Page 73 of Given

But I was willing to bet Petru felt worse.

“I am your king,” I said. “If you ever call me boy again, I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to you.”

His face was purple now. Sweat beaded his forehead.

My voice rippled across the temple as I continued. “I understand power well enough. The gods gave me an abundance of it. I can only assume they want me to use it. Now attend me or I’ll do the rite by myself.”

The room itself seemed to hold its breath. Almost imperceptibly, Petru nodded.

“Rem.” I released his throat. The other priests caught him before he could hit the floor. I watched him cough and gulp in air. Eventually, he recovered enough to stand on his own. He straightened his robes, a slight tremor in his hands. When one of the priests tried to help, Petru waved him off, then gestured both men sharply forward.

“Prepare the altar,” he said hoarsely. As they moved away to do his bidding, his gaze settled on me. There was shock and wariness in the dark depths…and maybe something that might have been sadness.

“You’ve been a good teacher,” I told him quietly. “I would not be the king I am today without your guidance.” I squared my shoulders. “But I am not my father. My mother’s blood runs thick in my veins. You would do well to remember it, old friend.”

He lowered his gaze. “None of us are too old to learn lessons, Your Grace.”

Emotion welled. Regret, maybe.

I pushed it away. I was my mother’s son, yes, but I’d learned a few things from my father before he lost himself to his demons. “The crown is heavy,” he used to say. As a child, I thought he was complaining. If it’s so tiresome, I’d think, just remove it. Now I knew what he meant. The crown never leaves a king’s head.

One of the priests approached, his eyes downcast. “We are ready, Your Grace.”

I went to the altar. Now, a bleached white skull sat among dozens of candles, each one dripping red onto the shiny black obsidian. I knelt, my robe puddling on the floor. The skull grinned down at me, candlelight casting shadows over its prominent fangs. The temple floor was also obsidian—black and unforgiving. But a cushion was out of the question. If I wanted to transcend the mortal realm, I had to leave all of its comforts behind.

Whispers of movement behind me. The priests’ robes stirred the air as they placed large golden bowls on either side of my knees. One of the men rounded me and touched my shoulders.

“May I, Your Grace?”

I nodded, and he pulled my robe away, leaving me nude once more.

Petru stepped between me and the altar. The other priest moved to his side and proffered the small bowl of blood. Petru dipped his fingertips and lifted his hand. Blood slid down his wrist and dripped onto the floor. This time, the others didn’t wipe it away. The gods knew there would be plenty more on the obsidian before the night was through.

Petru’s voice echoed through the temple. “Who approaches the gods?”

“Laurent of Nor Doru,” I said. “I come as I am, in awe and humility.”

With his thumb, he drew a line of blood down the center of my forehead. Then he painted another stripe across my bottom lip. “You are a son of the gods.” He dipped his fingers again and dragged his thumb down the middle of my chest, over my heart. “Speak and hope to be heard.”

I extended my arms, my wrists turned up with my hands over the bowls. “I offer the Rite of Destru.”

The candles danced wildly, their flames tossed by an invisible breeze. Petru moved away, and the other priests knelt on either side of me. Each held a dagger.

From somewhere behind me, Petru said, “We begin.”

I tipped my head back and closed my eyes.

The priests sliced my arms from elbow to wrist.

Chapter Twenty-Three

GIVEN

The morning dawned bright, the muted sun of Nor Doru doing its best to melt the snow the kingdom had received overnight. The rooftops of Lar Katerin sparkled under the cheery light, looking like a giant had frosted them with a thick coat of icing.

It was beautiful, but I avoided the balcony. The servants gave me odd looks when I asked them to build up my fire. Despite soaking in the bath like Varick instructed, the chill from the night before still lingered in my bones.

I dressed quickly and dismissed the women as soon as I could. Right now, I needed to be alone so I could think.

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