“You are not just chosen to join Everton, Eden. You are chosen for a reason, to become a wife to one of the Divine’s Vessels.”
My throat becomes dry. I try to swallow, but it only makes it worse. It feels like sandpaper.
To become a wife to one of the Divine’s Vessels.
To become a wife to one of the Divine’s Vessels.
“To bemywife.”
Without thinking, I recoil.
“Please come. Join me.” He extends his hand, and I take it shakily.
The whole time, my mind is screaming for me to refuse.
I don’t know how to process what he just said. The neurons in my brain haven’t truly absorbed the magnitude of the situation. My body, on the other hand, is trying to debate on two things. Run or throw up. I might do both.
But I stay, holding the hand of my big brother. The big brother who saved me years ago, the one that just told me I am going to be his bride.
What. The. Fuck.
I don’t even want to ask the Divine for forgiveness this time around for my crude language because this is the only appropriate reaction.
“Please. Open the box.”
I jump at his voice, lost in my own swirling thoughts.
When my focus is brought back to him, his face is like stone, and a fire in his eyes only enhances his command.
Looking blankly at him, I’m unable to remember what he just said.
“Open the box, Eden.” He nods to the box.
My trembling hand opens the white pearlescent top, rattling the lid as I remove it sloppily. It finally pops off, and I stand there, looking at the contents.
It is the same knife Samuel used on Kameron days ago during the new member ceremony. The blade looks even sharper this close up. The handle looks like carved marblestone etched with the symbol for Everton. I wonder who would have been skilled enough to be able to carve that into stone. The way the swirls of the crest look effortless.
I run my fingertips over it, admiring the craftsmanship.
“Take the blade in your hand.”
I follow his orders, not knowing what else to do, mostly because there is nothing else Icando.
The blade is heavier than I expected. Maybe it’s the color or the thinness of the blade that made me think it would be light. But the weight helped to control my shakiness, stabilizing it enough to hopefully not be noticeable to everyone in the crowd.
“I will need you to repeat after me. Come closer.” His words are soft, unlike his grip, as he pulls me closer to him. “‘With the Holy Aqua, I surrender my soul.’”
“With the Holy Aqua, I s-surrender my s-soul.”
I can’t help the way I trip on my words.
Samuel brings the stone bowl to my lips. “Open.” He tilts it enough that I have no choice but to drink down the blessed water in it. “Good, Eden. Very good.” He whispers low so that I’m the only one who hears it. His eyes burn into mine as he watches my mouth swallow down the liquid. Louder for everyone to hear, he says, “‘With this blade, I create the bond.’”
My eyes grow wide at the words, the weight of the blade in my hand more noticeable.
“With this blade, I create the bond.”
“Louder,” he commands, bringing the hand holding the blade to his face.
