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The priestess turned to Veyka. At the Joining, our blood would be truly mixed, shared between our bodies. For now, it would mingle symbolically within the golden chalice.

“Do you, Veyka Pendragon, daughter of Uther and Igraine, Offer yourself as the Heir of the Elemental Fae, to seal the accords made by our forbearers, the revered Ancestors?”

I expected Veyka’s eyes to be defiant, angry—blue storm clouds. But she was not looking at me, nor at the priestess. She stared at the golden chalice. When she lifted her hand, it was shaking.

“I, Veyka Pendragon, do Offer myself,” she said, her voice strong and clear despite the tremble of her fingers.

The priestess pressed the knife into the base of Veyka’s thumb.

Nothing happened. Her skin did not yield, no blood sprang forth.

We were isolated enough at the center of the room that none of the spectators could see what was happening, though their senses were sharp enough to recognize that only my blood had been drawn so far.

The priestess lifted the tip of the knife, examining it, looking back at my half-healed hand, the blood already in the chalice.

If it weren’t so strange I might have been amused at her discomfiture.

With a slight shake of her head, her red gown quivering around her, she pressed the blade into Veyka’s hand again.

Veyka breathed in sharply and I felt my chest relax, expecting blood to burst forth.

But none did.

“Ancestors,” the priestess huffed in frustration.

“Ancestors be damned,” Veyka cursed.

In the next breath, she drew one of the daggers resting in the twin scabbards on her hips and plunged the blade into her hand herself.

The blood gushed out of her hand, spraying over the priestess’ gown as well as her own. If she’d have been wearing white, it would have been ruined. The priestess was blinking owlishly, as if she couldn’t comprehend the sequence of events. I couldn’t either.

Veyka rolled her eyes and tipped her palm over the chalice, squeezing it into a fist until her blood ran down to join mine.

She sheathed her weapon and then let her hand fall at her side.

The priestess was still visibly shaken, but she managed to step back and hold the chalice high for the surrounded audience to see. “Our heirs have made their Offerings in blood. As their life forces mix and join together, so may our kingdoms be joined in peace and prosperity.”

As she swirled the blood in the chalice, the ball of water above our heads loosened. Long, graceful tendrils swirled outward until they encircled Veyka and I completely in a ring of glowing, moving water.

The priestess looked to us, inclining her head almost imperceptibly. What did she want? For us to join hands? Kiss?

I shot a look to Veyka, her hands fisted at her sides, distaste practically dripping off her like the blood moments before.

My own blood began to boil again, the formality of the ceremony giving way to the anger and frustration I’d felt before.

The priestess cleared her throat, clearly deciding we weren’t going to humor her further. “The Joining will take place on the eve of Mabon, to symbolize the balance of light and dark being restored to Annwyn at long last.”

I’d expected that much, at least. The Joining always took place at the equinox. Mabon was closer than Ostara, a mere three months away.

The ropes of water encircling us turned to cool mist.

Applause filled the room, spilling out the open archways carried on the wind of the powerful elementals assembled. Those words would be carried all across Annwyn, through the rifts into the human realm. A reminder that the united kingdoms of the fae were strong. We were death to any humans stupid enough to test us again.

I would personally dismember anyone who attempted to disrupt that peace. My entire life had been an act of sacrifice to my kingdom. I would not let it be in vain now that the crown had landed on my head. Ill-fitting though it might be.

But the applause suddenly fell away, replaced instead by murmurs and gasps. I saw a few elementals faint away outright. Veyka’s eyes were trained over my shoulder, her luscious lips parted in disbelief.

A chill slid down my spine as I turned to see what was capable of holding the entire court in rapture after the spectacle of the Offering.