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Chapter Thirty-Seven

Sebastian

Half an hour later, Ophelia and Quinn are escorted into the back area of the auditorium under Portia’s watchful eye. Eve is allowed to go with them. It’s still a couple of hours until the ceremony, but we won’t see each other again until I’m seated in the middle of the stage.

I give Ophelia one last kiss, but she’s quiet and tense. Will she miss me once she goes back to her real life? Will it hurt her when she finds out I died so she could go free?

Christ. That makes me sound like a noble warrior giving up his life for his lady, not the asshole who kidnapped her getting what he deserves. It’ll cause her pain, though, and I hate it. She spent years wallowing in misplaced guilt, and now it might be even worse.

I need to keep thinking about Ophelia, to keep worrying about her, because if I think about what’s going to happen to me, my resolve might fall to bits. I close my good eye and take a deep breath. I wanted the bandage off today, but the doctor said no. If I live, it’ll come off tomorrow.

The auditorium stands by itself in a shady clearing, separate from the main street. There’s grass and a few benches, so people waiting for performances or lectures have somewhere to socialize before the show.

I’m glad of the seclusion. Everyone I’ve walked past today has stared at me too long, as if they’re counting the minutes to my demise. It’s a cool, cloudy day, but the damn bandage itches like hell.

Once the girls leave, Jacob and Gabriel settle into gloomy silence. Even without knowing what I told Ophelia, they understand the full weight of what today means. It’s the one day the Brotherhood doesn’t stand to protect its members, but to judge us. The one day we’re truly at risk.

As usual, I’m the first to break the silence. I nudge Gabriel, who jumps. He’d been miles away. “Did you ever doubt Eve would do it? Not before the day, obviously. I mean while you were sitting there, waiting.”

He considers before answering. “Sort of. It wasn’t so much that I thought she’d mess up on purpose. Stripping like that in front of everyone, though. Most women would hate it, but her?” He shakes his head. “It was torture for her. I was worried she’d panic and bolt.”

I turn to Jacob. “What about you? Are you worried?”

“Nope. Quinn’s a brat, but even she won’t fuck this up. I’m looking forward to it.” He grins, and it has a dangerous edge. “I’ve waited a long time to see my tattoo on her. Oh. Shit.” He smacks his head. “I forgot to say. We’re meeting with the tattooist now. It'll be a rush job, but he’s really good. He’ll get it drawn out before the ceremony starts. ”

The tattoo. Fuck. The fucking tattoo. What with losing an eye and my impending doom, I’d forgotten all about it.

“What are you getting?” Gabriel’s question is all innocent curiosity, and I watch as his face slowly shifts to disbelief. “Wait. Please tell me you’ve decided.”

I gesture to my bandaged head. “I’ve had a bit going on.”

Jacob snorts. “I get it, mate, but come on. You could have—”

“Are you fucking serious?” My fists clench. Punching Jacob would come in a strong second on the list of stupidest things I've ever done, but it’s taking everything I have to hold myself back. “She’s not going to go through with it. I’m going to fucking die today, and you’re worried about—”

I take a few paces away, breathing hard, and try to rein myself in. I’m not going to crumble. What happens today is already set, and there’s nothing I or anyone else can do about it. The guys give me a minute, then appear on either side of me. I’m braced for Jacob to tell me what a dickhead I’m being, but it’s Gabriel who speaks.

“Eve thinks Ophelia’s falling for you. They haven’t known each other long, but she’s got good instincts about this sort of thing. She called it with Quinn, and she was right.”

Jacob adds, “And you’re going to look like a proper dick if she does go through with it and you’ve no tattoo to stick on her. Let’s focus on that for now.”

Right. Good advice. Don’t prisoners on death row spend their time doing crosswords and stuff like that? No need to focus on my upcoming head removal. “How did you come up with yours?”

Gabriel shrugs. “It was easy for me. She loved the playing cards I sent her, and it just fit. ”

Of course it was easy for the Compound’s happiest couple. I’m surprised a songbird didn’t whisper the idea into his ear. I turn to Jacob. “And you? Please tell me you struggled.”

“You’re fucking right I did. I had a tattoo all designed for Suzy, a bird in a cage but with the door open. It never fit Quinn, though. You know? I have to give her a firm hand, not coddling. The stamp is perfect. She needs reminding who’s boss.”

I smile at his very accurate assessment of Quinn, but I’m snagged on the tattoo he described. I can picture it. A beautiful blue songbird, caged but free at the same time. An elegant design, and if by some miracle we get to that stage, it would embody Ophelia’s choice to perfection.

I lock eyes with Jacob, who blinks at my no doubt slightly unhinged one-eyed stare. “What?”

“How pissed would you be if I steal your idea?”

He frowns. “The stamp? I wouldn’t care, but Quinn might. Matching tattoos with a friend would be a bit weird.”

“No. The cage.”

His face clears. “Oh. I wouldn’t give two shits about that. Take it if you want.”

Something in me relaxes. It might be the only good decision I’ve made this week, but it feels right.

I spend an hour with the tattooist, who draws up a beautiful design. By the time I venture into the auditorium’s main hall, it’s half full. I have a reserved space at the front, where I can watch Jacob’s ceremony before taking the stage for my own. I’m glad he’s going first. Nothing ruins a special moment like knowing your friend is getting decapitated.

Gabriel is already seated in the front row. As soon as I appear, whispers start, and even though I can’t make them out, the tone is clear. It’s rare for Brothers to fail the ceremony, but it happens. Right before I joined, Gabriel witnessed someone fail. Today, people think it’s a possibility, and weird energy zings through the air. Not bloodlust, exactly. More blood-expectation.

