Elijah only imparted the knowledge needed to act on his visions, rarely divulging anything more. Knowing the future was a tricky thing. Elijah often told them too much information could alter the future in a negative way.
“The Ordination Ceremony for a Death Dealer is probably the most important celebration in our culture. You’ve trained all of your life for this moment. Passed all of your tests and been acquitted of all the charges against you. It is difficult, and not without regret, that I ask you to give up that privilege.”
Jackson shot from his seat. “No way, Elijah. You agree with this, Father?” He paced back and forth in the small seating area, crammed his hands into his hair, squeezed his head between them in a desperate search for patience. “I will not give up being a Death Dealer. I’ve trained my whole life for this moment.”
“No, no, no.” Elijah stepped in front of Jackson, effectively stopping his tirade. “Please, hear me out.”
Jackson waited. The pounding of his heart hammered through his head. “Spit it out, Elijah. I’m fast running out of patience.”
“Ahem.” King Maynard rose to his full height. “I will not tolerate this, Jackson. Take your seat and listen to Elijah.”
Jackson wrestled a string of profanities under control. He bit his tongue hard enough to leave the taste of blood in his mouth. Then, he flopped back onto the love seat and folded his arms over his chest.
The King turned to his advisor. “Elijah, everyone makes mistakes, you’ve been forgiven, now get over it, and speak your mind.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” Elijah perched on the edge of his seat and leaned toward Jackson. “I’m sorry, Prince Jackson. I didn’t mean to imply you wouldn’t be a Death Dealer. You completed the course faster and with higher marks than anyone in history. I simply meant…” He blew out a breath. “I want you to give up the public ceremony. I would like to ordain you here and now, in the presence of your father—your king—with the princess as your witness.”
Relief slowed the racing of his heart. “What about Kai?”
“It would be best if only the four of us were present.” Elijah lowered his gaze.
Jackson turned his attention to his father. “But Kai is my trainer, my mentor, your second in command. He’s supposed to relinquish the title to me, supposed to stand for me as my witness.” Jackson would be a little disappointed not to have the entire Kingdom share in his accomplishments, but he’d get over it. Kai was a different matter. “Kai stood by me when I had no one else.”
If he hadn’t been looking directly into his father’s eyes, he might have missed the quick flash of hurt at the reminder. When the queen had died, King Maynard had become so focused on his thirst for revenge, he’d forgotten all about his sons.
Kai had stepped in and filled that void.
“I’m sorry, Jackson. There is no other way.”
Could he accept these terms? Kai should have been at his side. “Could your vision be wrong? Is there any possibility you misinterpreted what you saw?” The questions were eerily reminiscent of the situation with Ryleigh, but this time no gut instinct screamed at him that Elijah was wrong. If anything, the opposite was true.
Lately, Kai had been acting strange.
Jackson didn’t know what to make of his odd behavior. There was obviously a traitor among his people, but it couldn’t be Kai.
“No. I don’t know what the future holds this time.”
Jackson appreciated Elijah’s honesty. It was a huge concession for Elijah to tell them that much.
“I do, however, know you must be ordained immediately. And privately.” Fear filled the prophet’s eyes. “There’s something coming, Jackson. I don’t know what, though I will meditate on it as soon as we’ve finished here, but I have a strong feeling it’s not good. Not immediately, anyway.” Elijah furrowed his brow, but didn’t elaborate further.
Jackson only examined the seer’s expression a moment longer before nodding his head in agreement.
Kai would be furious, but then again, wasn’t he already? There wasn’t too much more Jackson could do to earn his mentor’s disapproval. Ah well. He’d have to make amends later.
Elijah prepared for the ceremony. His hands were rock steady now. No hint of the habitually nervous man remained in the confident prophet. He knew his duty, performed it with exemplary courage and strength, he was simply very timid.
Jackson took a deep breath and turned to face Ryleigh.
She stared back at him, eyes wide.
He squatted down in front of her and took her hand in his.
Sparks ignited.
He didn’t pull back.
Neither did she.
“Are you really going to go through with this?” She spoke before he had a chance, but her angry whisper confused him.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I? A public ceremony isn’t what’s important to me.”
“I’m not talking about the ceremony. I’m talking about becoming a Death Dealer.”
“Why wouldn’t I become a Death Dealer? I’ve trained for hundreds of years for this role.” Some of his confusion turned to anger. She was leaving anyway, who did she think she was to question his choices?
“So you still plan to kidnap humans and enslave them for your own purposes?” She vibrated with anger.
Relief softened some of his mounting temper.
“Death Dealers don’t only kidnap humans, as you put it—”
“Well, what else would you call killing men and transferring them against their will to a realm they don’t belong in? Since we have no experience with that, I guess we haven’t come up with a name for it.”
Her sarcasm stung. “Look, Ryleigh, you don’t understand. Death Dealers have many other responsibilities. A Death Dealer is responsible for the protection of our Kingdom. We are kind of like a Special Forces unit. I’m a soldier. I can’t change what I am, nor do I want to. I defend and protect my Kingdom. It’s an honor I don’t take lightly.” When she would have interrupted again, he held his hand up in protest. “Please, hear me out.”
