Wedding Continued

~*~

Once again I felt a flood of relief for my veil as it hid my wide eyes and gaping mouth from the rest of the world.
The ceremony began, with the Priest singing out in a clear, sweet voice of the blessings of the thirteen God-Kings who ruled the heavens and created all life but I paid no attention.
The King of Abyssor still had his pinky pressed against mine and showed no sign of moving it. It was the slightest of contact but it offered more comfort than anything the Priest was saying. That slight touch offered me a new vision of my future life.
The Priest lifted the dagger from its stand, holding it above his head where both moonlight and firelight glinted off the shining blade. Once again my stomach clenched in fear and I shuddered.
“With this dagger,� the Priest called out, “both shall shed the other’s blood and let three drops fall into the wine.�
He offered the dagger, handle first, to my fiancé and declared, “King Marek Darius Vilmar, you shall shed the blood of the Princess first.�
We turned to each other and I held out my hand, cupping it delicately. He placed his hand beneath mine and his skin was warm and callused but somehow offered me comfort.
He held up the dagger and pressed it against my flesh. The metal was freezing and I squeezed my eyes shut, so I didn’t have to watch my own blood flow. There was a sharp pain and then a dull ache. I opened my eyes and saw the slim cut down my palm, blood pooling in the center.
“Princess,� the priest murmured. King Marek lifted my hand and guided it above the chalice then tipped it so that my blood dribbled into the wine.
The wine darkened to a deeper, richer red and began to steam.
King Marek extended the dagger to me, handle first and I took it with my unwounded hand. The hilt was still warm from the King’s grip and I drew from the warmth to give me power.
He held out his hand to me and I cupped it gently with my wounded hand and pressed the blade against his palm and took a deep breath then cut through the callused skin.
I saw a little twitch of his lips but that was the only reaction. I glanced down and dragged the point of the dagger down the palm, cutting his hand open the way he had cut mine.
Then as gently as he had, I guided his hand to the goblet and tipped it so that his blood joined mine in the goblet. The wine turned to a red so dark it was black and now it was positively smoking.
“Press the cuts against each other,� the Priest commanded.
I had been holding my hand flat so that the blood didn’t stain the white of my gown now I lifted it and felt the delicate tickle of my blood running town my hand to drip to the floor. King Marek matched my movement and pressed his cut against mine.
I felt an odd jolt when our cuts met and shuddered. He did the same.
“And now, with blood and hand still joined, drink the wine,� the Priest ordered and offered the goblet to King Marek. He took it in the hand not pressed against mine and, not taking his eyes off of me, lifted it to his lips.