by Marian Gray
I sighed. There was nothing they could say to change my mind. We were just sitting out here in the middle of the woods wasting time at this point. “Make sure you all get some rest tonight. We leave in the morning.”
My boots trudged through the tall grass. The green color was just coming back into the strands after suffering through a brown winter. The dew on the ends of the blades covered my legs all the way up to my knees. And with every step, I could feel the water squishing out from beneath my heel. It reminded me of trekking through the marshlands around Askaden.
“Iver,” Irska whispered to me. “I know you’ve told me you don’t want to talk about it anymore, but I’m begging you.”
I sighed. She had been chewing on my ear for nearly every second we were awake since Albin had returned to our camp.
“Irska, I respect your opinion but I’ve made my decision.”
Albin walked about fifteen paces ahead of us. He glanced over his shoulder, hearing our mutterings no doubt. Behind him strode Sigmun, Ansel, Dagur, and Lars. It was best to keep a few swords between Albin and myself should things turn sour.
“Iver, ignore her.” Brungen shouldered Irska out of the way. “I’m telling you. It’s a trap.”
“It may be, but I don’t think it is.”
“How can you both be so blind?” Brungen asked through gritted teeth. “Surely you see how stupid of an idea this is to just run into an unknown cave.”
Irska cocked an eyebrow, drawing near us. “So, you really don’t believe there’s a troll? You aren’t just saying this because you’re afraid?”
He shook his head. “No, I really don’t believe there’s a troll. This is a trap. How many times do we have to go over it?”
“But it makes perfect sense—the troll, that is,” Irska said.
“It even explains why Oskar struggles to control his abilities,” I told him. “They’re not really his. Did either one of you look at his face while he was putting on his magic show?”
Irska glanced down at her feet, avoiding the question. It was obvious that she hadn’t, and maybe she was a little embarrassed by that.
“Maybe there is.” Brungen shrugged. “Maybe there really is a troll, but the fact still stands. I don’t think there is, and even if this troll exists, how do we know Albin’s not in on it? Or that it’s not a huge ploy between Oskar, Albin, Heimer, and the Sama tribes?”
“That would be a plot so large that it would fly over all parties’ heads,” I said. They didn’t have the leadership to coordinate such a thing.
“But you heard it yourself.” Brungen wasn’t going to let this go. “Oskar knew for months that you were coming to Torvik. That is plenty of time for him to cook something up.”
“He’s right,” Ansel said, speaking over his shoulder. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re afraid,” Cirithe spat. “Grow a backbone, boy.”
“Iver, please see reason,” Irska begged. “If you can’t be sure that Albin’s being honest and that there is a troll at the end of this trail, you shouldn’t be leading us into this.”
But I was sure. “Othun came to me late last night as I rested on my knees praying. I saw his face when I closed my eyes, and I could hear his voice when I opened my ears. And I heard his words clearly. There was a troll that had escaped its hold and needed to be punished for it. He wanted me to go and cast Heimer out of the lifecycle.”
“Well, isn’t that convenient,” Brungen scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“I have listened to you, and now I want you to listen to me,” I began. “My godly father wouldn’t lead us astray, and he walks with us now.”
Irska sighed. “I understand the temple anointed you. I was there. But even if it’s him that you’re hearing, we know the gods can be tricky.”
“That may be so, but Othun wouldn’t see me dead.”
Irska wasn’t going to shake my trust in the gods. They played tricks on the ones they disliked. They punished those that crossed them. It was bold, and perhaps foolish of me to believe it, but I was favored. The priest at the temple even told me so. The gods didn’t let those they loved die. No matter what happened, I would see my cycle in old age.
This I knew for certain.
XXXIII
Your Blessedness
The king rode out from the tiered city the following day. He went with three of his commanders and a caravan of servants. No details were given for the reason of their excursion, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out.
In his absence, my life became a dichotomy of free and imprisoned. No doors were locked to me, no rooms off-limits, but I wasn’t permitted to exit the pale stone walls. I was trapped in the castle. And all of the court knew it.
They whispered about me behind covered mouths, and some would even cross to the other side of the hall should I pass. Even the servants were apprehensive about approaching me. The trays shook in their hands when they collected my dinnerware. Had they forgot I was once one of them? I was a pariah, an outcast, and no one tried to make me feel otherwise.
“Are you ready?” Astra’s voice sounded behind me. “What are you doing?”
I stood beside one of the castle’s opulent window mosaics, peering down into the city. I watched them like an eye in the sky as they went about their days.
“Nothing.” I lifted my head. “Ready for what?”
“They didn’t tell you?”
“About what?” No one spoke to me here. They were all afraid.
She sighed. Annoyance was heavy in her breath. “You have a fitting, and the patriarch wants to go over the procession and behavioral expectations now that you’re a face for the Mont.”
A sick feeling blossomed in the pit of my stomach at the sound of his name. “I’d rather stay in the castle.”
“You don’t have a choice. The king and patriarch are presenting you to the people within the next few days, and the king wanted these preparations completed before he returned home. He gets back late this evening. Let’s go.” Her speech ended on a stern note.
