The Temple of Sacrifice

by Tameri Etherton

  She stormed to her apartments, ignoring the curious stares of servants and courtiers. Her maids scurried out of her way as she strode to her bedchamber. Their questions fell around her unanswered as she locked the door to her room and cradled Kaida in her arms. Gian crept to her bed, startling her. She’d forgotten she left him there before the party. She held up the blanket for him to crawl into bed with her and the grierbas. His small face was close enough she could see freckles on his nose that she’d not noticed before. He stroked her hair, murmuring quietly with his maimed mouth until her fury diminished and she fell into a fitful sleep. The last thing she recalled was Kaida asking the boy to move off her paw.

  THE funeral for Marissa was held at sunset. The nobles and courtiers who only the previous day had gathered to celebrate Taryn’s birthing day now stood in silence as her sister’s body was carried in procession from the garden to the crypt. The ceremony had been short, with Lliandra’s high priest officiating.

  Myrddin said a few words, as did several members of the Privy Council and other courtiers who were fond of the crown princess. Taryn chose to keep her mourning private, refusing the offer to speak.

  Rhoane walked at her side, a grim expression on his face. Traces of the strain he’d been under were evident in the creases by his eyes. Marissa’s lies had nearly destroyed him, but Taryn saw joy returning with every smile he gave.

  She slipped her hand into his. He was hers, forever. If the events at the temple had taught her anything, it was to never take a moment of life for granted. It could end with a single touch of misplaced ShantiMari.

  As the lid slid shut on Marissa’s marble coffin, Lliandra sobbed quietly. Eliahnna wrapped her arms around their mother and Lliandra leaned her head against her daughter’s shoulder.

  The girl regained consciousness shortly after they returned from the north, with no memory of what transpired at the temple. She’d been sipping wine in the garden when Valterys asked her to show him a particular flower that only bloomed on summer nights. At some point, Zakael joined them and the last thing she recalled was Zakael’s face as he smashed his fist into her temple. Eliahnna swore that would be the last time anyone struck her. She told Taryn to expect her in the training ring each morning.

  Marissa’s death made Taryn the heir, but she refused the title. Eliahnna would make a far better empress. She just hoped it was what Eliahnna wanted.

  Tessa had been distraught to learn of Eliahnna’s capture and then Marissa’s death. She’d tried so hard for so long to win her oldest sister’s approval, it had become a part of her life. Now that Marissa was dead, Tessa tried to deal with the fact she would never have her sister’s love.

  Taryn took her hand, giving it a squeeze as they walked into the evening air. Birds sang in the trees and waves crashed on the rocks far below. Everything was as it should be, but for them, everything had changed.

  Dinner that evening was a somber affair as they reminisced about the princess, as was the custom. Eventually, the conversation turned to other topics. The mood lightened with the court once again making merry with music and laughter. Lliandra sat on her great throne, observing the courtiers chatting about nothing to do with her daughter.

  Taryn curtseyed low to the empress, showing her respect. “It pains me to see your grief, Mother.”

  Lliandra regarded her with tired eyes. Her mask of Mari was set firmly in place, but underneath it, Taryn saw the ravaged skin of someone who’d been crying all day.

  “I know you don’t share in this grief, daughter.” She held up a hand to stop Taryn’s denial. “Listen to them. They tell stories of a Marissa I never knew. They talk of happy memories, but are they of Marissa, or from their own lives? I must accept that part of what you’ve told me is true. I suppose I’ve always known it, but thought if I could love her enough, she would do right by my throne.”

  “You raised her to be a ruthless ruler, Mother. Don’t pretend to be the victim here.”

  “I suppose you’re right. I’m not the victim here, you are.”

  “Like hell I am. If that’s what you think of me, then you don’t know me at all.”

  “Lady Faelara told me in no uncertain terms how unfair to you I’ve been. I am unaccustomed to being spoken to so candidly. Except by you, of course. At first, I thought to punish her for the outburst, but your beloved cautioned me that if I were to harm Faelara, you would be quite vexed. It was a veiled threat, of course. You had, after all, just killed your father.”

