“Remove your shirt.” Gregory turned to examine the immortal dagger lying on a small table.
Siban slipped his tunic off and handed it to Ravyn. Shivers from the chilled air ghosted across his skin. When Gregory lifted the dagger, Siban’s heart began to pound. I can do this.
Ravyn spread a linen blanket over the wooden slab and placed a small pillow at the head. “Lie down, please.” She patted the table. “I promise we’ll take good care of you.”
Without replying, he slid onto the table and rested his head against the stiff pillow. The blanket did little to cushion the hard wood pressing against his back, though he doubted he would have been able to relax. Unsure where to place his hands, he interlocked his fingers and rested them against his bare abdomen. He shifted his shoulders, trying to find a more comfortable position and ignoring the awkwardness of being everybody’s focus.
Four Bringers he didn’t know approached, each carrying two small sacks. In evenly spaced positions they emptied the contents of the bags onto the table.
Cloves, lavender, and a piney scent rose up around the edge of the table. Siban swallowed and stared at the ceiling. He mentally counted the dark beams above, forcing himself not to watch the Bringers working around him. Another shudder rippled through his body. Three months ago, allowing somebody to cut or stab him would have been unthinkable. The nightmares from his time among the demons still haunted him. He pushed away the dark thoughts, unwilling to give them power over him. After having been tortured with everything from talons to shards of rusty metal while in Vile’s prison, Siban’s consent to be brought to full power was a testament to his devotion to Rell.
It helped that he’d made the choice and that Gregory’s action would be done with gentleness not malice. Still, when the man turned toward Siban bearing the knife, it took all of his self-discipline not to hurl his body from the table and flee the room.
A low, healing chant kindled to Siban’s left. The song flowing around him was one of the most beautiful Siban had ever heard. Clear and pitched surprisingly low, the notes resonated along his body and sent tingles skittering along his skin. Another voice joined the melody, deeper in tone.
The light in the room shifted, altering Siban’s sight. Ribbons of blue and white drifted from the Bringers, encircling them like lace, binding each together. The lyrical composition surrounded him and burrowed under his skin, winding its way to what felt like his soul.
More soft voices mixed with the song, and the light from the ribbons grew stronger, pulsing inside him and creating a halo of light around the table.
Ravyn and Rell’s sister, Jade, joined the circle and each placed their hands on one of his shoulders. When Rhys and Ravyn had brought their friend Luc Le Daun to full power, Siban had held his legs down in a similar manner. Luc had fought them, almost escaping their hold. Siban wondered how Ravyn and Jade expected to keep him restrained if his control broke.
The two women joined the chant and instantly warmth flowed into his body. Streams of light spiraled from their hands and entered his shoulders at the point where they touched. Tension eased from his muscles, the mantra lulling him into a relaxed state. Even when Gregory approached, fear did not grip Siban.
“In death there is life,” Gregory said, circling the blade in front of him in a looping pattern. “In sacrifice, return.” Heat traveled down Siban’s torso and his eyes remained steady on the king. “All barriers destroyed and evil be spurned.” Gregory lowered the knife and laid the blade against Siban’s chest, directly over his heart. Despite the relaxing chant, he couldn’t help but tense when the cold metal touched his skin. “No hindrance remain, from our blood be renewed.” Gregory dragged the edge downward, lacerating Siban with a shallow slice. In an effort not to cry out, he bit down on his lower lip. The metallic taste of blood coated his tongue. “That which was taken, settle in those who Bring true.”
Fire danced along the cut and Siban braced himself, waiting for Gregory to plunge the dagger in his heart as they had done with Luc. Instead of stabbing him, Gregory set the knife between two piles of herbs on the wooden platform and placed his hands next to Ravyn’s. Again the king spoke, but they were words Siban did not understand.
The heat burning along the slice spread across his chest, eating up every inch of Siban’s body. Searing pain ignited his organs as if incinerating him from the inside out. He gasped for breath, but couldn’t inhale as wave after wave of pain gripped him.
The chant around him grew louder and more hands pressed against his legs and arms. His muscles convulsed. It was as if his very soul was being pulled from his body through his chest. He choked against the tightening at his throat. His mouth opened in an effort to suck in air, but none could pass.
The words grew louder and above the unified chant he heard Ravyn’s voice. Separate from the other Redeemers, she spoke the Bringer’s ancient language. Her words demanded and coaxed the darkness from inside him. His vision blurred and his head pounded as the need for air became desperate.
Ravyn placed her hands on his forehead and raised her voice, shouting, “Avec mea!”
From Siban’s throat rose a white vapor. It hovered a foot above his mouth and then descended to cover his face. The sensation of being branded scorched the skin under his lower lip. After a few seconds, the white vapor evaporated completely. Siban gasped, drinking in the cool, perfumed air, and collapsed against the table. All traces of pain and the ribbons of healing light disappeared. The blood pounded in his ears, and his heart raced. He waited, expecting another wave of agony, but none came.
Gregory stared down at him and then smiled. He touched his index finger against the skin directly below Siban’s lower lip. “A Tell.”
The spot burned and Siban flinched away, pressing the back of his hand to the area and trying to numb the sting, knowing he now bore a the single black line of the Tell. “Are you finished?”
“Did you want something more?” Gregory smirked. “Perhaps you would have preferred I plunge the dagger into your heart?”
Siban’s craned his head to look at Ravyn. “Expected, not preferred.”
Ravyn cleared her throat. “It seems actually stabbing somebody in the heart isn’t required to bring a person to full power.”
“That would have been nice to know.” Luc scowled at her and rubbed his chest.
She shrugged. “Sorry. If it’s any consolation, I did it to myself as well.”
Siban struggled to sit up, spreading the herbs along the edge of the table and knocking some of them to the ground. He looked at his chest. A thin red line stretched from his sternum to his left side, but there was no blood. “What was that white smoke? I felt like I was choking.”
“Think of it as a net that encased your powers. Due to generations of Bringers breeding with humans, the Bringer essence within us becomes bound. The ceremony severs that bond.” He pointed to Siban’s cut. “It will be healed by morning and the only evidence of the ceremony will be your Tell mark.” Gregory placed a hand on Siban’s shoulder. “How do you feel?”