The Temple of Sacrifice

by Tameri Etherton

  “Prince Rhoane. Always a naughty boy, always sneaking into my rooms unnoticed. We have a front door, you know.” She tossed her auburn curls and pouted prettily as she moved toward him, her hips swinging out, her breasts bouncing in their scanty bits of lace.

  “Nena, always a pleasure.” Rhoane took the mistress of the house’s fingers in his own, kissing them. “I need information. What do you know about any Black Masters who might have come into the city in the last season?”

  Nena snatched her hand from his grip. “Always the same with you. Never any fun. No foreplay, just ‘Nena, tell me what you know.’ One day I would like to show you what I know instead of telling you.” She sat at her dressing table and ran a brush through her luxurious curls. “I can’t help you with your query. Men of that persuasion don’t seek out my boys and girls. They like their encounters more, shall we say, pure.”

  “I thought as much, but how could I pass up a chance to visit with you?”

  She gave him a cold stare in her mirror. “If you want my opinion—and that is all you ever want from me, unfortunately—I think the answer to your riddle lies somewhere in the streets of this city. Someone must have seen this mysterious assassin of yours.”

  Rhoane shouldn’t have been surprised she knew about the assassin, but he was. “I was not aware that is common knowledge.”

  “My darling prince, since when am I common?”

  “Never, and that is why I adore you.”

  With a sly smile, she said, “And I, you. We could make very beautiful dreams together, Prince Rhoane.”

  “I am sure we could, but then what? The dream would end and we would be left with all our worldly faults.” Rhoane stood, indicating the visit was at an end. “Better that I leave you with your dreams, my dear.”

  “I hope she is worth it,” Nena said, catching Rhoane off guard. “Your mysterious beauty of the three powers.”

  “She is. Believe me, she is.”

  Nena regarded him for several heartbeats before lifting his marked hand and tracing a rune. “She is not in danger, at least not at the moment, but her heart yearns for her beloved.” The madam’s voice held a strange, tinny echo and Rhoane peered into her eyes, beyond the dark irises to the depths of her core.

  “How do you know this?”

  Her lips quirked and the voice replied, “We know all about the Eirielle. You have wronged her, Prince Rhoane of the Eleri. Without her strength, you will fade. Without her love, you are ash. Restore her faith. Restore Aelinae.”

  Nena’s eyes rolled back and she collapsed into her chair. Rhoane lifted her and gently placed her on the bed. He left the house more determined than ever to find answers to the ever-increasing riddles.

  It took Rhoane the better part of a bell to find Iselt, the blacksmith, amid all of Talaith’s workmen’s quarters. He finally found him, hidden behind a tanner in one of the poorer districts of the city. Baehlon hadn’t known why the man relocated to Talaith, only that Taryn had given him instructions to help the man in any way necessary. From what Rhoane could see, Iselt needed more help than he was receiving.

  The dark smithy was less than half the size of the one he had at Celyn Eryri. The stench of rotting corpses filled the air and the streets were dotted with pools of scum-topped water. The slum was no place for a man of Iselt’s talent. Whatever brought him south must’ve been of great importance. Unfortunately, Iselt wasn’t in a sharing mood. Not only did he refuse to discuss why he left Celyn Eryri, he pretended to know nothing of Baehlon. If Iselt were disagreeable before, he was outright rude to Rhoane now.

  Of Taryn, he said nothing at all.

  Frustrated and discouraged, Rhoane slammed his fist on the bench, making Iselt’s tools jump. “Dammit, man, she is out there alone while the man who seeks her death roams free. She told Baehlon to help you so I know there is a connection to her, one you are not willing to divulge. If there is something you know that can help her, please share it with me.”

  Iselt shifted from one foot to the other, chewing the inside of his cheek. Finally, he went inside his workroom, leaving Rhoane standing alone by the forge. He was about to leave when Iselt returned with a leather pouch in his hand.

  “Do I have your word as an Eleri that what we discuss here will go nowhere else?”

