The King

Blood Ceremony

It is the night of the bonding ceremony. The whole country gathered around the city for the event. They lit up the streets with vendors and items to be sold to those who are in attendance. Larkin waits by the stairs with his Morris, watching the full moon glow a bright yellow.

“Nervous?” Morris asks.

“No, “ he lies, and his friend sees right through it.

He has been going through the motions ever since he asked Carissa. He hasn’t been fully content, but he knows it is good for everyone involved. Still, he can’t get rid of a twinge in his heart thinking maybe this shouldn’t happen. It was the wrong thought to have at this moment, and it is likely just nerves.

He hasn’t seen her at all today. He has only heard news of her through the gossip of women in court. They say she was happy to hear his proposal, even though it was unnecessary. They were going to get married with or without it, but now it means so much more that they are in this together, and they are. Now they are in this together and are committed to making this work not just for the alliance in war, but as partners. As king and queen.

“This is the easy part,” Morris says. “It only gets harder from here. “

The click of heels descending on the stairs echoes in the space. They see people holding tall candlesticks to guide Carissa in the dim staircase. She is adorned with crystals and pale lace designs of crescents and flowers. Her dress and hair trail down her back, falling off the stairs like a pool of water.

Larkin's eyes are frozen like stars in the sky, staring at her. She reaches a sheer gloved hand out for his arm, but he doesn’t move.

Her mouth is covered with a thin lace holding white dangling jewels, but her eyes look sultry. He raises his arm to meet hers, and together they step outside.

He can’t see the people; instead, they were replaced with lights that look like constellations. The music plays, and the lights reveal a pathway. They walk it, looking at the darkly cast faces that watch or shout their congratulations and praises. Presents were cast on their feet, later to be collected by his guards and beggars.

They stride down the road to the Martoth temple. The doors are already open, blue candles circling the spot where they are to complete the ceremony. The shaman stands by, bowing his head to them and then gesturing for them to step forward.

“Kneel and eat from the bowl of divinity.”

They kneel together and grab a dried purple leaf from the bowl. It tastes bitter in their mouth, but they swallow. The man guides their hand to one another's and starts to chant:

In the watch of the stars

And our kingdom's children

Two houses join as one

blood intertwines to create one

Mind and spirit work as the same

Now forever blessed and bonded in your journey

He repeats these words as he wraps a red ribbon around their wrist. They aren’t able to avoid their skin pressing together. Her skin feels cool and soft: he squeezes it gently. Larkin knows by the way her head lowered that she is blushing.

They stand up and walk out with their hands still locked in ribbon. They start their steady climb back up the hill, and the audience starts singing the lyrics of the slow-beat hymn. In the excitement of their climb, people have stepped out of line to shake hands and kiss their cheeks despite the guards' warnings to stay back. Carissa accepts their well wishes with light laughs and thank you’s, and in turn gives Larkin the confidence to bid them the same.

When they reach the castle, they stand in front of the citizens, holding up their ribboned, tied hands in triumph. The crowd's singing is louder and faster in tempo as some erupt into cheers and hollers. The formalities of the ritual are easing into a more entertaining celebration. The streets clog with entertainers of all kinds and cries of people looking on with joy.

Larkin feels the tug of the ribbon as Carissa is pulled into a circle of people dancing. They lift their hands and put them down on each beat. The small circle starts to become a long line that travels through the groups.

Larkin catches a glimpse of his father's grinning face outside the train of people before he disappears behind the doors. He has no time to stop, as he is already being pulled to the next thing.

Tables full of drinks, meat, and dessert sit out for them to enjoy. The citizens have also brought their own food and are passing it around. Larkin and Carissa are only allowed to eat the plates the courts prepared for them after they taste the food themselves, but others were clever enough to sneak them past the guards, and Carissa happily tried every one of them.

They sit there eating, and Larkin feels he is finally getting enough time to breathe and relax.

“It is beautiful tonight, this whole thing…” Carrissa says softly.

“Yes.”

“It must be nice to go to these."

“I have actually never gone to anything like this. It is not common.”

“Why not?”

Larkin shrugs his shoulders.

“I don’t know.” He says, “But I am enjoying myself. It is nice.”

Carissa smiles and picks up a strawberry, holding it up to his lips. His eyes slightly widen with surprise, but her grin eases all his anxieties. He bites down into it, the juices running down his chin, only for her to catch it in the palm of her hand. He watches it trickle down her skin and then quickly grabs her wrist, catching it before it stains her laced sleeve. Her eyes flutter at him with admiration as he wipes the juices on his own robes.

After they eat and enjoy the splendor of the crowd, midnight is nearing. They walk back to the entrance, untying their joined hands.

“This was the best night of my life,” she says. “And I know marriage will only be sweeter.”

She kisses him, holding in the words that were about to leave his mouth. He is too stunned… too touched to say anything to convey how she is making him feel right now. His eyes dart back and forth between her eyes and her lips.

“Sleep well, Larkin. See you in my dreams.” She kisses his cheek, adding further insult to his modesty. He allows a smile to slip as she walks back up to the stairs.

His low breath mixes in with the cool night. For once, he feels glad and without worry of calling Carissa his.

His ears perk from a shrill scream in the night. Upon looking up, a light travels across the sky. It explodes into sparks that rain down little flickering fire, illuminating the citizens in brilliant color. Their awe is met with cheers and hollers, watching it fizzle into nothing. His smile grows wider as more ignite.

Then, his eyes catch on a figure over on the terrace. His father stands there, face looking deep in concentration as he watches the fireworks. Larkin stands wordlessly, only holding up his hand as if to wave, which does catch his father's attention somehow. He smiles at his father, but he only returns it with a hint of it, as if to say all is well. In the explosions of light, Larkin is starting to realize that it may not be true, because his father doesn’t appear to be the only one in the room.

Larkin's smile slowly fades as he tries to figure out the dark figure that is approaching. It takes him a while to see the glimmer of a sword that it wields. His mouth opens to shout a warning, but the loud blast of fireworks and cheers cancels out his voice. By the time he goes to shout again, the sword has already run through his father's chest.

Without a moment of hesitation, his feet take off up the stairs of the castle, bursting through the door and up another set of spiral staircases, not even realizing he has passed Carissa, who calls after him. By the time his feet hit the 6th story, his legs and chest are burning. He does not cease until he bursts open his father's bedroom door.

The fireworks are still going off overhead, but something in the door blocks the light from getting in. Still trying to catch his breath, he can’t bring himself to say anything. He has nothing to fight off the assassin. A darkness emanated from the person that can not only be seen surrounding his body, but also in the ambiance, spreading like spores.

The person can sense his presence, too. He turns his head to look at Larkin. It was not a person at all. His body goes stiff, watching the maddened red eyes of his father's murderer. A face he has heard stories of, he has seen paintings of those glowing, unfeeling eyes in ancient text. He has seen them in his dreams. The Demon King. The dark king, and he stood before him with a grin and a sword dripping with his father's blood.

Carissa's voice calls him from the hallway, and as he looks to try and warn her of danger, the thing has already disappeared.