  “I didn’t kill Valterys. For reasons I can’t even begin to fathom, Zakael did. I hope you don’t think I’d ever hurt you.”

  “I would hope that’s precisely what you’d do if I were anything like Valterys. You reminded me today that I wear this crown as a symbol for all of Aelinae, not just my own schemes or desires. If I’d listened to you, Marissa might still be alive.”

  “She chose her destiny. Now you must look to the future and do what you can to prepare Eliahnna for what comes next.”

  “Yes.” Lliandra’s eyes scanned the crowd for Eliahnna. “She will make a fine empress. She is wise and fair-minded. I used to be like her when I was younger.” Lliandra chuckled. “Gwyn always told me I was too practical to be a good empress. I miss my sister very much. Taryn, promise me you’ll take care of Eliahnna and Tessa when I’m gone.” Her gaze slid back to Taryn.

  “You have plenty of time to take care of them yourself. Let them know how much you love them. Teach them what you know of ruling. Above all, tell them you are proud to have them as daughters.”

  Lliandra snorted. “Is that what you’ve always sought from me? Approval?”

  “Yes. And your love.”

  “Useless things.” Lliandra waved her away. “Go—enjoy the evening with your friends. Let this be a celebration of life.”

  Lliandra clapped her hands, calling out for music, dancing, and wine. The crowd cheered and raised a glass to their empress.

  Taryn drifted through the crowd as if in a daze. Useless things, love and approval. The empress might be right. Certainly they had caused her heartache, but more than that, love had given Taryn purpose. Without that, there was no hope.

  Taryn had to keep the hope alive that she could somehow find a way to bring balance to Aelinae. With Zakael on the Obsidian Throne and Lliandra in failing health, the future of her home world was more precarious than ever.

  She and Kaida ambled aimlessly through the grounds, eventually stopping at the crypt where Marissa’s body was laid to rest. The cold marble was smooth against her skin when Taryn laid her head on the tomb.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Your father was wrong, Marissa. You were of Light and Dark, but you could never be the Eirielle. Why couldn’t you be content with the Light Throne? Why did you have to reach too far?”

  She lifted the marble lid, using her ShantiMari to slide it aside. Marissa looked serene in death, her pale skin a striking contrast to her dark hair. Taryn touched the place above her heart where she’d placed the sword at Gaarendahl. The wound had healed to a faint scar.

  She sensed Rhoane’s ShantiMari beneath her touch. He’d placed the oath on Marissa that Taryn heard in the temple. To the end, her sister had tried to destroy them. Taryn shook her head at the futility of Marissa’s actions.

  She embraced the anger that flowed through her, funneling it into Marissa’s corpse. Every moment of anguish Taryn suffered at the hands of her sister, she forced into her power. Heat blazed up her arm and she squeezed her eyes shut.

  She called on all her ShantiMari, begging mercy from the gods and goddesses, her immortal parents. Whether she sought to absolve Marissa or find forgiveness for herself, Taryn wasn’t sure. All her pain, her anger, the confusion and mistrust she’d gathered over the past season, she released into the flames that burned her hands, but left no mark.

  When at last the heat subsided, Taryn opened her eyes to see the destruction she caused. All that was left of her sister was a thick coating of ash. She produced a jar and funn
eled every last mote of ash into it before sliding the coffin closed. For good measure, she placed several wards over the lid to prevent anyone from discovering the princess had been taken. As an afterthought, she wove a delicate thread of Mari through the wards so that if anyone did open it, they would see a likeness of Marissa in perpetual slumber. Then she left the crypt for good.

  A gentle breeze whipped Taryn’s hair around her face when she stepped up onto the wall that surrounded a terrace overlooking the sea. She uncapped the jar, saying a prayer for her sister’s immortal soul. “May you find the peace in death that eluded you in life.” She upended the jar and the ashes were caught by the wind, scattering out across the ocean.

  “It did not have to end this way.” Rhoane stood a few feet from her. “I followed you to the crypt.”

  She threw the jar over the cliff, waiting until she heard the crash of pottery on the rocks below. “Whoever created the Shadow Assassin is skilled in the Black Arts and has access to court. Marissa caused enough pain in life. I can’t let her be used against us ever again. This is the only way I can be certain of that.”