She clamped her mouth closed and folded her arms across her chest.
“I do, however, think we need to change our ways. It’s wrong to enslave humans, or anyone. We need to re-think our strategy, find a new way to ensure the safety of Cymmera.” He glanced over his shoulder to see his father and Elijah involved in their preparations. “I will work to change things, Ryleigh.” He squeezed her hand. “I would like to do it with you at my side.”
Her eyes widened. “I…Jackson…”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to make any kind of decisions right this minute. Elijah was right. Changes are definitely coming, but I think we have time to work out all of the details. Besides, I must be ordained. During the Ordination Ceremony the mark of the King will appear on King Maynard’s permanent successor. Without that mark, I can’t assume the throne if something happens to my father. If that’s even my destiny. Who knows at this point?” At one time he would have had no doubt the mark would appear. Now. Who knew?
A chill ran through him. Is that what Elijah’s vision had foretold? He tamped down the thought, couldn’t bear to think of King Maynard’s death. His father’s death.
“Ryleigh, witnessing the Ordination Ceremony of a Death Dealer is a huge responsibility as well as an honor. It is a privilege usually reserved for your mentor. If he is unavailable for some reason, a close family member may be used. I would be extremely honored if you would stand beside me as my witness.”
She hesitated for only a moment. Shifted her gaze to the king, then Elijah, and back to Jackson. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.” Surprise made him smile. He was sure. “I’m positive. Will you do it?”
A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “What do I have to do?”
“Come on, I’ll show you.” He led her to the small round table where Elijah worked diligently. “We’re ready, Elijah, King Maynard.”
He bowed his head to each of them and waited for instructions.
“Thank you for participating, Ryleigh. This is the traditional attire for the Ordination Ceremony.” Elijah handed her a small bundle. “Would you do me the honor?”
“Of course. Thank you, Elijah.” He escorted her to a small dressing room and returned to Jackson.
“Please, take your place. We must prepare.” Elijah moved to stand beside King Maynard at the small round table.
Jackson stood across from him.
Two thick candles, one purple and one white, stood unlit atop a red satin cloth in the center of the table. Elijah took a pinch of ash—the remains of an ancient Death Dealer—from a leather satchel. He murmured softly as he sprinkled it over each of the candles then replaced the satchel in an elaborately carved wooden box.
King Maynard handed Elijah a small jar.
He dipped his thumb into the aromatic oil and marked a line down the center of each candle from top to bottom.
Jackson removed his shirt and tossed it aside.
Elijah moved around the table until they stood side by side. Together, they bowed to their King. Turned to face each other.
Elijah raised the jar before Jackson, dipped his thumb once more, and drew a line down the center of Jackson’s chest.
Elijah lifted his gaze, and it fell on something over Jackson’s shoulder. “We are ready to begin.”
Jackson turned to look behind him and sucked in a breath.
Ryleigh emerged from the dressing room clothed in the traditional, deep purple, ceremonial gown of his people. The gauzy material flowed down her body and into a train behind her. White beading formed an x between her breasts then continued in straps over her shoulders. An intricately woven purple and black choker adorned her neck. She was stunning.
She held her trembling lip between her teeth.
He reached toward her.
A smile spread across her face as she approached him.
“You’re so beautiful.”
She lowered her gaze. A deep blush colored her cheeks. “Thank you.”
Jackson turned with her to face the table.
Elijah and King Maynard stood opposite them.
“Let us begin.” Elijah clapped his hands together once, rubbed them back and forth and opened them to reveal a small flame. He cradled the flickering glow in his hand and lifted the white candle from the table beside him. He held the wick to the flame, lit it, and handed it to Ryleigh. He then repeated the process using the purple candle and handed it to Jackson. “Follow me.”
He moved to a long, rectangular ceremonial table he’d already prepared. Two circles made from small gemstones interlocked in the center. “Jackson, place your candle in the center of this circle, please.” He indicated the circle he’d created from diamonds then directed Ryleigh to place her candle in the ring of amethyst.
The soft glow of the flames lit Ryleigh’s profile as she positioned her candle beside Jackson’s. She was beautiful, delicate, and yet possessed amazing strength. She would never stay here, not even if she desperately wanted to, not without Mia. She would sacrifice anything for her younger sister.
It was a quality he found so attractive, yet at the moment, it was completely frustrating him. Shame washed over him. Was he so selfish he would be angry with her for putting her sister’s needs ahead of his, ahead of her own?
Ryleigh stepped back from the table and took her place at Jackson’s side.
He grasped her hand.
She looked up at him, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Perhaps, he was forgiven.
Jackson turned his back to the table, released Ryleigh’s hand, and lowered himself to one knee.
King Maynard approached and stood facing his son then took a small, red satin bundle from Elijah. He unwrapped the jewel encrusted, ceremonial dagger, wrapped the handle in the scrap of satin and lifted it over his head.