I pulled myself away from the window sill. “Does the patriarch have to be present for this? Can we do it without him?”
She tilted her head, curious. “Yes, he does have to be present. Why wouldn’t you want him there?”
My mind blinked with images of the white stone ceiling looming above me and his hands kneading their way down my body. I ignored her question, not wanting to relive the patriarch’s abuse. “You’ll have to escort me. The guards won’t let me out the doors.”
“I know.” She opened the study door for me. “I was with the king and steward when the rule was put into place.”
“And you didn’t think to possibly dissuade them?”
“No,” she said as we began our descent along a long line of stairs. “I was the one that suggested it.”
“Why?” She wasn’t my friend and she didn’t owe me anything, but I felt an ounce betrayal.
“Because when the king’s away, the rats will play,” she whispered. “The patriarch has an unusual interest in you, and we needed a way to passively convey that you no longer are a servant of the Mont—you belong to the Keep.”
“You think the patriarch would have sent for me?”
“He already has. Multiple times.”
The words sent a chill down my spine. “Why? What did he want?”
She glanced at me from the corner of her eyes. “I think you already know.”
So, Astra had known that the patriarch was conducting sessions with me. If she knew about me, then she had to have known about the other girls as well. Was this the reason she advocated for the king to take me and make me his battle weapon? If so, why me? And why was she only choosing to act now? Astra had grown up in this court. She had to have known about the patriarch’s abuse for a long time now. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because.” Her breath stifled. “In some morbid, dark way, you’re helping me.” She led me down into the dungeon.
We were taking the tunnels over.
I shook my head. “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m not doing anything for you.” In fact, I was just biding my time, waiting for the king to return so I could finish what I had been sent down here to do.
She halted. It caught me off guard, and I almost ran into her. “I’m not stupid. Yes, the patriarch put you in the Mont. But I was the one who persuaded them to make you a sister. I did my best to keep you off of the patriarch’s list. I took you hunting that day on purpose—the patriarch wanted you for another session. I pushed to get you in the castle. And then I protected you while the king was away. It wasn’t all for naught.”
So, Astra was the driving force behind my ascension. She and Menaries conspired separately, putting me into a position for their own personal gain. But that’s what this speech was missing: a confession of what she hoped to win with me at the king’s side. Menaries wanted knowledge and influence. But what was Astra after?
My mouth dried as the words formed in my throat. “How does it benefit you to have me beside the king?”
Astra’s eyes met mine. Their cool crystal gaze sank into me, observing. Her tongue moved inside her mouth as though she were preparing to form words. The muscles along her jaw flexed. She swallowed hard. “We need to continue. Patriarch Menaries is awaiting our arrival.” She turned, and her boots hit the cold stone.
I followed behind in silence. But my mind could not stop replaying her words, trying to piece it all together. It didn’t matter which way I arranged the pieces in my mind, the puzzle never fit together. Astra wasn’t as boastful or arrogant with her position as the patriarch was. She kept her lips sealed. Other than a very brief history, I knew nothing about the woman. I could assume things based on what I saw, but they were only just that—assumptions.
When we climbed out of the dungeon tunnels and into the Mont, my blood chilled. I had hoped to never see these walls again or smell the floral aroma that seemed to soak into everything and everyone that entered the building.
Patriarch Menaries stood behind his desk, staring out the tall, looming windows. His hands were folded behind his back, and he was dressed in simple white robes. “Astra,” he began without turning around to face us. “You know I hate to be kept waiting.”
“Yes, Your Blessedness. I am sorry for the delay,” she said as she pulled me deeper into the room, standing me beside Auntie Mara. “She wasn’t in the king’s apartments, so it took me some time to locate her.”
“Then you should’ve begun your search sooner.” He turned around, whipping his robes in the process. There were flames in his eyes.
“Yes, Your Blessedness.” She bowed her head. “I shall remember that for the next time.”
His breath stifled as he breathed in. “Very well.” His attention dashed to me. “Strip her. Let’s get this over with quickly. I don’t have the patience for this sort of thing today.”
“Yes, Your Blessedness,” Auntie Mara and Astra answered in unison as they swarmed me, unlacing ties and peeling linen layers from my body.
“Please, record this meeting, Brother Roneos. I am sure the king’s steward will want a copy,” Patriarch Menaries said as he strode toward me.
His errand boy sat in the corner at what looked to be a student’s desk. “Yes, Your Blessedness.”
The patriarch rounded in front of me and sat on the cushioned bench, watching as my body was laid exposed to him, second by second. “It is important for you to realize that this announcement and procession through the city is not about you. It’s not about me either, nor is it about the Mont. It’s about the king demonstrating to his people the power that the crown now holds. You must keep that in mind through the event. Failure to do so will not be forgiven.
“Secondly, don’t forget your place. You are a woman. Nothing more. At the Mont, we allow you all a few more freedoms than the average female citizen, such as an education, ownership of possessions, and leadership roles. Remember that those are contained within these walls. In those streets, you are the king’s vassal. Do not assume you are in any position of authority now or that you have any power other than what the king gives you.
