“We come here today to honor the traditions of our Vakar creators,” the man said, voice rising strong over her. “On this day one of our own rises up to take her place among the great rulers, past, present, and of the future. Your hand, if you would.”
She dutifully lifted her arm, settling her palm up in his larger one like Ruckus had instructed. She knew what was coming next, braced herself for the cool touch of metal right below the curve of her right elbow. He’d warned her it would sting a little, but had sworn it wouldn’t be anything like what she’d experienced during her fitting.
Apparently, every ruler of Vakar got signified thus with a tattoo of sorts or, in her mind, a brand. The metal device he was holding to her flesh would deliver the mark by transferring a design straight into the layers of her skin using microscopic lasers.
Ruckus had explained it as sort of a more advanced version of a tattoo gun.
“With the oath given before all, do you hereby accept your fate as Vakar royalty?”
The speech she’d been rehearsing the past few days ran through her mind on repeat, and she struggled to catch up, blurting the words out as quickly as she could to be done with them.
“Of my own volition, yes, and I also hereby accept the responsibilities and the sacrifices that will be expected of me as an Uprisen member of Vakar society, and citizen of Xenith. I vow to always do my best to protect my people, no matter the personal cost to myself, and to always uphold my word given here.”
The metal device was pressed down harder against her, and she bit the inside of her cheek at the burning sensation. It felt like someone was shredding her skin at first, but Ruckus had been right: It wasn’t as bad as the head pain from her fitting had been, and it only lasted a minute at most.
When the device was removed, there was a tiny forest-green V no bigger than a dime at the top center of her forearm. When she moved it under the light, it sparkled like there was glitter in the ink.
She’d been seriously upset about this part, the part where she had to get a tattoo. It looked like Olena’s body on the outside to all of them, but later, once she was home, her friends and family would see the real her. And now the real tattoo that would make no sense to them. She didn’t even know anyone with a name that started with V.
At least it was small. She decided the first thing she’d do when she got back to Maine was hit up a real tattoo parlor and get it covered. She didn’t even really care with what at this point.
Cheers rose up around her, the entire audience roaring their approval with laughs and incessant clapping. She wanted to tell them all to shut up, biting down on her lip to keep from doing so. To her, this whole thing was a major sham, one she’d been dragged and threatened into. To them, they’d just witnessed their Lissa get named the next Basilissa of Vakar.
In the next moment, Trystan’s hand settled on the curve of her elbow, and he escorted her up the last step and over to the throne on the right. He eased her into it, being more gentle here than he’d ever been with her before, and then took the seat next to hers.
She couldn’t help the twist to her mouth, and she sent him a sideways glare, which he noted and actually chuckled about.
They weren’t kidding anybody. The whole planet knew they hated each other.
Sitting rigidly, she scanned the room, letting out a small sigh when her gaze locked on to Ruckus. He was moving toward them, heading to one side of the dais, where he stopped and stood sentry. His hands were clasped before him, and he held her eyes for a long moment, a comforting half smile on his lips.
“Why the two of you insist on insulting my intelligence is beyond me,” Trystan said harshly under his breath. Around them the festivities were starting up, people moving around and heading toward the buffet tables that lined the entire left wall.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped back at him, keeping her voice low, same as him.
“We’ve established that I caught you at the pool the other day.”
“You didn’t catch me at anything.” They were receiving a lot of stares, but no one had approached them yet, so fortunately no one was close enough to overhear their conversation. She rubbed at her temples, sorely wishing for a hot bath and her bedroom back home.
“We’re betrothed, Olena,” he sneered, gripping the sides of the chair so tightly, it was a wonder the arms didn’t snap off. “How do you think it looks to others? Your gallivanting around with the Ander?”
“Um.” She rolled her eyes. “Like we hate each other? Which we do. It’s no big secret.”
“Do we?” He’d been watching the room up until this point, but now his heated gaze swung her way, settling on her unflinchingly.
Not wanting to decipher that, she turned her head, feigning fascination with the food on one of the golden trays a waiter was carrying around the room. Oddly, he was dressed the same way the wait staff on Earth would be, only in traditional Vakar colors. And with more poise.
“I certainly don’t get the warm fuzzies when I’m around you,” she said, managing to keep her tone steady, bored, even. She knew he wouldn’t like that, but she wasn’t too concerned about pissing him off at the moment. They were currently surrounded by thousands of people, after all, and the crowd both terrified and emboldened her.
“Warm fuzzies isn’t quite the term I think of in your presence, either.” It was the way he said it, voice dropping down to a huskier timber, that got her attention. He’d angled his body closer, leaning on his arm across the rest so that they were mere inches apart. There was a look in his eyes, almost like he was waiting for something, and she wondered if this was just another way of goading her for a response.
Deciding she preferred self-preservation over her pride, she moved to lean on her right armrest, quickly placing more space between them. It was as far as she could get while remaining in the chair, and something told her she didn’t want to attempt getting up and leaving.
“Where are you going?” he purred, smirking when she noticeably bristled. “Interesting.”
“Stop.”
He canted his head in response.
“This morning you admitted to trying to kill me, remember?” she snapped. “Guys who’ve attempted murder don’t get to look at me like that.”
“And how am I looking at you, exactly?” he asked.
“Delaney,” Ruckus’s voice flowed through her mind, deliberate and strong. “Are you all right? Should I come up there?”
She appreciated the fact that he was asking, though also noted it meant they were seriously being monitored. If she didn’t want to risk causing a scene, that meant sitting there was still very important, even though the official part of the ceremony had ended.
“I’m fine,” she sent back, not wanting to get him into trouble. The Basileus and Basilissa were still seated behind them, neither having said a word to her yet. She wanted to keep it that way.
“He’s dangerous. If he tries anything—”
“I’ll call you,” she stopped him. “Until then, I’ve got this.”