Chapter 55


    #Chapter 55 – iming


    The day of the iming dawns bright and clear. I am almost woozy withck of sleep, having spent the


    whole night – as promised – tearing apart Amelia’s table cloth and making it into something new.


    I caught a few hours of sleep, just before dawn, but now I’m up, showered, and ready to face the day.


    In the soft yellow light of morning I lift the linen dress up over my head and let it slip down over the


    length of my body, falling all the way to the floor.


    Ultimately, I decided on a very simple pattern. My dress is almost Grecian in its drape. Its simple lines


    fall from my shoulders to the floor with a slight hitch at the waist, my arms left bare. I study myself in the


    mirror, pleased with the result. It’s simple, but it’s elegant. And I look damn good in it.


    Smiling, I bustle from my room and hurry to open the door to the boys’ bedroom. “Alvin, Ian –“ I call and


    then stop short when I see them standing in the middle of their room, dressed in their posh little white


    suits, Alvin quietly straightening Ian’s tie.


    “What – what are you two doing up?”


    “We couldn’t wait,” Ian says, smiling at me.


    “We couldn’t sleep all night, we’re so excited,” Alvin says, finishing with his brother and striking a pose


    for me. “How do we look.”


    “You two look amazing,” I say, meaning every word of it. I stretch out my hands for them and we head


    down the stairs. “Now we just have to figure out how to feed you without getting lucky charm stains all


    over your clean clothes…”


    The ceremony starts precisely at noon, when the sun is at its zenith over our heads. The sun, for us, is


    a recognition of family, ofmunity, of culture. The moonlight is the space in which wee to know


    our selves, but in the sun – with the light of day – wee to recognize those to whom we are kin.


    Looking around, I have to admit – begrudgingly – that Amelia has done a wonderful job. The entire yard


    is elegantly draped in white, so much so that it almost looks like a little alpine vige, covered in snow.


    Beautiful white orbs hang from the trees; at night, they will be lit asnterns so that we can all celebrate


    under their soft glow.


    One hundred of us guests – a ceremonial number – stand in a grassy circle down by the edge of the


    property, by the trees through which you can see my own little cottage standing cheerily by. The rest of


    the guests – there are tons of them – gather around us, peaking around our shoulders to watch the


    action. There are politicians here, celebrities, members of the press – most of whom I don’t know and


    who I hope, very much, don’t recognize me.


    Gathered in the ceremonial circle are those whom Victor has deemed most important to our task today,


    everyone dressed in white (I guess they all got the memo). I scan the faces all around us and am


    pleased when I see that Edgar is in the circle. I smile at him and he returns it, blowing me a discreet


    kiss.


    I give him a wink, pleased to see that apparently he has forgiven me. I’m grateful for that. Looking


    around, I see a lot of Alphas who I know to be Victor’s contemporaries – important faces I’ve seen on


    television but never, before, in person. Men who I assume I would have met as Joyce’s bride, though


    we never got to that point.


    I’m a little surprised when I find my eyes alighting on James Wird, my own Alpha. He sees me


    looking and gives me a smile and a very small bow. I smile back at him. Wird is the Alpha of a very


    small, new, progressive, and rtively unimportant pack. Did Victor invite him here because of me? If


    so, it was a very kind gesture, and I’ll have to remember to thank him. It’s good for Wird, too, being


    able to rub shoulders with all of the big dogs.


    “Thank you foring.” Annabeth Prath steps out into the middle of the circle, dressed in a gorgeous


    white pantsuit. I was pleased when Victor told me that she would be running the ceremony – she’s


    important for him, politically, and I personally quite like her politics.


    “Today we are blessed to be able to witness this iming between a father and his sons,” Annabeth


    continues, her voice strong and steady. “Long separated by time, distance, and misunderstanding, they


    havee together today to recognize and respect their bond and their blood.”


    She puts her hands out to the side. “Victor, Alvin, Ian, will you pleasee forward.” The three walk


    steadily towards Annabeth and stop when Victor stands at her right hand and Alvin and Ian stand at her


    left. My heart aches sharply when I notice that Alvin and Ian are holding each other’s hands.


    As they walk forward, I notice the circle close together behind them so that we are again united. Amelia


    is in the center of that group, gorgeous in her white strapless ballgown. Every inch the Alpha’s wife.


    “Victor,” Annabeth says, gesturing towards the ground at her feet. “you may begin.”


    Victor goes to one knee on the ground before Annabeth and the boys take a few steps so that they’re


    both facing him. Victor pulls a bone-handled knife from his pocket. It looks ancient, but gleams as if


    new.


    “Boys,” Victor says, working to keep his voice steady. To most, I imagine he seems sessful, but


    knowing him, I can tell that his heart is very much in his throat. “From the moment I met you, I knew


    that you were very special, very brave, and very much my own.


    “Today,” he continues. “I want the world to recognize our bond as one of bone and flesh, the


    unbreakablemitment of a father to his sons.” With this, he draws the dagger across his left palm.Please check at N/?vel(D)rama.Org.


    Blood wells up in tiny beads, soon bing a trickle.


    “With this,” Victor says, putting the knife back in his pocket and dipping the index finger of his right


    hand into his blood, “I mark you as my children and my heirs. Ian,” he intones solemnly, drawing a line


    of blood down Ian’s face from forehead to chin, “my first born. And Alvin,” he marks Alvin the same


    way, continuing, “also my first born. Brothers, equal in rights.”


    Alvin and Ian work to keep their faces straight, struggling not to break into a smile. I press my own


    hands to my mouth, as thrilled as they on this happy day.


    As the final act of the ceremony, Victor holds his bloody hand out to the boys. “Do you ept?” he


    asks. Almost as one, Ian and Alvin reach to grasp Victor’s hand, their own hands growing red. Then,


    they each press their hand to Victor’s cheek, leaving a five-pointed mark of their ownmitment, their


    own iming of their father.


    When this is done, the crowd breaks out into a vivid cheer. I join with them, hollering and pping my


    heart out, my eyes and heart full. Alvin catches my eye and then, a momentter, Ian does the same.


    They both wave their little bloody hands at me and I can’t helpughing myself silly. The press goes


    wild, snapping as many photographs as they can, one even taking video.


    The cheering continues as Annabeth quickly produces a rolled-up document and all three parties add


    their signatures to the bottom of the page, careful to get as little blood on it as possible. Then, Victor


    escorts the boys back to the head of the circle.


    I turn, then, ready to head back to the pool area and celebrate with my children, when I hear Annabeth


    speak over my shoulder.


    “One moment, please,” she calls, returning everyone to their ces in the circle and beyond. “Alpha


    Kensington has requested my services for one more matter.”


    What is this?