  Rhoane kissed his thumb and put it first to his forehead and then his heart. “You have my word.”

  Iselt handed the pouch to Rhoane and turned away, as if ashamed of what Rhoane would find.

  Rhoane tentatively upturned the pouch, cautious of the contents. “What are these?” A silver star and small dagger untangled from a very fine cloth.

  Iselt faced him. “Those came from your assassin. The princess brought them to me in Celyn Eryri. She needed my help finding the maker.” His hands shook as he took the pouch from Rhoane, tucking the items inside. “I gave her my oath I would tell no one.”

  Rhoane gripped the man’s arm. “If you gave your oath to Taryn, then you just as soon gave one to me. Were you successful?”

  “I was able to trace them to a blacksmith living in a small village on the banks of Lake Eion. Dagwin or something. Doesn’t matter because he’s dead. Seems he met with a terrible accident last Harvest. He had no heirs and his business was parceled out to anyone who cared. I did some snooping, but couldn’t find more of these weapons and no one remembered who ordered them made.”

  It wasn’t much, but it was a start. “Thank you, my friend.” Rhoane surveyed the small stall. “How is business treating you?”

  Iselt shrugged. “It’s slow with so many forges in town, but I make my way.”

  “Those skates you crafted for us, they were a work of art. A man with your talent could do a whole lot better than this.”

  “I like to keep to myself.”

  “Of course you do. If you ever decide otherwise, we could use a man like you up at the palace.”

  Iselt stared hard at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Despite his gruff exterior and surly countenance, Rhoane liked the man. He leaned against a counter, stroking his chin in thought.

  “Will you be staying all day? I could order us some tea.”

  “It seems I will be traveling in the next few days. I was thinking of taking a pleasure cruise, but you would be better suited to take my place.”

  “I’m a land man, Your Highness.”

  “Of course you are.” Rhoane pushed off from the counter and cracked his neck. “Join me for a little chat down by the docks and see if perhaps I cannot change your mind. The pay is better than you make here in a moonturn and you would be helping the princess.”

  Iselt eyed him skeptically. He’d hoped the mention of Taryn would help, but it only served to upset the blacksmith more. Rhoane stalled his departure by drawing a copy of the dagger and throwing star, making certain to get the marks just right. When he finished, he tucked the paper in a pocket.

  “In a bell then?” he asked carefully, fully expecting Iselt to decline.

  “Where is this meeting to take place? I can’t just lumber around the docks, now can I?”

  Relief swept over him. He gave Iselt the address with an admonition to be certain he wasn’t followed and to tell no one.

  Iselt gave his word, and to Rhoane’s surprise, swore him to his oath once more, leaving Rhoane to wonder what exactly had transpired between the man and Taryn.

  He hurried to the palace, alerting Hayden he’d found the perfect spy to board Adesh’s ship. They only needed to connect him with Amanda, and to possibly let Denzil know of their plan. Hayden insisted on accompanying Rhoane to the docks in his ridiculous peasant attire. He suffered the fool for the benefit of his ego. Iselt arrived at the appointed location on time and the introductions were made.

  Amanda scrunched up her nose at Hayden’s appearance but evaluated Iselt like an Ullan buying a foal. When she finished assessing the man, she turned her attention to Rhoane.

  “Why don’t ye come with us? We could use another good man like
ye aboard ship.”

  “Thank you, but my services are required elsewhere.” He’d been debating all afternoon about postponing his trip north to sail with Iselt. Not just to uncover Lliandra’s illegal dealings, but to learn more about the man. The fact was, finding the Shadow Assassin was far more important to him than taxes, but if Iselt was important to Taryn’s future, that took precedence.

  “If ye change yer mind, we sail on the tide two days hence.”

  Rhoane left Iselt with Amanda and her charming mother Matilde, who served them bitter tea in chipped Danuri cups, and returned to the palace with Hayden in tow. They discussed at length the role Denzil would play, agreeing for the moment to keep his involvement secret from Baehlon. The last time Rhoane tried to mention his brother’s name, the giant knight had bellowed enough to frighten citizens in the neighboring kingdom.

