Page 65 of A Pact of Blood

That sounds simple enough. I watch to see how the cleric will arrange the blood-letting, but he makes no further move toward Marclinus. Instead, he sets off around the rim of the hollow to meet his emperor at the altar.

Marclinus shrugs off the thin purple robe of embroidered silk he was wearing, which a page darts over to collect. Beneath, he has on one of the typical billowy Darium shirts, but breeches that only drop to his knees. He’s left his upper calves bare above tall leather boots of light beige.

An inkling passes through my head of what this might signify. A chill tickles down my spine.

My husband strides down the slope of the hollow with total confidence, which of course he’d have when he’s been properly outfitted for this task. He takes only a moment to gaze at the field of goldglobe plants before he marches on into their midst.

Those boots must have been tailored specifically for this test. The highest leaves reach just above the leather rim.

They slice across Marclinus’s bare shins, drawing scarlet lines in his milky skin. The color of the boots immediately makes sense as the blood dribbles down the leather surface toward the earth.

He wants everyone to see what he’s sacrificing for this rite, the red standing out starkly against the pale material.

Those scratches can’t hurt all that much, though. As Marclinus walks on, blood continues to trickle over his boots, but only a few more leaves scrape over his flesh. Most of them simply drag across the leather without doing more than smearing the blood, drawing the blotches larger.

I flex my toes within my typical leather slippers—which aren’t specially made and don’t even reach my ankle bones. The chill has condensed in my chest.

I can’t back down now, not when my participation has already been announced, not in front of all these people whose hearts and minds I need to win. I’ve bled in Marclinus’s trials before.

At least this time, it’ll be for a purpose I’m happier to serve.

Marclinus dips down here and there to pluck one of the melons off the plants. The bright yellow globes fill his entire hand with long fingers splayed. More red lines dapple his knuckles and wrists with each acquisition.

His confident smile never leaves his face. He knows how to put on a show—I’ll give him that.

He barely veers from his straight course across the vast patch of greenery. When he reaches the opposite side with a heap of ten melons in his basket, he hefts it high with two blood-streaked hands and carries it up the far slope like a trophy. Once he’s set it on the altar, he bows to the cleric with a dramatic flourish.

My heart is thudding hard enough to drown out thewords she says accepting his completion of the task. The crowd around the ceremony site cheers.

As the cleric calls out for the empress to join her as well, one of the temple devouts pushes a matching basket into my hands.

Here I go.

Sucking in a deep breath, I tread down the slope toward the goldglobe. The skirt of my dress ripples around my legs.

I did choose well in one element of my attire. I went with Eloxian white to emphasize peace and security—and so that the blood I spill will stand out against it. The crimson will bloom even more brightly on the silk than it did Marclinus’s beige leather.

With my first step into the mass of vines, I hold the faint hope in the back of my head that my enchanted clothing will offer some protection. It only takes a couple of paces to realize the full extent of my predicament.

The leaves etch little cuts into my legs from my ankles to just below my knees, tearing the silk of my skirt as they do. The magical protections woven into the fabric must only work against blades of metal, not natural vegetation.

Or maybe no magic at all could fend off this god-blessed plant.

The sharp edges also score the supple leather of my shoes. Marclinus’s boots must have been made of tougher stuff. Within another couple of steps, the first prick of a leaf slices right through the sole into my heel.

Pain radiates up my thighs, dulled by the suppressant I ingested but still potent enough to niggle at my nerves. Gods only know how awful I’d feel if Ihadn’ttaken my own small precaution.

Scarlet splotches spread across the white fabric around my legs. The silk sticks to the wounds and detaches withevery swing of my feet across the ground. A fresh sting emanates with every movement.

I breathe slow and even, casting my gaze across the dark green vegetation in search of those brilliantly yellow globes so aptly named.

Marclinus seemed to find his easily enough. He must have picked all the ripe melons growing close to the middle of the field.

A gleam of yellow catches my eye, and I veer toward it, restraining a wince as more leaves rake across my flesh like tiny claws. Inside, I sink my focus into the serene space I hold tight at my core.

Elox, stay with me. Let me meet this challenge with all my composure. Let me see it through to the end.

The growing ache in my limbs turns my breath ragged. I bend down, set my jaw at the prick of the leaves across my fingers, and yank out one melon.

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