Page 223 of A Dagger of Ice and Intrigue
“This realm, which has given us food and shelter, listened to our howls of triumph and our cries of despair, has never once betrayed us. And we will not betray it.” He raised a dagger in the air, just like his warriors. “Death and ruin will not touch us as long as our hearts are pure.”
The wind picked up, playing with the flames and drawing them toward the sky, as if it too wanted to take part in the ritual. Perhaps the crater felt and saw more than we thought.
“We call upon Solkar and his blessings, to shine upon us even at night. Our enemies will not prevail, their blood wetting our land, not tainting it.” Ryker’s voice rose, drumming through the circle. “We will not cower, we will not bend. We will protect this land as it protects us. This we swear and oath until the grave.”
The warriors banged their dagger pommels against their chests, grunting in the night.
“No fury without foe. No triumph without struggle. No reward without sacrifice.” The firelight carved the angles of his face sharper. Unforgiving. “For the good of this land and the Blood Brotherhood.”
Ryker’s dagger hissed through the night, coming down upon his own flesh. He’d told me this would happen, and, yet, Iquaked inside at seeing the blade’s tip carve a trench on the back of his hand in a perfect circle.
Everyone followed suit, the air turning metallic. Geryll, to my right, hissed as he cut his own flesh, while Nadya, to my left, did it with a determined grimace.
Finally, it was my turn.
This ritual felt foreign and ancient, too primal for my Protectorate proclivities.
But if I wanted them to embrace me, I had to sacrifice as much as they did.
Pay attention to your steps.
The dagger’s tip slashed at my skin. I locked my jaw, matching Ryker’s impenetrable mask, even as pain shot up my arm. The candle’s light flickered with my unpracticed movements, but I did it.
A perfect circle to match the rest, my blood trickling down my arm, dripping onto the snow and smearing onto my fur sleeve.
It was the way in Solkar’s Reach.
“Warriors.” Ryker called out. “Let Solkar himself see and hear you on this night.”
On cue, we all pressed their bloody hands onto their foreheads, leaving behind grisly blood marks. It clung thick to my skin, seeping into the lines, searing the vow. A fierce fervor spread through my veins, like my soul wanted to rise out of me and join the others in a wild dance.
This was no orderly Protectorate ceremony, where I could even recite each priest’s intonation by heart.
Feral and raw, the ritual scratched at some primal part of me, that wanted to forget all about the laws of propriety and burst out, like some wild beast.
Some buried, raw part of me roared in answer.
I belonged in this madness.
The warriors threw their heads back and howled to the stars. In the distance, the wolves joined in, the entire valley alive.
Ryker’s gaze slashed toward me through the flames as he spread his arms wide.
I knew what he was doing. What he was waiting for.
I tilted my chin in agreement.
Yes, I wanted his power to wash over me.
Touch me.
Fill me.
He closed his eyes and flicked his fingers.
The howls grew louder as they relaxed in a wave emanating from Ryker’s position. The circle marks on the back of their hands restitched as if they'd never been carved into flesh.
I held my breath as Geryll and Nadya’s bodies relaxed next to me, as if someone had wiped away all the day’s aches.