“Lastly, I don’t want you to speak a word. Your face will be veiled, your body covered from head to toe, and you will be led by one of the fathers. You shall don a sky-blue and gold dress with our Lord the Sun’s emblem embroidered on your chest. Is all of that clear?” His brow lifted.
“Yes, Your Blessedness,” I said, but there was more that I wanted to say. I had expected his first two points of conversation, but the third had me dumbfounded. Why did they intend to both veil me and cover me in a long dress?
“Good.” He leaned back and massaged his forehead.
Auntie Mara and Astra fitted a simple dress over me. It was white, a blank canvas. Mara pinned it in places, and marked some of the fabric with black coal, taking notes. On the hem, she inscribed my name, age, and the date.
A small, resolute smirk graced the patriarch’s lips. “How have you been feeling lately, Sister Derethe?”
Astra shot me a glance. It was a warning. “I’ve been well—happy and smiling every day,” I answered.
“Excellent. I’m glad our sessions have been productive.” He glanced over his shoulder at his steward who sat in the back, scribbling madly across a scroll. “Brother Roneos, will you fetch my next appointment?”
Roneos froze. “Umm… next appointment?”
“Yes, I have a session with one of our new sisters. What’s her name?” Menaries asked, pretending as though this soiree was legitimate. But everyone in the room knew he was simply in the mood to toy with a girl and scar her for life.
“Uhh…” Brother Roneos rose from his desk with such a start that he knocked his chair over. “I’ll go fetch her, Your Blessedness,” he said as he stood the small wooden seat back on its legs.
The man was out of the room in seconds, and Patriarch Menaries leaned back and shut his eyes. He had such a serene and peaceful expression on his face while he waited for his next victim. The sight boiled my blood.
How long was the old man going to be allowed to molest young girls? I saw the fresh batch of arrivals on our way here. Some of them didn’t look older than thirteen.
And here the three of us stood, silent. Astra had admitted to knowing about these fake sessions. It was a dirty secret whispered in the Mont that every woman who had ears had heard. I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t allow him to harm another innocent. Me and my body were one thing. I was already broken and beaten, but some of the girls in here were still so naive and hopeful. It wasn’t right to allow him to snuff out that light for his own physical pleasure.
“These sessions need to end,” I said. My voice scratched against my throat.
The patriarch’s eyes whipped open. “Excuse me?”
I licked my lips, prepared to withstand whatever punishment was going to come my way. No, I didn’t have my powers in this horrid land, but I still had my fists and wit. “These sessions need to end, Your Blessedness.” Astra’s grip tightened around my arm.
“Sister Mara and Astra, leave us,” Menaries said.
Auntie Mara dropped her pins without question, but Astra stood her ground. “No. I am of the king’s men, and the king himself has placed her within my care. I am her keeper. I am not yours to command, nor is she yours to do with as you please.”
Patriarch Menaries rose from his seat. His teeth clenched. “I will not be talked to in this manner by two women.” He raised a pointed finger to my face. “And you, you ungrateful bitch. Don’t think I can’t throw you back into the kennels where I found you.”
I wasn’t going to allow him to derail my protest. “End these sessions, you sick bastard.”
“Or what?” He cocked an eyebrow. “What are you going to do? Run and tell the king?” A chuckle roared from his belly.
He believed he was untouchable, but one day I’d bring him to his knees. “I am small now, but someday soon, I won’t be. And when that t
imes comes, my wrath will not be forgiving.”
He rolled his eyes at me. “Get this black harlot out of my sight.”
XXXIV
The Mountain’s Grasp
The night was dark out here. So dark, I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face at times. The forest canopy blocked the majority of the moonlight, allowing only patches of the earth to appear in a silvery veil.
We had been trekking through the wild terrain for a full day, stopping only to eat and rest our weary feet as the sun’s oil burned away. I hadn’t anticipated how far we would have to travel in order to confront whatever was in this cave. My warriors were tired and worn down and we hadn’t even engaged anyone or anything yet.
“Are we close yet?” Ansel asked.
“Nearly there,” Albin answered. “We walk along this path, following the creek, for a few minutes more. Then, the land will slope down and feed right into his cave.”
“Are you going in with us?” Irska gave him severe look.
“Absolutely not,” Albin answered, peppered with the hint of a laugh. “Heimer will surely kill me as soon as he sees me. I’m not welcome. Oskar has poisoned his ear and told him lies about me.”
Irska shot me a glance over her shoulder. “You seem to have built quite the relationship with this troll, Heimer.”
“It’s more of a rapport,” Albin corrected.
“Regardless, it’s unsavory. It’s exactly the type of thing the gods would punish someone for.” She was speaking to him but still looking at me.
And she wasn’t wrong. It was strictly forbidden to meddle with these monsters. Since we were the servants of the gods, the trolls were our enemies. Unlike most things in life, there was no gray here. It was a very simple black and white. What Albin had done would surely garner the wrath of the gods.
“I’ve already paid for my actions,” he said, stretching out his arms. “Look at me. I’m disgusting, poor, and constantly starving.”