Chapter Thirty-Seven
REMI
The Midnight King looks as intimating and wicked as the night I met him. Atop of a throne of diamond black, Keiran is undeniably king.
The room is a spectacle of dark magnificence, a realm where shadows dance and power thrums in the air. The scent of jasmine and moonflower saturates the space, their blooms spilling from vases and garlands in lush, overflowing cascades. Kieran's throne, a marvel of black stone, sits at the heart of it all, with milky white water flowing around its base, a serene contrast to the imposing darkness. Beyond the thirty-foot open-air windows, two staggering mountain peaks frame the scene, stars glimmering above them like ancient sentinels.
The King sits on his throne, exuding an aura of power and menace. His ice-blue eyes, glowing like mountain stars, cast a chilling yet mesmerizing light. Shadows cling to him, swirling around his form, drawn to his dark energy. His presence is both intimidating and magnetic, a potent blend of danger and allure.
Even with his court absent, the throne room is far from empty. At least two dozen veiled priestesses are scattered throughout the space, their quiet presence amplifying the tension, as well as at least twenty of Kieran's best guards stand vigilant, their eyes tracking every movement with deadly precision.
Xaden, Kieran's second-in-command, stands beside the throne, a formidable figure draped in weapons. His red eyes, a stark contrast to the milky white water and flowers around him, radiate intimidation. The priestesses seem to shiver and edge away from him, his mere presence heightening the room's tension.
The Witches are draped in red, their black skin and long, straight black hair stark against their golden crowns, exuding an aura of ancient power and malevolence. Their gazes are cold and penetrating as if they can see into the very depths of one's soul.
There are too many crowns in here. Too many people.
I step forward, my heart pounding in my chest, fear and anxiety coursing through me. Kallias and Rhodes flank me protectively, but there is little they can do once they begin. Once they have me.
As I walk across the milky white pond through the aisle leading to Kieran's throne, the weight of everyone's eyes bears down on me. I kneel before Kieran, Kallias and Rhodes mirroring my actions, the cold stone beneath us sending a shiver up my spine.
The air crackles with magic, a palpable force battling for dominance. The Witches' dark power, Kieran's commanding presence, the twins' protective energy, and even Xaden's intimidating aura clash and swirl around me. I can’t tell who is the strongest, but the sheer intensity of it all makes my head spin.
One of the Marisa’s steps forward. Her orange eyes, although bright, are nothing but an empty void. “Let us begin,” she tells me.
All I do is nod.
The ceremony begins, the Witches stepping forward, their voices echoing through the hall. "A sacrifice is required," they intone, their words heavy with ancient power and tradition. The priestesses approach, their movements slow and deliberate, as if performing a sacred dance.
It takes me until they lead me to the steps into the water to realize that they’re nervous I’m going to hit them, kill them.
But they’re not who I’m after.
“W-we’re going to lower you slowly,” one whispers to me, her hands are shaking, and she can barely grasp my wrist. “T-they’ll come after you’ve been submerged.”
Meaning they’ll all come and drink from me after.
“W-what is in the water?” I ask, noting the ghostly appearance.
I can tell that the Priestesses, even beneath their dark red veils, exchange a look.
“We don’t know miss,” one answers.
Well, that’s fucking wonderful.
I don’t fight as they unbutton my dress, nor flinch as bits and pieces of it fall to the floor. Their touch is surprisingly gentle as they prepare me for the ritual, but the weight of what’s to come presses down like a physical force. I glance up at Kieran, his ice-blue eyes unwavering, and I can’t help but wonder what he really thinks of all this.
Kieran's gaze never leaves me, his presence a constant reminder of the power and danger surrounding me. The twins are tense beside me, their protective instincts clear, their own magic a shield around us.
The last layer, my silk slip, slides from my shoulders on a cold wind. I only hold Kieran’s gaze. Everyone’s eyes are on me, everyone but Xaden’s.
With the guidance of the Priestesses, I step out of the circle of my discarded clothing.
I’m fully naked now, but I am not afraid. The rulers in this room are the ones who should feel ashamed.
And I swear something like a hint of shame does pass across Kieran’s dark features. But then like the moon’s orbit passing the clouds, it’s gone with a lick of shadow.
“Princess Remi of Solis, please step forward,” the Priestess to my right is saying.
Gods, how long has it been since I was called that? Days? Months?
It feels like a lifetime ago.
Slowly, I take the first step. The water sloshes at my bare feet, but luckily my toes don’t burn when I touch the mysterious water. The witches' chants begin to intensify, and I take another step, then another.
Kallias at least seems disappointed that I’m entering the water. Though I’m not sure if it’s because he’s nervous for me, or sad that he will miss the view of my body.
Still, Xaden won’t look at me.
‘You are nothing to me and my brothers’ he told me, ‘it would be better for the world if you and your ancestors had never been born.
Dead, he wants me. Me and my family died for what we stole.
Fear intensifies within me, my heart racing as the priestesses guide me in. The milky water is at my ankles, then my calves, then my upper thighs. In just a few more steps I’ll be fully submerged.
“She will touch the blessed water, be the drink of life itself.”
Every Priestess in the room who’s not bathing me has fallen to their knees, praying at the edges of the large pool as if I’m their savior. Some of them, I notice, are even crying.
The Priestess to my right raises her hand to the sky. She’s holding a knife. It flashes in the moonlight.”
“She will save us all,” she says, then lowers the knife. “Please extend your hand, Princess.”
I can’t breathe.
This is it.
This is how I die.
When I don’t move, the second Priestess grabs my hand and offers it to the other. With trembling hands, she cuts into my palm, and my blood begins to rise to the surface.
Around me, the other Priestesses echo her words. “She will save us all…save us all.”
Their chants swirl in my head, and all I can think is, who is going to save me?
I look to Keiran. We haven’t broken eye contact once. When I put my head under the water, what will happen? Will I die? Be bled out?
Maybe their devotion is meant to comfort me, to assure me that my sacrifice is good. Kieran revealed to me today that there are more people here than just the two thousand and fifty souls. There are the Natives too, the ones who raised him when he was discarded. There could be hundreds of thousands of them in the forests, many, many more than the city.
The Priestess to my right says something again, then the knife is passed to the one on the left. The women around us raise their voices, filling the throne room with near shouts.
I scream when she cuts me. Kallias and Rhodes shout.
Blood. There is so much blood. It falls from my palms and into the milky white water, staining it red.
How am I expected to stay calm?
“We’re going to submerge you know,” the nicer Priestess says. Her thin red veil is speckled in milk white water and my blood. Even though I can’t see her, I can sense her fear, just as she can sense my own.
I nod to her. The grip of the second Priestess is like iron around my wrists as if I’m about to suddenly bolt.
I can’t deny a large part of me wants to.
From the corner of my eye, the Witches' eyes sparkle. They’re like three hungry hyenas, waiting for me to die.
I nod to the Priestess beside me, the nice one, take a deep breath and lower myself into the water.