Chapter 42: Ceremony

The morning of the ceremony was bright and clear. The sky was nearly cloudless, just thin whisps of clouds hanging like strings across the blue expanse. It felt almost ironic. Lavinia could feel the weight of the plan ahead of her pressing hard on her shoulders, but the day itself seemed entirely open. Isaac joined her at the window. Had they been at the manor, he would have suggested a walk. But today wasn’t about that.

As the two of them dressed, they thought only of the struggle ahead. Isaac took off the silver ring he wore on his right hand and threaded it through a ribbon. He tied it around Lavinia’s neck. “Keep it tucked under your gown.”

“Will that actually work?”

Isaac shrugged. “It will be better than nothing. And in all the days we’ve spent here I have not seen a single member of the pack wear silver. Even their tableware is made of a different metal.”

Lavinia touched the ring. It was far too large for any of her fingers. It was an element solely for protection, but the heavy ring around her neck felt warm and indicative of something more.

Together, the two of them left their room and descended into the lower hall. The sound of voices carried, even from floors below. Lavinia followed Isaac down into the lower part of the castle.

Through a set of double doors, the space opened into the large amphitheater that Isaac had described. There were rows of stone benches with a wide aisle down the center. The benches themselves were only half full. Around thirty adults had been seated, and the space between them was dominated by sprinting children. Like the weather, the amphitheater was jarringly cordial. No one here could feel the same impending doom as Lavinia.

Warily, she took her seat at the front of the room beside Sonia. Isaac retreated to the back of the room, standing by the doors to wait for Arabella. Lavinia looked around the room, trying to take in all the details in case she needed to act quickly.

At the head of the room was a raised dais. There was a low podium in the center of it that looked like it had a dip in the top of it like some sort of bowl. Behind the podium stood a tall man with waist-length silver hair tied back in a low knot. He had a short sheath at his hip out of which poked an ornately jeweled handle. In his hands he flipped through a small yellow book, mouthing along to the words as if practicing them.

Behind him, on the back wall, were a second set of double doors. They were much smaller than the doors Lavinia had entered through and had a heavy slat across them. She assumed these were the doors that lead to the ritual room, the third step that Sonia had talked about. In front of them stood a young woman with her hair slicked back. Even from this distance, Lavinia could see thick scars winding across her face. The woman turned towards the doors, hearing a knock that was too quiet for Lavinia to catch over the din. She lifted the slat slightly, opening the door just wide enough for Rosie to slip through.

Rosie looked awful. Her face was thin and there were deep circles under her eyes. She was dressed in a loose white dress that ended at her knees. The woman replaced the slat and walked Rosie to the man on the dais who helped her climb up. He positioned her in front of himself but behind the podium, keeping one hand on her shoulder. Lavinia’s stomach dropped. She knew something awful was about to happen.

A hush fell over the gathered crowd as the doors in the back opened. Marco entered first with his father. The two of them sauntered up the aisle. At the end of the row of benches they parted. Mr. Brogan took his seat on the bench opposite Lavinia and Sonia, watching his son step up on to the dais. Marco stared towards the back of the room.

Lavinia turned to follow his gaze, looking to the back of the room. Isaac and Arabella had started up the aisle. Her gown was loose, barely brushing the ground. She maintained a smile, a smile that could almost pass as genuine. Isaac remained stone-faced, making no effort to even feign happiness. As they approached the platform they both caught sight of Rosie. Arabella’s face fell. She faltered, but Isaac kept her moving forward. She stepped up onto the dais and Marco took her hand. Isaac sat down next to Mr. Brogan.

He smiled with his teeth, his enormous hand completely covering Arabella’s small one. He nodded at the man behind the podium, who cleared his throat, spreading his arms wide. He started addressing the crowd, speaking a language that Lavinia did not recognize. The assembled audience sat forward attentively, even the kids listening quietly.

Sonia leaned over to Lavinia’s ear. “He is reciting the history of the rites of mates. Telling them about the tradition that they’re entering into.”

The man paused and Marco gave a reply with a smile. He squeezed Arabella’s and she replied as well, her pronunciation clearly awkward and barely practiced. Mr. Brogan beamed, staring up at his son. This continued for several minutes. The man would speak at length and then prompt both Marco and Arabella to respond. Lavinia’s leg began to bounce, her anxiety barely controllable. She could acutely feel the divide between the atmosphere around her and the mounting tension in her stomach.

Suddenly the crowd began clapping and cheering, Lavinia turned around to look behind her, the kids that had been sitting politely had begun jumping around again, getting impatient. Something was coming. Lavinia turned back forward and to her horror, she saw the man holding Rosie by her hair. He unsheathed the ornamental knife from his belt and flashed it upwards quickly.

A thin red line appeared across Rosie’s throat. In an instant blood started flowing quickly and the man pushed her forward, making her blood pour into the pedestal’s basin. Arabella’s hands flew to her mouth, the roar from the crowd covering her scream. Lavinia felt Sonia grip her leg, stopping her from jumping up.

“Don’t, Vini don’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, we can’t do anything.”

Lavinia looked over at Isaac who was holding tight to the bench, staring in shock at his sister. Lavinia looked back to the dais, seeing Marco and Arabella spattered in Rosie’s blood. Marco had seized Arabella’s hands again, holding her fast.