Chapter 9: The Blood Moon

Isobel's POV

The moon cleared the sea wall at the exact moment the bells stopped.

Red light poured through the high windows of the Great Hall and laid itself across the Altar.

Two hundred people stood in rows along the walls.

Lenora sat on the dais in a chair with a physician at her elbow, grey but alive, with a blanket across her knees.

Lucian waited at the Altar in his best grey coat, with the silver knife in one hand.

The crown lay on its cushion beside him.

He looked tired.

For a moment, I almost felt sorry for him.

Then he smiled at me, the same smooth, patient smile he had worn while Lenora drank my blood.

The feeling went out of me.

"You came," he said softly. "Good. After tonight there will be no more bowls, Isobel. I give you my word."

"Your word."

"We will make the pact, and all of this will be behind us."

He held out his palm for mine.

The whole Court watched.

I walked up the three black steps.

Ronan stayed at the foot of them, with his arms folded, a head taller than anyone near him.

I did not look back at him.

I was afraid that if I did, I would lose my nerve.

I took the knife from Lucian's hand.

He frowned. "That's not how it's done."

"I know how it's done."

I drew the blade across my own left palm and held it over the Altar.

The first drop hit the black stone.

Something under my ribs went snap, and then another, and another.

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