  Which was exactly what he did when Rhoane told him he’d be traveling north, undercover and alone.

  “Taryn will return any day and you’re taking off to lands unknown on a fool’s errand. And for what? The possibility of finding a blacksmith who might’ve made some weapons ages ago.”

  “I cannot stay here and wait. I need to keep myself occupied or I will go mad with worry.”

  “It sounds to me like you’re running away.”

  “I can get information that will help us. If I stay here, I will just be tormented by Marissa.”

  “The princess keeps to herself. I’ve yet to see her this past cycle of the moon. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

  Rhoane had kept Marissa’s secret, but it was time to tell his friend the truth. “She is with child and says I am the father.” Saying the words aloud did nothing to dispel the unpleasantness of them.

  “And you believe her? She’s got more lovers than hairs on a carlix. I hear even her maids are used in ways better left for Nena’s house. She’ll take any advantage to put a wedge between you and Taryn.”

  “And for that reason I must leave Talaith. It was not until Marissa told me the child was mine that I saw all of her actions have been calculated to her desires. I will not fail Taryn again.”

  “Now you’re speaking like a true prince. Go on your adventure, but what do I tell Taryn when she returns? Lliandra seems to think she’ll be back for her birthing day. I hope so. The empress is planning a grand event to celebrate.”

  “She is?” Rhoane asked, surprised. He’d heard nothing of the plans. “How do you know?”

  Baehlon grinned. “The servants. Taryn was right. They know everything that happens in this palace.”

  “Truly?” Rhoane was impressed. “If Taryn returns before me, tell her I will be here for her birthing day. Do not tell her where I have gone. Knowing her, she will try to rescue me and with any luck, she will succeed.”

  Baehlon laughed out loud and clapped Rhoane on the shoulder. “That she would. It’s good to have you back, my friend.”

  Rhoane gave him a sharp look. “Was I really that bad?”

  “Worse, but let’s not dwell upon it. We have plans to make and stories to concoct. I’ll have to tell the empress something about your sudden departure.” Baehlon poured himself some wine and another glass for Rhoane. “Now then, where are you going—let’s start with the hard one first.”

  They spent the evening with their heads together, planning Rhoane’s elaborate lie. Alasdair brought them dinner and Faelara stopped in to offer assistance. When they had his attire set and the ruse in order, Baehlon escorted Faelara out of Rhoane’s rooms. He was settling in for the night when a knock on his door made him tense. Alasdair escorted Princess Marissa to his sitting room and Rhoane gave him a dark look.

  Alasdair said by way of explanation, “I told Her Highness that you were retired for the evening, but she insisted.” Rhoane nodded, dismissing his valet. He remained standing, not offering her a seat. “What do you want, Marissa?”

  “Won’t you at least offer me a glass of wine?”

  “No. Tell me what it is and be gone.”

  “You wound me, Rhoane.” Her brows knit very prettily. When he said nothing, she continued, “I came here tonight to share my news. The baby is moving. I thought you’d like to feel your son.” She reached out to take his hand, but he snatched it away.

  “You have given me no proof this is my child. I understand you have many lovers—some you used just like me.”

  “You listen to the gossip of servants and scorned suitors. I thought you a better man, Prince Rhoane of the Eleri.” Marissa tossed her hair with a stamp of her foot.

  “Yes, I am an Eleri prince and if this child is mine, then I will take him to the Narthvier to raise him as such.” He watched her face carefully and almost smiled when a flicker of fear lit in her eyes.

  “You’ll do no such thing. Our son will be raised here as a prince of the realm, with both of his parents.”

  “A son cannot inherit the Light Throne, but he can be heir to the Weirren Throne. As I am next in line for my father’s crown, my son will take my place if I so choose. Taryn and I will take him to his people and raise him as an Eleri.”

