The Forsaken King

I nodded in his hand, feeling his thumb continue to trace my bottom lip.

“We will take the Kingdoms—and then we will destroy Necrosis. As husband and wife. As king and queen.”

It was the first time we’d held hands.

He grabbed mine as we walked down the cobblestone path, the sun almost gone from the horizon, the sky blue and purple, little silhouettes of birds that hadn’t found their refuge for the night.

He took the lead, guiding me into a building with a domed ceiling, the windows made of colored glass. The double doors were each twenty feet tall, but Huntley had no problem opening one with a single hand and pulling me inside.

The room was lit with white candles, wax dripping down the pillars to the golden plates they stood upon. An enormous sculpture was in the center, an armed soldier with a beautiful woman in flowing gowns. Candles were everywhere, and the place smelled like old books and stale air.

Huntley took me past the shelves of books in the center and the desks where the monks worked throughout the day. Farther he went, until he found the place of worship, at the feet of one of the gods.

Adeodatus.

A monk emerged, in an unremarkable brown robe, his head shaved because he wasn’t allowed vanity whatsoever. “Huntley, I have come as you asked. But now, you must tell me the subject of this clandestine meeting.” His eyes flicked to me, taking me in before he turned his attention back on Huntley.

“We wish to be married.” His hand remained in mine, strong and warm.

The monk was quiet, unable to process the request. “Queen Rolfe isn’t present.”

“I want you to marry us anyway.”

“I cannot. Queen Rolfe will have me ejected from the clergy.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“With all due respect, Huntley. You’re not the King of HeartHolme.”

“But I’m her son, and she will listen to me.”

He turned quiet.

“I’ll tell her I threatened your life.”

“That would be a lie, and I will not tell lies.”

He released me, withdrew his sword, and held it at the monk’s throat. “How’s this, then?”

The monk raised both arms and turned absolutely still.

“Marry us—or I’ll slit your throat.”

He didn’t even take a breath, he was so scared.

“You think I won’t do it?” Huntley pressed the knife right against his skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

The monk grimaced when he felt it. “Yes…I’ll marry you.”

Huntley sheathed his sword and returned to me.

The monk clamped his hand against the superficial wound.

“You won’t have a scar,” Huntley said.

The monk wiped the blood on his cloak then retrieved his books.

I stared at Huntley. “Was that really necessary?”

He dropped his chin to look down at me. “I did it for his own protection.”

The monk returned and set up his supplies on the podium. Two books and a gold plate with a dagger. He opened the first book, flipped to the right page, and in the language of the gods, he spoke.

Huntley and I stood there, listening to words we didn’t understand, looking at each other while our hearts beat erratically. His hand moved to mine again, and he held it, his eyes confident, his exterior calm.

When the monk read the final passage, the vibrations in the air were palpable. I could feel it in every breath I took. Feel it pressing all around me. It was an energy channeled down from the heavens, an energy that had the power to bind two souls together.

The monk addressed us. “Two souls. Two bodies. But they will merge and become one. If there are objections, now is the time.”

Huntley looked at me.

I stared back, just as confident.

He gave me another moment to change my mind, to call the whole thing off.

But I didn’t.

Huntley faced the monk again.

The monk grabbed the dagger, the hilt made of solid gold, and extended it to Huntley.

He took it and sliced it across his open palm, the drops of blood immediately hitting the floor at his feet. Then he extended the dagger to me.

I took it and did the same, wounding myself. The bloody knife was placed on the gold plate on the podium.

“Together,” the monk instructed.

Huntley grabbed my bloody hand with his and held it against his chest, the red color dripping down both of our arms. The cut either didn’t hurt or I didn’t notice with all the adrenaline. He didn’t seem to notice either.

With our eyes locked on each other, the monk continued.

“By the power of Adeodatus, your souls are forever bound. Death will part you in this life, but not in the next. You’ll walk through this world as husband and wife, and you will enter the afterlife as souls forever intertwined.”

The house was exactly as we’d left it.

The fire burned in the hearth, and the sheets were still rumpled from the morning.

But now, everything was different.

I could feel the change in my lungs every time I breathed. Could taste it on my tongue. Could feel it in my fingertips even though they were numb. My hand had stopped bleeding, but the old blood had stained the skin of my palm.