Page 179 of The Stolen Throne
Reven cocks a brow at me, and I shrug.
In the distance, even fainter than the horns now that we’re inside the temple, I hear the distinct clang, clang, clang of the gates falling over the doors and windows of the palace.
Reven leans over. “We’ll go to your sister as soon as the king’s power goes out.”
Assuming we’re done here. Are the priestesses ever asked to hurry a binding? I’m guessing not. I wish we had more time to really appreciate this moment.
I lean into him to whisper, “What matters is Tabra and Vos are both healed.”
He squeezes my hand.
“Wait here,” the priestess instructs. “I shall bring the member of my order who performs this particular ritual and gather the things we need.”
You would think the extra time would give either one of us the chance for second thoughts to creep in, to back out. It’s not like we’ve been together that long, and much of that has been with us at odds or cross purposes in one way or another. But I’ve never been surer of anything in my entire life.
Surety is a rare thing, I’m starting to realize. So I don’t question this choice. Simply enjoy the anticipation. The way my body, my heart, everything about me is humming with the rightness of what we’re about to do. The part of Reven inside me thrums in tune, with the same utter rightness.
After months apart, and then the time since forcing a distance that was logical but felt all kinds of wrong, that thrumming is beautiful.
He takes both my hands in his and holds them against his chest, forehead to mine again. And we just stand that way together.
Two priestesses walk into the room then. The new one dressed in purple silk looks us up and down. She is carrying a simple box made of wood with no carvings. The one who left us here is carrying a book. I’ve never seen a soul-binding ritual performed. No one has, other than the couple and the priestesses who perform it. This should be interesting.
I lift my head to Reven, smile already curling my lips. I can’t seem to stop doing that. “Ready?”
He frames my face with his hands. “I don’t deserve you.” If I had any doubts left, which I don’t, the quietly uttered words would have banished them. My Shadowraith is so serious. Then he grins, expression taking on a wickedly teasing glint. The true Reven. “But who am I to question the wisdom of the goddesses?”
My amulet warms against my skin again like before, a spark as if she’s in agreement.
I laugh.
Reven sobers again, fingers tightening in my hair. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell the others first? I’m pretty sure they’re not going to like it.”
Understatement. And exactly why we should tell them afterward. “Do you remember the first thing I ever said to you? In person, I mean.”
He cocks his head and thinks. “You said, I am no one.”
He really does remember me from that very first time he cornered me in Enora. He’d heard my whispered plea to escape my life and had come to save another stranger calling out for him. That was before he discovered the girl in Enora was the princess he kidnapped.
“The second thing, then.”
His shoulders shake with a silent chuckle. “You said that you do as you please.”
I lift up on tiptoe and drop a kiss on his chin. “Yes, I do.”
When it comes to this, to us, it’s not up for debate by committee. It’s not for my friends or family to weigh in on. It’s mine. He’s mine.
76
What the Goddesses
Join Together
The priestesses work hand in hand, laying the box and the book on the table and opening each. The one with the book nods at the other, and she beckons to us with a smile.
“This ritual is…” She purses her lips. “Let’s just say it’s specific.”
Sounds concerning.