Elijah held open an ancient tome, the pages brittle and yellowed with age. He moved to stand behind Jackson. Elijah’s low chant filled the chamber, echoed off the stone walls, reverberated through Jackson’s head, filled his heart to nearly bursting.
Jackson bowed his head and closed his eyes.
His father lowered the blade, pressed it flat against the top of Jackson’s head.
Another man’s voice merged with Elijah’s, though no one had entered the chamber. The volume of the chanting increased, intensified, as more and more voices joined in.
Jackson tensed.
His father raised the blade from Jackson’s head.
The time had come. Jackson stood to face him. Would the ancient’s accept him as a Death Dealer? Would they recognize him as the future King? Anticipation weighed heavily, a physical pressure on his chest.
Jackson met his father’s gaze, held it, found only confidence there.
King Maynard lashed out quickly with the dagger, using a backhanded stroke to open a deep gash across Jackson’s right bicep.
Ryleigh gasped.
Blood flowed. It poured in small rivulets down Jackson’s arm and hand. His arm began to tingle. Rays of light poured from the wound, intensified as they began to weave themselves together, entwining with the lines of blood to form an intricate design. A cocoon of light surrounded Jackson, shrouding him in a halo of illumination.
The incision began to burn. A line of intense pain scorched his bicep, traveled up to his shoulder. The burn continued down the back of his shoulder as it wove a pattern to match that of the light.
The light enveloped him, lifted him from the ground. The weightlessness startled him, caught him off guard, though he should have known what to expect. He’d witnessed the Death Dealer Ordination Ceremony enough times, always waiting impatiently for the day it would be his turn.
He hung suspended in the air as the tribal design continued to form around his upper arm and shoulder, down and around the right side of his back. A primal mark that branded every Death Dealer. While they were all similar in design, each had characteristics of its own to indicate the nature of its owner.
The tempo of the chanting increased with the volume. A hundred voices joined.
The pain intensified. His back arched. He lifted his arms out to the sides, elbows bent, palms up, beseeching the ancients to guide him on his journey, to give him the strength he’d need to fulfill his calling.
With one last vicious sting across his bicep, his stomach heaved, and he fell to the floor. The light dimmed, faded.
Ryleigh reached for him. As she grabbed his hand to help him up, one ray of light intensified. It climbed up her arm. She tried to pull her hand away.
Jackson released her.
The light did not.
Her face etched with fear, and pain. “Make it stop. What’s happening?”
“Elijah?” Jackson looked on, helpless to stop it. He turned to the prophet. “Elijah can you stop this? What have you done?”
“I’ve done nothing, My Prince. It is simply what will be.”
The light dimmed, faded, flickered out.
Elijah stood stunned, mouth agape.
King Maynard stood stone faced.
Ryleigh looked down at her arm and gasped. “No.”
Her small cry tore through Jackson.
Chapter 9
Ryleigh scrubbed her arm. The burning had stopped, but the mark remained. “What have you done? Get this off of me.” No use. No matter how hard she rubbed, it wasn’t coming off.
A thin, intricately woven, tribal design laced around her bicep. The tattoo, deep purple and white intertwined lines, was beautiful. Had it only been decorative, she might even have considered keeping it. But nothing in this world was just decorative. Everything seemed to mean something, symbolize something. She assumed the mark that had appeared on Jackson’s arm, black lines with a red slash through the center, was the symbol of the Death Dealer. Although she had no clue if he wore the mark of the King.
She s
tudied her own mark. A brief flicker of curiosity tried to surface, but she tamped it down. She did not want to know.
King Maynard was the first to recover. “Calm down, Ryleigh—”
“Calm down? Calm down. Are you freakin’ kidding me?”
The small flicker of a smile tugged at his mouth, and a sparkle lit his dark eyes.
“What’s so funny?”
Jackson started to wheeze at her side.
She ignored him.
“I am so not amused.” She couldn’t rein in the anger.
The King let loose a roar of laughter. He tried to speak, but the laughter choked him.
Ryleigh folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot against the floor. “Any time you’re done laughing, would you care to explain this?”
He nodded but only laughed harder. If the laughter didn’t strangle him soon, she would.
Shock held Jackson frozen, his mouth open. Great.
Elijah intervened. “Please, cal…umm…” Her glare stopped him.
“Do not tell me to calm down.”
“All right.”
King Maynard snorted, wrestling his laughter under control.
Jackson finally closed his mouth.
Elijah tried again. “It’s nothing bad.”
Okay, that was a better start than calm down. Ryleigh inhaled deeply, struggled to leash her anger. “I’m listening.”
“You simply bear the mark of a Princess.” He shrugged. “We already knew that, so it’s not all that big a deal. Right?”
Hmmm…Maybe that was all right. She examined the tattoo. It was elaborate, but quite delicate. A number of very thin purple lines all woven together and adorned with white flowers. “Is that all it means?”
“Uh…well…pretty much.”
“Pretty much?” She raised an eyebrow and waited. That tactic had sometimes worked on Mia, and since these men were acting like a group of unruly children, she hoped it would be effective.
Elijah stepped forward. She’d expected him to cave first.
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