  “What she did to me—to us—she deserves nothing less.” Rhoane sat beside her. “Marissa is gone, but the threat remains.”

  “Zakael.” Taryn leaned against him, sorrow burrowing in her chest because nothing would ever be the same. “He won’t soon forgive me for what happened at the temple. The battle is yet to begin, I fear.”

  “But not tonight.” He took her hand, pulling her up beside him.

  “We’ll be all right, won’t we?” Suddenly she was aware of his scent and the curve of his mouth as he smiled.

  “Even better. We will be together as we were meant to be. Fly with me.”

  They leapt off the wall, transforming into their dragon shapes in mid-air. Taryn let out a cry that seared the sky and Rhoane followed suit. Kaida ran along the wall, barking and jumping until they were far from shore. They dove and spiraled together as if dancing through the air.

  They passed over the oceans and lands as they had in her dream. When she saw the Narthvier, she knew where Rhoane was leading them. They shook off their dragon forms before touching the uppermost branches of the Weirren.

  “Why did you not tell me you could transform into a darathi vorsi?”

  “I did not know. A rune appeared one day and then a short while later, I felt compelled to become the great beast. It was then I found you drifting over the sea as a magnificent silver darathi vorsi.”

  She held her hand to his, their runes sparking against the night sky. “We still need Ohlin’s bond to be complete.” His fingers curled over hers. “Are you certain, Rhoane? These past few moonturns have not been pleasant for either of us.”

  “True, but we are as one, are we not?” She opened her mouth to argue and he pressed his lips to hers. “We both had doubts, yes, but we had faith, yes? We had hope.”

  “Yes, hope. Faith, trust, and—” She sat up, a thrill igniting her senses. “Glitter.” She folded her fingers into a fist and opened them to reveal a mound of sparkling crystal shards. “We are capable of anything, you and I. But we are stronger together. Before anything else is spoken, before we even consider completing our bonding, there is something you must know.”

  The intensity of his stare unnerved her and she gripped the crystals for reassurance. “I do not possess the trinity, Rhoane.” He started to argue and she continued, cutting him off. “When the phantom touched my soul, he did not stain me with his Black Shanti—he unlocked my own Black powers.”

  In the span of two long breaths, Rhoane’s expression ranged from incredulity to confusion to denial to understanding, and finally acceptance. “Yes, yes, that makes sense. The trinity is too confining. You must not be limited.” He shook as he reached out to place his hand over hers, covering the glittering shards. Their runes illuminated and rose from their skin. The flared rays brightened the space. “Do not see this as a defect, mi carae, but as a part of your whole perfection.”

  His lips rested against hers and warmth traveled to the place inside where the chill lingered. A shadow at the corner of her eye flickered and winked out. She opened her mouth fully, taking in Rhoane’s heat, his power, his healing.

  ShantiMari swirled in shades of pink to crimson with suppressed passion. Taryn withdrew from the kiss with heady reluctance.

  “Are you ready to complete our bonding?”

  “Now? It cannot wait?”

  “It can, but trust me, you do not want it to.” Rhoane’s grin was answer enough. She transported them through the stars to Dal Tara, where Brandt and all of the gods and goddesses of Aelinae waited.

  Rhoane blinked several times before covering his eyes against the brilliance of the gods. Taryn turned to him, her Glamour a radiant kaleidoscope of color shimmering beneath her skin. “Now what do you see?” she teased, reminding him of the first time she saw Nadra in the cavern.

  “It is—overwhelming.”

  “You get used to it. Squint, it helps.”

  The gods wavered into recognizable forms and approached the couple. Brandt followed a step behind.

  “Ohlin wishes to bond us, if this is what you truly want. Once he places his bonds, they are absolute and forever. Nothing and no one can ever unravel them. Are you sure you choose this path?” Taryn asked, her voice wavering the tiniest bit.

  A little half-smile tugged at his lips. “I have wanted nothing else my entire life.”

