CHAPTER 16: THE HEAT CEREMONY

IRYN'S POV

It's only been a few minutes since I went through a magic spell casting checkup.

They said it was for 'routine' reasons, but I've never heard of a she- wolf having to go through that after meeting her mates.

... So why did I have to be made to do that?

It really made me confused, and I would have been very wary but my mates were there; and that was my only comfort.

So far I don't think Nyall, Fenric and Orien would stand someone... hurting me.

I can only hope I'm right on this, because right now I'm being dressed under the moonlight for what they're calling a heat ceremony.

... But this time, my mates aren't here; I'm not sure where they are now.

The robes on my body are a layered hush of plum and smoke- gray coloured silk that drag over my skin in a not so smooth manner.

Elder Merrin's fingers move calmly as she fastens the woven belt at my waist and tucks a sprig of ironroot into the knot... and I have to wonder why a high Elder of her status is dressing me.

... But all I do is wonder, I don't ask.

The ironroot's bitter scent fills the air, and I find myself staring at my bare feet on the cold stone and trying to ignore how the chamber smells like pine ash, beeswax, old paper, rain after lightning.

“It’s too tight,” I say, even though it isn’t------ actually the belt feels like bondage.

“Bindings must be felt, child,” Elder Merrin almost as if she read my thoughts, and her kohl- lined eyes hold mine.

“So must choices.”

My brows furrow at the edges at her words, but it's not in confusion.

“What choice? You said the bond is ‘unstable’ and that this ritual is ‘required.’”

“The bond is like a river in flood,” another elder, Elder Casmir says from the brazier, where he's currently tending to charcoal and dried herbs with a bronze tong.

"This rite will cuts channels that will make it unstable.”

I don't say anything in reply to his words; to me he just spoke completely out of point.

Suddenly, firelight flickers over the carved wolves in the rafters, and I roll my shoulders to loosen the robe just as a bell sounds somewhere deep in the hall.

Hearing that, my pulse stumbles.

“Sit,” Thalia instructs, and I sink onto the low stone platform in the center of the chamber----- the hearth- heart, as the elders call it.

... And it's then that I see a round bowl of scented ash which has been placed on a tripod before me.

It's gray and threaded with crushed lavender, amber resin, and something else I'm not sure of its name.

Beside the round bowl are three smaller bowls, each etched with a different sigil on it------- one with the sigil of a blade made of ice, another of a coil of storm, and the last of a yawning flame.

Everything looks so strange to me, and I wonder where my mates went to; I don't feel safe without them here.

Where are they?

Just then, the door unlatches, and as if on cue, my three mates walk inside.

Nyall is the first that walks in, dressed in a dark tunic that's trimmed with winter- white thread, his onyx eyes looking so calm.

Orien's the next, wearing a coat thrown back over his shoulders with the candlelight that's all around the chamber finding all the gold in his usually pale grey eyes.

And Fenric comes in last, with his shoulders bare beneath a wrap that looks like... like he argued with a shirt and beat it up badly------ actually he’s already smudged with charcoal along his jaw.

Every part of me sits up under the scent of my mates; dark cedar, scotched spice and wild pine, and my wolf stretches, raking her claws inside my ribs and purrs

'mates.'

They come closer, forming a triangle around me, and so I lift my head, tilting it back so that I can see them properly.

“Iryn,” Nyall says softly when he stops in front of me.

“Nyall,” I answer, and then hear the tremor in my own throat.

“Mate,” Orien calls, but I only blink and him quietly in response.

Fenric on the other hand, doesn’t speak or say anything at all, he just looks at me and I cowardly, find a reason to stare at the floor beneath me.

“Witnesses are gathered, the moon is ascending,” Elder Merrin recites, then she sprinkles some crushed rosemary------ I can tell that's what it is from the scent of it------ into the brazier.

... As a result, the smoke in the brazier turns bright green, then Elder Merrin continues speaking.

"The Omega Binding begins... Let marks be for scent, symbols for truth and oil for seal. Ask for consent, receive consent and honor consent.”

Those three words: Ask, Receive and Honor, have me sitting up even straighter than I had been sitting like before.

... And I swallow nervously as Elder Merrin dips her fingers into the main bowl and brings it out to then streak some ash across my brows.

I prefer myself to jolt, but I don't------- even though the feeling of the ash on my skin is cooler than I expected.

“For clear mind,” she says.

“For clear will.”

“Who marks first?” Casmir asks and I stiffen immediately.

Mark?

I wasn't told anything about being marked?!

I'm not ready to be marked!!

“I do,” Nyall, Orien and Fenric say at the same time, and I instantly feel the joint sound of their voices pull at the base of my belly.

They glance sideways at one another and I notice how they all tense up, obviously having a mild link.

I worried about what they're talking about but then I feel disagreement pass through the bond and immediately realise that they're arguing about who will mark me first.

It hisses against my nerves, and I lay my palm over the knot at my waist and just then Nyall steps forward, walking closer towards me.

'No, no, no, no,no,' I think, repeatedly shaking my head as Nyall's eyes shine gold, showing his wolf through his eyes.