Page 15 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“Not anymore,” he assures me, his voice certain before he glances over his shoulder, frowning at whatever he sees there. “We don’t have much time, but I’ll try to explain the ceremony as best I can. I’m going to go stand with the other offerers,you’ll stand with the acceptees. There will be a brief service and then the priest will call one person at a time. They’ll ask who is offering you to the Mother, I’ll step forward and say the ritual words. They will then ask you if you accept the Mother’s blessing, which you respond with ‘yes.’ You will then be blessed and will join me on the other side of the altar,” he explains, his eyes tracking my face. “It’s simple, just copy the other acceptees.” A faint smile covers his lips as he tries to reassure me. “You’ll be fine, trust in the Mother.”

I open my mouth to speak, having no idea what I’m going to say, but we’re interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“Mage Grayson?”

As if he’s been struck, Grayson’s back straightens and his mask falls firmly back into place, every inch the high magician. “I’m coming,” he barks, and I see one of the priests hurrying away to avoid any further rebuttal from the magician. Eyes still on me, Grayson seems to be waiting for something, so I give him a ghost of a smile and nod my head.

Walk up to the altar, say yes, then go stand with Grayson, sounds easy enough,I think to myself as I watch the magician tidy his uniform and walk into the chapel.

Now alone in the courtyard, I take a couple of moments for myself, closing my eyes and enjoying the peace of the fresh air against my skin and the soft sounds of trickling water from the fountains. If someone had told me this morning that I would be attending the ceremony in a beautiful dress as a lady, no longer a slave, I would have called them crazy. Even in my wildest dreams I had never seen this future.

Opening my eyes, I take a deep breath and walk back towards the chapel door, the words being sung calling to me, even in a language I can’t understand. There is something magical about it. The music ends as I step through the door and the acceptees closest to me watch me with narrowed eyes, all except one whoshuffles closer to me. One of the younger priests steps up onto the altar and bows low to the high priest, who nods his head and moves to the side where he proceeds to cast his gaze over us.

“Your Royal Highnesses,” the young priest begins, pride lining every word as he addresses the queen and her sons before turning to the rest of the audience. “Lords, ladies, and esteemed guests, welcome. Today is a very special day for our acceptees, the day they will be blessed, and a very special few shall be chosen for a better calling.” There is a pause as excited whispers break out from the acceptees standing with me. “These young people are about to turn twenty and as such will become part of our society.”

I look around at the individuals standing with me with a new understanding. A part of me had thought that they shared a birthday with me, which was why the ceremony was today, but in reality that wouldn’t be practical—there are too many young people here to share the same day of birth. Thinking back on what I know of the ceremonies, which isn’t much, I know they take place four times a year, so they must invite the acceptees to the ceremony closest to their birthday. Glancing around at the people near me, I see a sea of taffeta dresses and smart suits, everyone’s dressed in their finest clothing. A frown pulls at my brow, I’d thought the servants were included in the ceremony, but I seriously doubt any of them are standing with me now. I’ve overheard servants discussing the ceremony and how they have to save for years to afford a suitable outfit.

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. At the back of the chapel, the grand doors open to reveal a line of nervous, well dressed people the same age as me, along with what must be their parents still in their serving uniforms.

“I can’t believe they still let them in.” Spinning around, I see a stunning woman in a bright fuchsia gown glaring at the new group with disgust.

“Excuse me?” My voice is quiet, confused. She can’t mean what I think she’s implying. I’m not even sure if she’s talking to me. Glancing around us, I see no one else is paying attention and she directs her icy blue eyes onto me.

“The commoners.” Her disgust is clear in both her voice and her expression, and I feel that ball of anger light up inside me again, but thankfully someone else speaks up before I can get myself into more trouble.

“Are you saying they shouldn’t be blessed?” a short, busty redhead with skin almost as pale as mine whispers, stepping closer to the two of us. “You know what would happen to them if they didn’t receive it, right?” Disgust also lines her voice, but I get the impression she is revolted by the other lady’s attitude, not the commoners. I can’t help but wonder what she would think if she knew she was standing with a slave.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, Aileen,” the lady in fuchsia responds with ice in her voice. I get the impression that there is no love lost between the two of them. “We’d never have anyone to serve us if we didn’t allow it, after all. I’m just saying that they should have their own ceremony and let this one beprivate. They let any old riff-raff into this one,” she says, looking Aileen up and down with a sneer on her face before turning to look at me again, her eyes taking in the grandness of my dress. “I don’t know who you are, but you would be wise to take heed of who you are associating with.”

