The Temple of Sacrifice

by Tameri Etherton

  Hayden smiled at her when the others left. “You are remarkable, do you know that?”

  “Why? Because I sent my maids to eat? That sounds sensible to me.”

  He chuckled and let the question stand. “Tell me—was it the same Shadow Assassin from Paderau?”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “I’ve been coming to this city my entire life. I can’t recall a single time there was violence during the celebrations. This is a friendly place with good people who aren’t accustomed to attacks in broad daylight. Who else could it be?”

  “Yes, it was the same man. He’s being questioned now.” She scowled at her cousin. “You have to promise you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”

  “I will promise, but believe me, half the city knows by now. Would you like me to stay with you until your maids return?”

  “Thank you, but I’d like to be alone for a while.”

  “I’ll have some tea and cakes sent up. I’m sure you’ve not eaten all day.” He kissed her forehead and left her alone with Ellie.

  Taryn gently wiped the dried blood from Ellie’s neck and hair. She removed her stained clothes before dressing her in a nightgown. As she was finishing, Ellie woke from her drugged sleep, moaning in pain.

  “Princess,” Ellie said in a sleepy voice. “Where am I?” She struggled to sit up, but Taryn put a hand on her shoulder.

  “You’re in my rooms. Lie still.”

  “My head hurts.” Ellie prodded the paste on her cheek. “Oh.” She gave a little sob. “It wasn’t a dream?” Tears filled her eyes and she squeezed them shut.

  “I’m sorry, my darling girl. You need to rest, so you’ll get better.” Taryn sent a silent thought to Darius to bring food for Ellie and another to Faelara asking for more of the sleeping draught. “You’re going to stay with me until you’re healed.”

  Ellie’s fingertips fluttered above the paste on her cheek. “Will I be scarred?”

  Taryn took a deep breath before saying, “Most likely, but Rhoane and I did our best to leave you unmarked.”

  Tears slid down her cheek into her hair. “Why, Princess? Why me?”

  There it was. The one question she’d been dreading. “The man who attacked you today…” Tears stung Taryn’s eyes. “He thought you were me.” She struggled to hold herself together, but Ellie deserved to know the truth. “I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “Forgive you? Why, Your Highness?” Ellie asked in a quiet voice.

  “It was I who insisted you go with Darius.” Taryn searched her eyes. “If I hadn’t made you wear my cloak…oh, God, Ellie, I’m so sorry.” Tears flowed over her cheeks to drip on their clasped hands. Her runes shimmered beneath the liquid and then flared for an instant before settling into her skin, too quick for Ellie to see, but one rune in particular caught Taryn’s attention.

  “If what you say is true, then the attack on me saved your life today. For that, I will be forever grateful.”

  “How can you say such a thing?” She lifted her gaze from her wrist to search Ellie’s eyes, seeing there a strength she’d never noticed. Fierce. Noble.

  “I am but a maid in your household, my lady. You are invaluable to the realm.”

  Taryn kissed Ellie on the lips, holding her face between her hands. “I’m lucky to have you with me.”

  “No, Your Highness, it is I who am blessed.” She squeezed Taryn’s hand. “What of Darius? Is he…?”

  “He is unharmed. In fact, he is the reason you are with us now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Taryn told Ellie a condensed version of events at the shop, omitting the more gruesome details.

  “Do you think he will shun me now that I am marked?” Her fingertips again fluttered above the paste, a deep furrow creasing her brow.

  Anger swelled in Taryn, followed by a cut of pity. Ellie wasn’t a soldier who wore her scars with honor, but a simple girl who was caught up in something larger than she was.

  “I doubt very much that Darius is shallow enough to worry about something so trivial. And if he does, then I’ll just have to kick his ass, won’t I?”

  “You wouldn’t!” Excitement danced in her eyes. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you when you first arrived in Talaith. It was unfair of me to judge you. I am grateful you chose me to stay with you.”

  “I am blessed to have you in my life, my sweet Ellie.” Taryn wrapped her in a powerful hug, her ShantiMari swirling like a vortex.

