Page 18 of Dragons' Mate
The gong sounds, the priest calling Tavias’s name and just like that all the squabbling and threats disappears into irrelevance. It’s our turn.
I am so nervous that I'm numb as I ascend the wooden dais beside the rest of the pack, Tavias and Quinton kneeling on either side of me. Against the din of the crowd and the image of the frightened girl's blood spilling onto the marble floor, the priest's words sound like a foreign language. I've not heard of Orion before today and vaguely wonder why a goddess who watches over the dragonkind’s fertility would have so little value for life as to be pleased by blood sacrifice.
Then again, it’s only humans’ blood that has been spilt thus far and Orion isn’t supposed to watch over us.
The priest's hand is ruthless as his silver blade bites into my forearm. The cut isn't deep, but the sight of my blood dripping into the ceremonial chalice suddenly makes me queasy. What a start to the trials that would be, if I were to pass out right on the dais from the sight of my own blood.
Breath, wildcat.Tavias's voice sounds inside my head.It will be over soon.
I startle and look over at him just as the priest starts his questioning about our desire to seek Orion’s leave to enter the trials. Tavias’s attention remains on the priest but I can hear him chuckle tightly inside my head.Yes, you are that easy to read.The humor fades.Brace yourself. Don’t call out if you can help it.
Right. Because weakness will make me a target. I swallow as the priest asks the final question, but my voice is steady alongside the males. I don't regret the choice I've made to be here, but that doesn't mean I'm not terrified as I watch the priest’s bloody knife draw a glowing symbol in the air. I wrap my hands in my dress to keep them from going to my neck when—
Searing pain consumes my body, making my back arch. I want to scream but I’ve no breath. Fire and magic carve into me, deep and hot and unrelenting. The world blinks.
Breath, wildcat. Stay with me.Tavias’s words sound in my mind, piercing through the agony. However angry he is over being manipulated, there is nothing but concern and steadiness in the connection now. A lifeline for me to hold.It’s just the magic. Stay with me.
He says it over and over, though he must hurt as much as I do. I wonder if Tavias knows how perilously close to passing out I am. I think Quinton does, because I feel a desperate tug on that bond between us, keeping me in the now.
Several agonizing heartbeats pass before the pain fades away to something dull and deep, and I hear the priest’s voice bidding us to rise. Just as I find my feet though, I hear a murmur rushing over the crowd. Tavias turns to me and pales, the priest utters a prayer on my other side.
“What is it?” I ask, my hand going to my neck.
"She's been rejected!" someone calls, others picking up the words and echoing them to each other.
“There is no mark.”
“The Goddess Orion has rejected the heir apparent’s bride!” Geoffrey shouts above the rest. “All praise the Goddess Orion.”
The priest grabs my chin roughly, lifting it high to expose my neck. "There is no mark," he confirms.
"But I felt it," I whisper. "Ifeltthe fire and the magic. It has to be there."
"Your human has been tested and found wanting, Tavias,” Geoffrey calls again. “Collect up your trash and clear the dais for the real competitors.”
"I don't understand," I say, grabbing Tavias’s forearm before he can indeed lead me off the dais. Desperation washes over me. "I felt the burn. The pain. I swear."
"Stop.” Quinton’s cold quiet certainty makes even the priest flinch. “She is marked."
The priest sighs and takes my chin again. “She—”
Quinton’s growl is so full of violence that the priest releases me at once and backs away. Stepping up behind me, Quinton rips the back of my dress down the center, the material giving beneath the shearing force.
“Goddess Orion,” the priest whispers under his breath.
Taking my shoulders, Quinton twists my bared back toward the crowd. "The goddesshasbestowed a mark on her,” he announces. “A Dragon’s mark. Do you not agree, High Priest?”
The priest's nostrils flare, a vein standing out and pulsing beneath his tattooed skin. He looks ready to spit nails.
"Acknowledge the mark," Tavias demands, magic playing over his scales as he steps up beside Quinton. Tavias’s previously clear back now bears an intricate design of dragon’s wings, the same ones that I see on Cyril and Hauck and Quinton. Is that what's on my back now too? The tattoo is beautiful and large enough to leave almost no patch of skin without color. No wonder it hurt so greatly to receive. Tavias raises his voice, pitching it across the ballroom as if commanding a battlefield. "Orion has accepted our pack and our bride, Kitterny. Acknowledge her, High Priest, or suffer the force of Orion's wrath."
"The mark is acknowledged," the priest admits, though the glare he gives me is nothing but utter hatred. As if I'd offended him personally.
"It seems the goddess isn't the only one to have marked this human." A voice that sounds like Ettienne but isn't him suddenly calls, with more than a little amusement. Salazar. I recognize him from when Autumn pointed him out. Standing close to the dais, Salazar now extends a crackle of his magic to flick against the top of my breast, where my dress has slipped down just enough to make Quinton's bite mark visible.
Shit.I pull my ripped dress back up hastily, but that only makes everything worse.
"My congratulations to you, brother," Salazar turns to Ettienne, whose face is flashing a dark shade of burgundy. "One of your pups has taken a mate, it seems. May their union be joyous and long."