  Marissa’s chuckle sounded more like Kaida’s growl. “And you think your lovely betrothed will forgive you so easily? You assume she will accept this child? That she’ll love him? Then you are a fool.”

  Rhoane’s hand shot out to grab Marissa by the throat, slamming her against the wall. She cried out and clawed at his hand, but he held her firm. “You do not know the first thing about my Taryn. She would raise this child as her own. She would love him because she loves me. She possesses something you have never known. Kindness.”

  “You think she’ll show you compassion when she returns and learns about our child?” Marissa pulled her dress away to show him a small cut above her heart, fresh and bleeding. “This is the kindness she gave me at Gaarendahl. Nothing I do will heal it. At times, the pain is so severe I must stay abed all day.”

  He sensed Taryn’s ShantiMari in the wound, her rage and pain mingled with Marissa’s blood, but there was grace as well. While keeping one hand on her throat, he reached his other toward her breast.

  She arched toward him, moaning as if he’d stroked her.

  “Stop it. I am not touching you for pleasure. She is kind, Marissa. If she had been anything else, you would be dead. The gods know I would have killed you given the chance.”

  Marissa’s face lost color, but her chin rose in defiance. “You call this kindness? Wounding me for all time?”

  “You deserved nothing less and you know it. What did you expect from her? Sympathy? She showed incredible bravery that night. She was angry and confused, hurt by your betrayal and mine. Tell me, what would you have done in her place?”

  Marissa glared at him. “I would never have been so stupid as to be there to begin with. As far as I’m concerned, she deserved what she got.”

  “I cannot kill you, Marissa, because you carry an innocent life, but—” He pinched her skin, forcing his Shanti into her, mixing it with Taryn’s. “If this child is not mine, every Eleri will know of your betrayal and deceit.”

  Her eyes widened and she trembled slightly.

  “Past, present, and future Eleri will know Princess Marissa of the Light Throne sought to destroy me and the one I love. The one they know and revere as the Darennsai. They will know of her forgiveness and your betrayal. Forever more, you will be known as the Black Princess for your evil deeds and dark heart. You will become the monster mothers threaten their children with.”

  “You go too far.” Delicate tears flowed down her face to his hand. “Don’t do this. Please.”

  “If you are without fault, then these are nothing but empty words.” He pressed down on her wound to finish the oath. “This I swear, as First Son and Eleri Prince Rhoane, Surtentse and betrothed to Taryn Rose of House Galendrin.”

  Marissa screamed and he released her.

  “Get out of my room.”

  She bent over, gasping for air. When she rose, a fire lit her lavender ey
es. “You’ll regret this, Rhoane. When our child is born, it is you who will suffer.” She turned to go and he grabbed her arm.

  “If you tell a soul about this child before it is born, you will not live to give birth to it.”

  “I’m starting to show—certainly there will be suspicion.” He could almost see her mind working frantically. “At least let me tell Mother.”

  “No one shall know of this child. If it is mine, I have this right.” He stood to his full height and she cowered before him.

  “I will tell no one,” she said, her voice nothing more than a whisper.

  A low gurgle started in his belly, working its way up to his chest, bubbling out of him in uncontrollable laughter. In that moment of madness, he let go of the anguish he’d held onto since Gaarendahl. What was broken inside him began to mend. For the first time since that terrible night, he wanted to be whole once more. He was Eleri and he belonged—mind, body, and soul—to Taryn. If she would still have him.

  A FEW days later, he slipped out of the palace grounds before daybreak, heading north. Fayngaar managed to slouch as they trundled past the guards, pulling a cart laden with spices and exotic fruits from the Summerlands. Rhoane, his hair shorn to above his ears and wearing patched peasant’s clothing, saluted the guards while whistling a happy tune. The going would be slow, but he needed to keep up the disguise if he were to track down the assassin.

  The moonless sky glittered with the last remaining stars, and Rhoane gazed toward Dal Tara. He sent a silent prayer to his goddess for guidance and another to Nadra that she watch over Taryn and keep her safe.