Fighting to keep my face straight, I simply incline my head an inch, forcing myself to be polite and hoping she doesn’t sense the anger that’s burning within me. I don’t want to be making an enemy on my first day of freedom. “Thank you for the advice.”

Aileen snorts and the woman in fuchsia mutters something under her breath before turning and pushing her way to the front of the other acceptees. I guess I wasn’t convincing enough.

“She’s a piece of work,” Aileen mumbles under her breath as she turns back to watch the ceremony, the high priest still droning on. I should probably be paying attention, but instead I focus on the redhead in front of me. Her dress is a mixture of greens and blues in crisscrossing patterns, and it’s easy to see who her offerer is—a man with the same shade of ginger hair and a kilt in a similar crisscrossing fabric.

Opening my mouth, I go to reply, but the high priest calls the first acceptee forward. It’s a woman, and although she looks nervous, an excited gleam in her eye tells me otherwise. Striding up onto the dais, she drops into a curtsy before the royals and then turns a bright smile to the high priest. He starts the ceremony, calling forth her offerer who speaks the ritual words, the woman eagerly accepting the blessing. I’m not sure what I was expecting to happen, but a tingle of electricity running down my spine was not it. Eyes wide, I look around the room to see if anyone else noticed it. A few others appear confused, startled, but as I glance over at Grayson, he watches me knowingly and gives me a reassuring nod.

What’s that supposed to mean?Biting down on my lip, I turn my attention back to the woman on the platform, who’s obviously trying her best to hide her disappointment before she is guided off the stage and the next acceptee is called up—this time, a young man. His footing is strong as he steps onto the dais, repeating the process of bowing to the royals and the high priest. The ceremony carries on much the same. One of the ladies is blessed and chosen to join the priesthood, a little cheer rising up from the audience as she’s led away. A couple of the acceptees are partnered up in a blessed union, but no one has been chosen to join the magicians as of yet.

“Lady Clarissa of Lake Haven.” There is a low murmur as people begin to whisper, and as the time stretches on and no onesteps up, the high priest frowns before calling the name again. “Lady Clarissa.”

“I’m assuming that’s you, seeing as I grew up with all these idiots and none of them are Lady Clarissa or from Lake Haven,” Aileen mutters, giving me a tiny push in the small of my back.

Mother above!I curse internally, before taking a deep breath and stepping forward. Totally unused to the name I had just been given, I’m shaken, and I pray to the Mother that no one notices, or if they do they just put it down to nerves.

Taking slow, steady steps, I accept the hand of one of the guards who helps me up onto the dais. Dropping into an awkward and wobbly curtsy before the royals, I hold it for a second too long before hauling myself up again, my eyes catching on the princes as I start to move away. In doing so, I’m not looking where I’m going and my feet, so unused to wearing shoes, tangle up in my skirts and I begin to fall. Hands clutch my shoulders and my already flushed cheeks deepen to a shade of red as I realise Prince Jacob is kneeling in front of me and stopped me from sprawling on the dais before them. With a frown, I recognise he shouldn’t have been able to reach me in time, and I notice a hint of sticky, sweet magic rolling over me.

Eyes wide, I scrabble back from the prince, my words breathy. “My apologies, Your Highness.”

So much for staying under the radar,I chastise myself as I stand, brushing down my skirts and ignoring the fluttering feeling in my chest as the prince chuckles.

“I’m not used to ladies throwing themselves at me, that’s more my brother’s forte,” Prince Jacob teases quietly with a small smile. I smile back tightly in return and take a step away from the charming royal. I’m sure Jacob has his fair share of female attention, despite his studious nature. “Are you okay, Lady…”

“Clarissa, Lady Clarissa of Lake Haven.” I stumble over my name, but he simply smiles and nods his head.

“I look forward to seeing more of you in the future. Perhaps I can show you around the Great Library?” the prince suggests, and I open my mouth to respond but someone appears at his shoulder. I quickly lower my gaze as I realise it’s his more intimidating older brother. I’ve heard rumours about Michael, the middle son. Other than his popularity with women, it’s said that he has barely any patience and beats his servants. I want as little to do with him as possible.

“Brother, stop bothering the lady, no one wants to see those dusty books except for you.” I feel his interested gaze on me and it twists something inside me. Jerking my head up, I look into Jacob’s eyes and give him a small, but genuine smile.

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