some ways. She could have done this, and it would have meant nothing to her. But that wasn’t me. The ritual, the marriage bond, it mattered to me. I wasn’t sure yet what it would grow into, but there was a tie between Cyrus and myself that was more than the requirements of a treaty we’d been forced to carry out.

“I want that, too,” I heard myself say. Cyrus smiled, and a warmth bloomed in my chest. Jelenna frowned.

"Let's begin." Manod gestured for us to stand together near the bonfire. "This ritual has two parts: the questioning and the joining. When we are done, you will be as one in the eyes of Stahkla."

I took a deep breath. Cyrus was right. We hadn't had a choice, and this was momentous in a way I didn't fully understand. But I would honor the treaty of my people. I hoped that with the bond solidified, our connection would blossom in the coming days.

"Answer the questions together. Do not look away from one another. The fire will burn away any falsity."

What did that mean? Cyrus saw the doubt in my eyes. He smiled at me, and the tension in my shoulders released. I understood that his smiles for me were different, were something he shared with no one else. They took my breath away.

"Go on, Manod." Cyrus spoke for both of us.

"The fire of the God is witness." Manod's voice took on a strange, deep resonance. It rattled in my chest. "Petitioners, do youpledge your devotion to one another, forsaking all others in this the strongest bond?"

"We do." The words came unbidden to my lips, as if my mind had been turned off, and only my soul answered. Cyrus looked surprised as well. Next to us, the bonfire blazed forth hotter and higher.

"Do you pledge to stand in the way of all harm to your betrothed, and to never purposefully cause them harm yourself?"

"We do." Once again, the fire blazed brighter, climbing up toward the roof of the chapel.

"Do you pledge to love each other, and in so doing, protect and love all of the people of Fyr?"

There was a pause. I didn't love Cyrus, I barely knew him, but within me, I felt there was something stirring. Were the seeds of love there? Could they be cultivated with time?

Yes.

"We do." The bonfire flashed, and heat poured off of it. It was almost too much, but I kept my eyes locked to Cyrus'. For some reason, withstanding the heat of the fire was an important part of the ceremony.

"Then join hands, petitioners." Cyrus reached out and I took his hand in mine. I felt him tremble as our fingers met. It was comforting to know that he was as nervous as I was.

"Now we seal your answers with the flame of truth." Manod stepped forward and rested his hand on top of ours. "And may that seal last through adversity and through prosperity, even past the point of death."

With that, Manod pushed our joined hands into the fire.

Jelenna yelled from across the room. I held up my free hand to stop her, knowing she would attack if she believed me to be in danger.

The spike of burning pain subsided almost immediately. Ropes of fire wound around our hands, and although there was an odd pressure, I no longer sensed any heat. As the cables tightened, I felt them sink into our skin, the energy dissolving and spreading.

The fire went out.

The chapel was now dark, except for the glow of Cyrus’ crown, and the glow of our two hands, now one. They shone bright with orange-red runes, shifting and turning as they surfaced on our skin and then disappeared. I held tight to Cyrus. We had to experience this fully. We could only let go when it was all over.

Then my mind was plunged into the deepest of dark waters. Around me swirled a maelstrom of emotions that I understood were not my own: fear, trepidation, a grasping for control, confusion, embarrassment, even pride. But there, at the center, was a spark, still small, but growing, pulsing and expanding little by little. It was hope.

Cyrus’ eyes were wide, and I knew he hadn’t had any warning of what would happen, that our connection would be so immediate and so deep. He stared at me with trepidation, scared of my reaction.

I smiled. I had pledged myself to him. To the possibility of our love.

Relief flashed on his face, and his whole body relaxed. On our hands, the ember-bright runes faded away, leaving our skin unblemished. Cyrus pulled me into him, kissing me hard, and I met him with the same fierceness.

---