  Ohlin stepped forward, chanting the ancient words of binding that would complete their union. He wrapped a multi-hued cord of power around their wrists, searing it into their skin. Taryn grimaced against the pain and stared in awe as Rhoane’s skin rippled from his elbow to his fingertips with tiny moss-colored dragon scales. Silver frills flared out from her arm and then sank back into her skin. Their runes shifted and reoriented themselves, leaving several more ghost tattoos embedded against their Glamour.

  When Rhoane lifted his hand away, a solid crystal dropped from their grip. Taryn bent to retrieve it, her attention momentarily captured by tiny buds sprouting from Rhoane’s fingertips. A second later, they were gone. In place of her own hand, a galaxy of stars swirled and winked out, leaving her once more flesh and bone.

  Brandt set the crystal into her palm and placed Rhoane’s hand over hers. “Guard this well.” He pressed against them until the crystal cut into her skin and she flinched. When he released their hands, the crystal had vanished.

  “Where did it go?” Taryn flipped her hand back and forth, looking for a new rune or anything to indicate its existence.

  Brandt tapped them on their chests. “In here. You created the dust from nothing and one day you’ll have need of it again. But for now, keep it safe.”

  Taryn groaned and rolled her eyes. “Not you, too? Riddles? I am so bloody sick of riddles!”

  Brandt chuckled and pulled her into a bear hug. “If I told you it was a planet you created, would you believe me?” he whispered and she jerked back to study his face. “I didn’t think so.” He gave a saucy wink and tug to her chin before stepping aside.

  Verdaine approached and placed a golden circlet upon Taryn’s brow. A distinguished darathi vorsi head studded with topaz eyes and a larger gemstone above, the jewels burned with a fire in their depths. Once the metal touched her skin, an awareness tickled the depths of her memory and she looked at Verdaine in surprise. The goddess gave a slight nod and a wink before stepping in front of Rhoane. On him, she set a golden circlet studded with several oblong jewels in various colors. The same curious fire burned in the depths of the gems on his circlet as well.

  “What—?” Taryn began, but Verdaine shushed her.

  “Listen to Nadra. Quiet your heart.”

  Ohlin and Nadra took their hands in theirs, saying in unison, “Taryn and Rhoane, you are no longer. Darennsai, daughter of the sky, and Surtentse, son of the terrarae, return to your people and lead them to peace.”

  One moment they were standing on Dal Tara and the next
they were back in the bower. Rhoane shook his head, flexing his marked hand. “Would you care to explain what that was all about?”

  “It is their form of entertainment. You get used to it after a while. We could discuss the capriciousness of the gods, or we could make our own entertainment,” Taryn said with a sly smile.

  “I thought you would never ask.”

  They spent the night in their bower, solidifying their bonds over and over again with only the stars for a blanket.

  AS HE brooded on the Obsidian Throne, King Zakael turned his gaze to the east. An all too familiar shudder of excitement ran through him when he thought of his true queen.

  Marissa reached too high, wanting more than his throne. Her desire to sit at the side of Rykoto was easily dealt with, but Kaldaar—that was a problem. The increasing interest she had shown in resurrecting the banished god became more than a nuisance.

  Zakael sneered at the head of the fallen Overlord, encased in crystal and resting atop a cushion to the right of his massive chair. Disbelief and enmity shone in the misty depths of his father’s eyes. The poor sod. He had no one to blame but himself. Neither he nor Marissa saw the potential right in front of them, instead looking to exiled and imprisoned gods for their immortality.

  At least Zakael had made certain Valterys would never rule Aelinae, and Taryn had helped. In the single moment when he’d impaled Valterys upon his sword, she’d met his gaze and he knew. Knew in the core of his being that she understood his need. Without a moment of hesitation on her part, she made certain Valterys could never prevent them from ruling together. An extasy-filled shudder rocked him. The way her blade had shorn their father’s head from his neck—it was a moment he would cherish for all time. And Taryn had given him this moment of peace.

  All those moonturns ago when he’d first met her in the cavern, he sensed she was special. Then, when he studied her at Gaarendahl, and more recently when she was bound in the forest and trying valiantly not to give in to his charms, he perceived in her the same blackness that drove him. Their desires were one.