  Ellie’s muffled voice wheezed, “I can’t breathe.”

  Taryn reluctantly let her go. She would make it up to Ellie, somehow. “Darius should be here soon with your dinner. Let’s tidy you up before he arrives.”

  She helped Ellie to a sofa and brushed out her hair, much to Ellie’s dismay. She was tucking several pillows and a blanket around the girl when Darius entered, followed closely by Lorilee and Saeko. By the time Faelara arrived with the sleeping draught, Ellie looked tired. Only after she dozed off did Taryn allow the other two girls to help with her attire for the evening.

  At Sabina’s party, Taryn did her best to appear carefree in the company of her friends. She smiled too much and drank spiced cider to dull the pain. As Hayden predicted, news of the attack spread through the court faster than vorlock venom through veins, but no one wanted to ruin Sabina’s night. Eventually, Taryn’s sisters pulled her aside to ask after her welfare and that of her maid. Eliahnna and Tessa’s concern for Ellie touched Taryn.

  Sabina hugged her friend, whispering in her ear, “Thank you. For coming tonight and for my lovely ring. I love you, my friend.”

  Taryn held her tightly, trembling. “I love you, too.” Tears stung her eyes and she looked away before Sabina could see them. Every person gathered there that evening was a potential target to her enemies. She couldn’t help but worry the next attack would be against them. The thought filled her heart with dread. With a determined effort, she forced a smile and laughed at Hayden’s ludicrous jokes.

  She had to be brave for them. To not show the fear that lingered in her every thought. It was nothing to pretend for the evening, but that night in Taryn’s bed, Rhoane held her close as she cried in his arms. His protective embrace couldn’t shield her from the realities she faced, but for a little while, he soothed her fractured nerves.

  The next morning as the sun was cresting over the mountains, Taryn strode silently to the dungeons. She’d barely slept for the nightmares that chased through her mind. She wanted answers that only the assassin could provide. Rhoane walked beside her, his face set in a grim reminder he didn’t agree with her and thought she should stay away from the prisoner.

  She stood before the assassin in the cramped cell, following the threads of ShantiMari that held him taut. She recognized most of them, but several were new, probably from the soldiers guarding him. No one wanted anything to happen to the prisoner on their watch.

  For a long time, days perhaps or merely a bell—she couldn’t tell in the dim dankness beneath the castle—she studied him. He kept his head lowered, his eyes trained on the floor. Golden strands of hair obscured most of his face, but what she could see might have been handsome on a living soul.

  An aquiline nose and strong jaw, dark brows that bent toward each other in a frown. Pale lips stretched to a thin line against even paler skin. Not quite white, but not cream, either. Eggshells. His skin was the color of a fresh egg. She peered closer, beyond his flesh to where his veins, an odd hue of blue-grey, crisscrossed beneath his skin.

  Shadow Assassins were born of death. They had no worldly appetites or functions, but this one bled. The tiniest of flutters indicated a heartbeat, but she heard nothing to indicate life inside his corpse.

  “Who are you?” she asked in a near whisper, forcing him to strain to hear. A thread of her ShantiMari wrapped around him, probing his skin and bones. Her fingers twitched to touch his flesh, but she instinctively knew Rhoane would never allow it. “I said, who are you?” She tightened her power
and he flinched. So. He could feel.

  The assassin lifted his head, glaring at her with his hollow eyes. “I am you.” Laughter, low and manic, came from his sternum.

  A sharp pain cut at her heart and blackness crept along the edge of her vision. Her ShantiMari trembled in her veins, unsettling her. “Who sent you?” Taryn labored to stay calm, in control.

  He dipped his head between his shoulders. The laughter stopped. A sneer crossed his face as he glanced at Rhoane, then back to Taryn. “Ceadach lambeth.”

  “No!” Rhoane slammed his hand over the assassin’s mouth. “Taryn, get out of here.”

  “What did he say?” She squeezed her power against the assassin and he moaned in pain.

  “Taryn, please,” Rhoane insisted, his voice steel, unyielding. “I will explain everything, but you must leave at once.”