Before I can set out toward my seat, Kendrick materializes from somewhere. I swear the man is a fucking vampire. He claps me on the shoulder—affectionate, for him. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, sir.”

It’s a glib remark, but Kendrick nods solemnly. He takes a minute before he speaks. The room has fallen silent, and I’m sure every single ear is pricked up, trained on our conversation. “You’ve made some foolish decisions, but you’re an asset to the next generation of Brothers. I hope today goes in your favor.”

What the hell am I supposed to say to that? I settle for “Me, too.”

He sighs and disappears backstage. Not exactly a ringing endorsement of my chances.

I take my seat beside Gabriel, and we sit in tense silence as the hall fills. Every Brother, besides those too sick to attend, is here. Their Wards as well. Too soon, the lights dim, and Kendrick takes the stage.

“Welcome, all. It’s wonderful to see you gathered here for our most sacred of occasions. In 1632—”

Kendrick’s history lesson quickly loses my attention, and I nudge Gabriel as he drones on. “Hey. At your ceremony, Jacob and I didn’t look at Eve. It felt wrong. Should we do the same for Quinn?”

Gabriel snorts. “She’s spent the last three months telling everyone how few fucks she gives about being naked. At this point, I think she’ll be offended if we don’t watch.”

He’s got a point. Kendrick finally wraps up his boring introduction, and Jacob takes the stage. The big guy plays it cool, but his movements are jerkier than usual as he sits on the huge, elaborately carved chair in the center of the stage. His face is red, too. He’s stressed.

Kendrick rattles off a brief introduction, then the ceremony kicks off in earnest when Quinn makes her appearance. Even she looks nervous, glancing at the crowd, then settling her eyes on Jacob.

It feels wrong, for a second, seeing her skinny body stripped bare, but my brain soon dismisses it and stops seeing it as weird. My eyes are more drawn to Jacob and the fierce pride on his face. I have no doubt Jacob would slaughter every single human in this building, myself included, for the girl kneeling at his feet. He’d throw himself under a bus for her.

Just like I have for Ophelia.

My chest lurches. Will she give me the chance to show her I care?

Quinn reins in her bratty side long enough to complete the ceremony perfectly. She even keeps silent, Jacob’s hand clutching hers, as the tattoo artist inks the Property of Jacob West stamp onto her inner forearm. Her body trembles from the pain, but she’s brave. How will Ophelia cope with it?

Don’t be stupid. It won’t get that far.

The main ceremony is over, but this time, no one relaxes. At Gabriel’s ceremony the sudden curveball of the extra task threw us all, but this year, both Jacob and I are ready for it. I touch the item in my suit pocket. Funny how I remembered that and not the damn tattoo.

Kendrick steps forward again. “As before, Quinn must complete one final act to prove her loyalty. You are her Patron and her master. Command her, a true test. Prove to your Brothers how devoted your Ward is. Fail to test her, and I’ll instruct her myself. ”

Jacob bends down, and I swear he’s enjoying himself as he says, “Just one simple thing, love. Repeat after me. ‘To show my devotion to the sacred order of the Brotherhood, I swear to deny myself all pleasure for the next thirty days.’”

I can picture Quinn’s outraged expression as he lowers his voice and adds, “That means no orgasms. In case it wasn’t clear.”

Gabriel mutters, “That’s rough. I reckon she’d have rather kissed everyone in the building’s feet.”

I suppress a laugh. Solemn occasion. Impending doom. All that.

Quinn repeats the words, sounding so pissed it almost sets me off again, and then it’s over. Jacob dresses her in the traditional Ward’s robe, which brushes the floor on her, and they sign the book together. It’s done. Jacob’s head is off the chopping block, and I’m about to stretch out my neck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

My whole body shakes as I get to my feet. It’s one thing to talk about going bravely to your death, but what kind of psycho can really do it? My heart thunders against my ribs, and my skin is clammy, covered in sticky sweat.

Fuck.

My breathing grows erratic, and I hope everyone puts my slow pace down to my recent injuries as I force myself to take step after impossible step. This must be what it feels like walking to the electric chair. Sealing your doom one step at a time.

I collapse into the chair. Kendrick’s introduction is quick this time, without his usual flow. Keen to get down to business, one way or the other. Will Ophelia even appear on stage? Or just refuse to walk out? I stare at the door she should enter through. If we’d had more time, maybe I could have made it work. Maybe —

The door swings open. All the quiet background chatter from the crowd cuts out, and the whole room seems to draw in a collective breath. It’s dark, and there’s a flicker of movement in the shadowed entrance. Someone is there. Who—

Ophelia steps out, and she’s all I can see.

The stage lights turn her hair into a shiny midnight river and highlight the soft, beautiful curves of her body. Pink stains her cheeks, and she keeps her eyes down as she carefully walks across the stage, hands clasped in front of her. She doesn’t look at me until she sinks to her knees at my feet.

Her gray eyes meet mine, shiny with emotion, and I’m dying to ask her what the hell she’s doing. I never thought it would get this far. If she’s going to fail the ceremony, why walk across a stage naked? A tiny, unwelcome flutter of hope breaks out of the iron grip I’m trying to maintain, and I can’t put it back.

Maybe. Maybe.

“Brothers and Wards, we welcome Sebastian Grange and his Ward, Ophelia Calder. This is a sacred tradition…”

She’s staying quiet, just like she’s supposed to. Why? Why the fuck is she doing this? Kendrick finishes his spiel and addresses Ophelia. “Ophelia, give thanks to your Patron and swear yourself to him.”

Now. Now is where she’s going to fuck it up. Right now, is the moment she’ll—

“Thank you, Sebastian, for choosing me as your Ward. I am yours, and yours alone, forevermore.”