Page 73
Story: Given
But I was willing to bet Petru felt worse.
“I am your king,” I said. “If you ever call me boy again, I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to you.”
His face was purple now. Sweat beaded his forehead.
My voice rippled across the temple as I continued. “I understand power well enough. The gods gave me an abundance of it. I can only assume they want me to use it. Now attend me or I’ll do the rite by myself.”
The room itself seemed to hold its breath. Almost imperceptibly, Petru nodded.
“Rem.” I released his throat. The other priests caught him before he could hit the floor. I watched him cough and gulp in air. Eventually, he recovered enough to stand on his own. He straightened his robes, a slight tremor in his hands. When one of the priests tried to help, Petru waved him off, then gestured both men sharply forward.
“Prepare the altar,” he said hoarsely. As they moved away to do his bidding, his gaze settled on me. There was shock and wariness in the dark depths…and maybe something that might have been sadness.
“You’ve been a good teacher,” I told him quietly. “I would not be the king I am today without your guidance.” I squared my shoulders. “But I am not my father. My mother’s blood runs thick in my veins. You would do well to remember it, old friend.”
He lowered his gaze. “None of us are too old to learn lessons, Your Grace.”
Emotion welled. Regret, maybe.
I pushed it away. I was my mother’s son, yes, but I’d learned a few things from my father before he lost himself to his demons. “The crown is heavy,” he used to say. As a child, I thought he was complaining. If it’s so tiresome, I’d think, just remove it. Now I knew what he meant. The crown never leaves a king’s head.
One of the priests approached, his eyes downcast. “We are ready, Your Grace.”
I went to the altar. Now, a bleached white skull sat among dozens of candles, each one dripping red onto the shiny black obsidian. I knelt, my robe puddling on the floor. The skull grinned down at me, candlelight casting shadows over its prominent fangs. The temple floor was also obsidian—black and unforgiving. But a cushion was out of the question. If I wanted to transcend the mortal realm, I had to leave all of its comforts behind.
Whispers of movement behind me. The priests’ robes stirred the air as they placed large golden bowls on either side of my knees. One of the men rounded me and touched my shoulders.
“May I, Your Grace?”
I nodded, and he pulled my robe away, leaving me nude once more.
Petru stepped between me and the altar. The other priest moved to his side and proffered the small bowl of blood. Petru dipped his fingertips and lifted his hand. Blood slid down his wrist and dripped onto the floor. This time, the others didn’t wipe it away. The gods knew there would be plenty more on the obsidian before the night was through.
Petru’s voice echoed through the temple. “Who approaches the gods?”
“Laurent of Nor Doru,” I said. “I come as I am, in awe and humility.”
With his thumb, he drew a line of blood down the center of my forehead. Then he painted another stripe across my bottom lip. “You are a son of the gods.” He dipped his fingers again and dragged his thumb down the middle of my chest, over my heart. “Speak and hope to be heard.”
I extended my arms, my wrists turned up with my hands over the bowls. “I offer the Rite of Destru.”
The candles danced wildly, their flames tossed by an invisible breeze. Petru moved away, and the other priests knelt on either side of me. Each held a dagger.
From somewhere behind me, Petru said, “We begin.”
I tipped my head back and closed my eyes.
The priests sliced my arms from elbow to wrist.
Chapter Twenty-Three
GIVEN
The morning dawned bright, the muted sun of Nor Doru doing its best to melt the snow the kingdom had received overnight. The rooftops of Lar Katerin sparkled under the cheery light, looking like a giant had frosted them with a thick coat of icing.
It was beautiful, but I avoided the balcony. The servants gave me odd looks when I asked them to build up my fire. Despite soaking in the bath like Varick instructed, the chill from the night before still lingered in my bones.
I dressed quickly and dismissed the women as soon as I could. Right now, I needed to be alone so I could think.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73 (Reading here)
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107