  She tied off her power, securing it around the man before backing out of the cell. Rhoane spoke rapidly in Eleri, his ShantiMari flooding the room. Her pendant blazed against her skin and she ran up the steps, bursting through the door to the outside world. She bent double, gasping for breath.

  “Taryn, is everything all right?” Myrddin’s voice came from beside her.

  “I just need some fresh air.” She stood upright, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. The ice pick of pain continued, spreading from her heart outward to her extremities.

  “You’ve been visiting the prisoner, I see.” He glanced at the door behind them. “Nasty business, that. Has Rhoane been able to extract any useful information?”

  “Not yet. Perhaps you should try.”

  Myrddin stroked his beard. “I’m sure the captain can handle it. If you’ve recovered, I’ve been sent to fetch you. It seems your mother is quite keen to see you race today. I’ve been told to make certain you arrive in time for the event.”

  She glared at him, confused. “Are you serious? She expects me to race with that…that thing down there?”

  “The assassin is well guarded. There is no threat to you, my dear, so why shouldn’t you compete as planned?”

  Taryn bit back several choice words. A soothing warmth enveloped her with gentle suggestions of calm. She’d never experienced Myrddin’s power, nor did she expect it to be as comforting as it was. There was a strength to the threads unlike any she’d ever known. Myrddin would never give an exact age, but rumors said he was over four thousand seasons. With his ShantiMari cloaking her with gentle caresses, she guessed he was even older. She wrapped a tendril of her own power through his, tucking a strand of his care away for later.

  “You’re right, of course.”

  He placed her hand in the crook of his arm and ambled toward the castle proper. “I know this is difficult, Taryn, but you can’t let the assassin or anything else deter you from living a life worth having.” His blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, full of mirth as usual. “You are the Eirielle, yes, but you are also a young woman. You should be enjoying yourself, not constantly under pressure.”

  “Easier said than done, my friend.”

  His arm slid around her shoulders and he held her close. The scent of his tower filled her nostrils. Musty, like old books, but in a comforting way. “You’ve forgotten how to relax and laugh. The girl I met on the road to Ravenwood laughed easily and often. I’d like to see her again sometime.”

  She returned his hug, at once reassured and protected.

  “And you shall.” They continued in comfortable silence until Taryn broached a subject she’d often wondered about. “Myrddin, you keep saying your power is too old to help me unlock my Dark Shanti, but I don’t think it is. Are you sure there’s nothing you can do to help?”

  “With your powers, no. I’m afraid I speak true. My ShantiMari is of an age very different from now. What I can do is help to instruct and reinforce what the others have already shown you.”

  “I suppose that’s better than nothing.” They passed a terrace that overlooked a river far below and Taryn stopped to admire the view. “When we return to Talaith, can we at least resume our studies? Perhaps you can search other libraries and oracles for clues that might help in my path?”

  “I would be honored.” He leaned over a sturdy wall, his face hidden in shadow. “I have a confession to make. When you first arrived, I kept myself aloof. Not because of anything you’d done, but from petty jealousy.” He straightened and faced her, taking her hands in his. “You see, Taryn, I always wished you’d been my daughter with Lliandra.”

  At her shocked expression, he continued, “Yes, your mother and I have been lovers for quite some time. Even through Valterys and Zakael, I was by her side. I’ve loved Lliandra since before I can remember. When she conceived you with Valterys, my heart broke a tiny bit. But then, when she sent you away with Brandt, well, I took my anger out on you, I suppose. Can you forgive me?”

  Myrddin had been Brandt’s oldest friend, like brothers. Walking beside him under the glow of a Wintertide sun, she shared a little of what they’d had. “There’s nothing to forgive. You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

  He escorted her to her apartments, chatting all the while about his and Brandt’s escapades. She listened to the stories with a newfound fondness for the mage. He would never replace Brandt, but it was nice to have someone who knew her grandfather. No matter what Lliandra or anyone said, to Taryn, Brandt would always be her grandfather. He gave up his mortal life to protect her. He deserved much more than the honorific.

