Page 53 of A Dance Macabre

Or maybe it’s the fact that Wolfgang hasn’t touched me once since we’ve stepped into the public eye. Not even the skin of his fingertips has grazed my dress, and I’m deeply embarrassed to admit that maybe the feeling of his touch could help ease some of my discomfort.

Constantine’s father turns to face her, presenting her with a red jeweled ceremonial dagger, and kisses her softly on the head before she takes it from his hands with reverence. It’s a small but important moment between them—of power being transferred to the next generation.

Dressed in all gold, her appearance is just as startling as mine without her signature color. Her dress is less intricate than mine but just as beautiful, the afternoon rays glimmering against the satin. Finally, she begins to walk toward us in small assured steps, the dagger now resting on a small velvet cushion atop the flat of her palms, two small empty vials on either side of it.

“Hi,” Constantine whispers excitedly when she’s taken her last step, now standing between the two of us, Wolfgang facing me.

I don’t bother to answer, my stomach in knots.

Constantine’s expression turns into something slightly more serious, her eyes bouncing from me to Wolfgang, whose gaze I’m still avoiding. She tilts her head, her blonde hair falling off her shoulder, as if in thought. Finally, she holds the dagger in my direction, still resting on the ceremonial cushion.

“Here,” she says innocently.

My eyebrows lift in surprise before knotting in confusion.

“Here what, Tinny? You’re the one overseeing this ritual,” I answer just low enough for only the three of us to hear.

Her smile returns, this time with a lot more mischief. “My ritual, my rules. You’ll collect Wolfgang’s blood and he’ll do the same to you.”

This time I don’t avoid Wolfgang’s gaze, his steely eyes clashing with mine. I swallow a hard lump in my throat, my stomach in knots now that his full attention is on me. He seems just as taken aback as I am.

“This isn’t how the ritual goes,” he says, his gaze slicing back to hers.

Constantine shrugs, still holding the cushion. “We’ve never had co-rulers before. We are already breaking tradition by having two families celebrated today.” She holds up the cushion toward me again. “Why not create our own?”

She looks up to the sky.

And I’m sure everyone in attendance follows Constantine’s line of vision.

It’s why we’ve all congregated outside of Mount Pravitia in the first place.

A small sliver of darkness stains the sun—a shadow slowly growing in size until eventually, it will engulf the sun like a dragon swallowing a ball of fire.

“Enough of your dilly-dallying, the eclipse is starting. We don’t have much time,” she urges.

My gaze falls back to Wolfgang, his expression unyielding, but he gives me a small nod while he pushes the sleeve of his double-breasted gold suit up to reveal his left wrist. My heart flutters at the implication, and I swallow hard.

I reach for the cool ivory handle of the dagger. The shadows of the eclipsing sun dance over the blade as if urging me on.

I turn to face Wolfgang as day slowly turns into night. The crowd grows quiet, but for once I’m barely aware of it, myattention solely focused on my fingers curling around his wrist. My skin is electric from finally touching him after this long, my heart fluttering in my chest like an animated bird.

I press the blade against his skin but before drawing blood, I lift my eyes to his. They burn. My fingers squeeze harder around his arm. The blade breaks the skin. I continue to burn under his glare. His lip twitches as if in pain, and I finally look down at the blood slowly pooling around the tip of the blade.

His life force.

I emulsify into a flaming ball of lust at the sight.

Trying to keep my expression calm and steady, I hand Constantine the dagger and she gives me a vial in exchange. Wolfgang lifts his arm over it, opening and closing his fist to make the blood flow faster. Drop by drop, it falls into the glass vial and with every drip I am reminded how it felt to taste it on my own dagger’s blade.

Unusually decadent and laced with animalistic desire.

Wolfgang’s blown pupils tell me he might be recalling the same memory. I never told him how good his blood tasted, but seeing me react to it seemed to have had a similar effect on him.

When the vial is full, he staunches the bleeding with his pocket square before taking the offered dagger and wiping the blade clean.

By the time Wolfgang’s hand touches the thin skin of my wrist, the sun is but a black orb. Darkness has cloaked the city in hushed silence.

It only lasts a few seconds. Just long enough for Wolfgang to whisperMy terrible demiseunder his breath and for me to feel the welcomed pain of my blood set free, the blade warm against my skin. I can’t help but let out a satisfied sigh as I track Wolfgang’s tongue sliding slowly over his bottom lip. Night turns back to day while I hold my wrist over the vial, my blood pooling slowly into it.

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