Chapter one
Prologue - Orthia
Screamseruptfromthetemple. My sisters scatter across the busy streets of Moorcri to escape the advances of the king’s men. Since my brother has taken the throne, they don’t fear the wrath of the goddess as they should. Our vows to her are sacred, yet these men think to make light of such things.
I am not scared of them. As it is neither a holy day nor one for tribute, they have no right to enter our sacred place. Their presence has disrupted the prayers of my sisters, the ones who entreat the goddess to continue our blessings of prosperity. The cloaks they wear over their armour mean nothing to me, and I won’t remain silent under such an attack to our priestesses.
“Soldiers,” I shout, rushing through the temple to find three of them have cornered one of the women. “How dare—”
“Ah, Princess.” The captain of the guard swings around, the smile on his face as foul as a pig’s. “Just the maiden we are looking for.”
Before I began the rites to become a priestess for our goddess, the captain of the guard had attempted to court me. He was my father’s best soldier, my brother’s advisor in war, both statuses that should have allowed him marriage to me. But I could never be with a man, let alone one as foul as him.
“Unhand her before I have your heads,” I demand. “I should have your honours striped and your backs flogged for even stepping foot in here.”
“I see you have passed the second rites then.” He eyes my newly shaved head. “Pity. The King wishes to speak with you,” the captain sneers.
“Then leave this place,” I say, matching him look for look.
He stares me down for a moment, a hatred for me in his eyes. “Men, take your leave.”
I watch them exit the temple. There is no trusting these guards, not since my brother was crowned. I peer over to the priestess before I cross the boundary. She nods at me, and then I am off to the palace to speak with my brother.
The men surrounding my brother’s throne all stand and make way when they see me approach. My fury must be palpable. To have their guards distress the holy women who serve our kingdom is unspeakable. I won’t stand for such a thing.
“Ah, sister, there you are.”
The king’s smile is cruel when he finally graces me with his attention. My brother has always been ruthless about getting what he wants. I know the servants still whisper about how our eldest brother passed under such distressing circumstances. My eldest brother always respected the gods, respected our temple, and prayed to the goddess as he should.
Devotion is something our father demanded of us. For the goddess will always protect us. Before his death on the field of battle, he encouraged me to make my vows to the goddess, to join the temple, and to be her servant. I have promised myself, my maidenhood, and my soul to the goddess, and on the full moon I will place my offerings before her altar to complete the rites. Then, I will have only one mission in my life: to serve our goddess and spread her story.
“Your majesty.” I dip my head as his title demands of me. “Is there a reason you have sent your men into the temple without cause?”
“Your sharp tongue will not do you well,” he scowls. My brother steps off his dais, and there is a glint in his eye as he stares down at me. “Maybe I should simply remove it. I’m sure your new husband won’t care if you can speak. He’s given me quite a lot of warriors for your maidenhood.”
“You despicable-”
The clap rings out around the halls of the palace as he backhands me hard enough that I tumble to the floor. I move to cover my face and find blood on my lips. His precious rings have cut me. My body shakes with anger, unrepentant and violent. I stand up again, ready to fight the king, to kill my own brother if I must.
There isn’t time to strike or shout before ladies I have never met before rush to my side. I fight them, watching my brother as they drag me from the hall. Strangers scrub my body with foul-smelling oils and coarse brushes and ignore my struggle before dressing me in a long robe. They are staff of the man my brother has sentenced me to marry. They don’t know me or care about me. My body trembles with each yank of my arm, each forceful action these women bend me into until they are shoving me through the halls of my own palace.
My hands are bound in delicate ribbons, a beautified prisoner for a stranger. There is a ceremony performed by my brother, an act of disobedience to our goddess, the sole being capable of blessing such a marriage, and he has the audacity to smile. Next to him, the captain of the guard smirks, as if he knows something he shouldn’t. I refuse to say the words, and they move on without me. My choice in the matter means nothing to them.
I can’t look my new husband in the eye. I can’t bear the sight of him, or my brother. Those disgusting men have been conspiring since the ceremony ended, discussing plans to join our nations. We are two small islands in this great world. Not even our combined forces could stop the neighbouring northern islands from sending us all to Hades. This is not about peace or a united front against our enemies. My brother is a greedy king, hungry for all the power he can get his hands on. He is using me to get more.
“Princess,” my husband calls out, waving his goblet from the far side of the room where I am doing my best to pretend that today has never happened. “It’s time we take to our beds. Tomorrow will be a long journey for us.”
My blood, which had been thrumming from the copious amounts of wine I’ve consumed, turns to ice. The female servants around me rise to usher me to the room where we are to complete our marriage rites. The feasts have been conducted, and now it is time for this. Walking through the palace is a blur, yet I can’t think clearly enough to remind the women where my rooms are. They push me hard into the arms of a guard and I don’t understand what is happening. Before I can reprimand them or demand the guard unhand me, a cloth is tied around my mouth. Furious tears drip down my cheeks as I struggle.
The captain of the guard comes into view.
“His majesty said to throw her on his ship. If there is anything left of her in the morning, he’ll behead her himself.”
My body shivers uncontrollably in the chill of the early morning. I am numb to the pain, the feeling of hands grabbing, pushing, choking. There is no part of me that is left untouched. My screams and tears do not affect these monsters, nor do they move the gods to grant me the mercy of death.
The sun crests over the water and blinds me from my position tied to the railing of the ship. My wrists have stopped bleeding; the rope is crusted around my flesh now. Other fluids have caked across my body. The blood between my thighs is still damp. I stare off at the sea until a slap across my face steers my focus away from the despair I feel for my existence.
“Oh, looky here,” a sailor shouts. “Bitch is still alive. You looking for a second round, princess?”