  Rhoane entered her rooms just as she was gathering her skates and cloak. “Will you still race, then?”

  “I’ve been given a royal command, so yes.”

  “Then I will accompany you.”

  “You can tell me what the assassin said on the way.”

  “We are lucky. The assassin attempted to place an ancient curse on you, but his power is weak.”

  “What kind of curse?” She ducked around several courtiers dressed in their winter finery, chittering excitedly about the assassin. When they saw Taryn, their faces froze in a moment of horror before they recovered themselves. “That’s not obvious or anything.” Taryn indicated the horde.

  “Ignore them. They will make up stories to entertain their half-witted minds.” Anger laced every syllable, giving his words a bite.

  Taryn reached for his hand, taking it in her own and squeezing. “Thank you. For protecting me, for believing in me, and for loving me even though I’m a super freak.”

  He pressed her fingers to his lips and winked. Once they passed through the gates, Rhoane said low enough only she could hear, “The assassin used a curse favored by the Black Brotherhood. It is meant to stun your powers long enough for another to take control.”

  The night she saw Marissa with the phantom, she’d been compelled to do whatever her sister asked. “Can someone do that? I mean, I know Rykoto blocked my powers, but can someone else, not a god, take control of another?”

  “It is possible, but unlikely. The person being controlled needs to be extremely susceptible to suggestion. We are lucky you are not such a person.”

  Taryn wasn’t as sure as her beloved. Something had weakened her in Marissa’s rooms and made her believe she was stabbed.

  “I am most vexed by the archaic language he used. It has not been in fashion for many millennia.”

  “The person controlling him must have access to ancient wisdom and curses. Which means we need to know what he knows. Oh joy, more studying.”

  Rhoane squinted at her from the corner of his eye. “I do not know if this makes you happy or not. I thought you enjoyed your time in the library.”

  “I do. When I’m reading for pleasure and not for survival.”

  The midday bells began their lengthy melody just as they approached the skating rink. Taryn’s stomach pinched when she saw the gathered crowd. She slipped on the bone blades and made a few laps to loosen her tense muscles.

  Tessa skated gracefully to them. “I was afraid you’d back out. Are you well, my sister? You look
pale.”

  “I’m well enough to beat you.” Taryn forced a smile.

  “Nice try, but I can see through you. The assassin is locked in a cell. You are safe now.” Her words echoed Myrddin’s in a chilling way.

  “I know, but his presence unnerves me. Let’s not dwell on that. I have a surprise for you after the race.”

  “But I haven’t won yet,” Tessa argued.

  “It isn’t a prize for winning, dear sister. Besides, who’s to say you will win? I’ve been practicing all week with Rhoane.”

  “She is quite good, Princess. You have some competition this season,” Rhoane teased.

  The announcer called the skaters to their post and Taryn gave Rhoane a quick kiss before she skated off to take her mark. When the race started, she lunged, skating as fast as she could. The transition from steel blades back to bone was awful. She fought against the ice for speed. Thoughts of the assassin and Ellie were replaced with staying upright. Not making an ass of herself became her new focus. Tessa passed on her left and Taryn dug deep to catch up to the spry little thing.

  As they rounded the first corner, one skater passed Taryn and then another. Soon she found herself competing for last place. Eventually, she managed to catch up to the lead pack, but Tessa was too fast. When she skated past the royal box for the last time, Tessa waved to her family, blowing kisses. The race was complete. Taryn neither won nor lost.

  “Well done, sister. I had money placed you wouldn’t even finish. You lost me two silver crowns,” Tessa confessed after the race.

  “You bet against me? How could you?” Taryn wanted to be hurt, but found it delightful in a sardonic way.

  “I’ve seen you skate, and you aren’t that good,” Tessa said matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah, well, let this be a lesson to never bet against me.”

  Tessa glided to the royal box to receive her prize from Lliandra while Taryn held back to clap for the winners. She was removing the blades from her boots when a shadow fell across the snow.

  Lliandra stood in front of her, a vision in a deep-green velvet cape and hat. “Do you think me terrible for making you race today?”