The Promise by Donna Boyd

Author:Donna Boyd
Format: epub
ISBN: 0-380-97450-9
Published: 1998-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

XVIII

The ascension ceremony was held the next day, and traditionally began at sunset. By the time all the speeches were made and all the welcomes given, dusk would have fallen, and the glow of a hundred Passions, one after another, would make a spectacular display upon the twilight landscape. There then would follow a pack run through the moonlight, and for the first time we would run as full-fledged members of the pack, adults alongside adults, claiming our place.

Excitement crackled through the corridors of Palais Devoncroix like ground lightning, for nothing is more contagious than the exuberance of youth. The day was spent going from feast to feast with our families, being teased and toasted and required to suffer all manner of well-meant advice. I had by this time two more brothers and three sisters, and as part of the ritual, Matise and I were each required to pledge our loyalty to them with a kiss. Late in the afternoon we were sent back to our rooms to bathe and brush our hair until it gleamed and perfume our bodies and prepare our minds for the solemnity of the occasion to come.

Maman came to me in private not long after I had stepped from my bath. Freda, with whom I had chosen to share the room, was polishing her hair with silk scarves in the sunny western window embrasure, and I could hear the tiny crinkling sounds her hair made as it was charged with static electricity from the silk and the sun. Freda got to her feet immediately when Maman entered, but Maman waved her down again.

“A word alone with my daughter, if you don’t mind, my dear,” she said.

Had she said “private,” that would have been Freda’s command to leave the room and put as much distance as she could between us so that none of our words could be overheard. As it was, however, the polite thing for Freda to do was to turn her back and pretend not to hear. It’s such a silly thing, really, for werewolves to try to keep secrets.

Maman took my hands and stepped back an arm’s length from me, smiling as she looked over my form. “What a beautiful young female you’ve grown to be, Brianna. All that red hair, such a lovely figure. You bring joy to your father’s heart and mine every time we look at you.”

I grinned back at her. “I agree. I am quite striking to look at. But I owe you and Papa the thanks for that.”

She laughed and tugged at my hands, bringing me to sit with her on the brocade divan adjacent to where she stood. She gazed gently into my eyes and filled me with contentment, my mother, symbol of all that was good and strong and correct, this perfect female, this quintessential werewolf. She had skin of porcelain and eyes of crystal and a pale rich abundance of hair that tumbled over her shoulders and caressed her hips. She smelled of sunshine

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