Chapter 4

Ifreaking love it when a plan comes together.

Water laps around where I float in the huge heated pool in the ceremonial wing of the palace complex. I sigh in contentment.

Everyone should be giddy on their wedding day, of course. Just happens to be that I’m giddy because I’m finally going to be able to do what I was meant to do. Protect Earth from the Roth completely. Use my influence to steer history.

I can’t stop smiling.

Fire gutters in the torches that line the stone columns, the shadows they cast otherworldly and slightly forbidding. I’m not superstitious, though, no matter Billie’s not-so-veiled warnings and Leigh’s own experiences with… a voice in her head.

I’m glad Leigh’s taking some time to herself, away from all the stress.

Sure, it put a wrinkle in my plan to control the throne through her and Nydo, but this certainly changes the stakes. Marrying Lyko, the King of the Roth, changes everything.

I’ve always loved a challenge.

I fan my fingers out, gliding to a more upright position in the water before swimming slowly to the side of the dark-watered pool. Unease slides through me, despite everything, despite the careful planning I’ve put into place over years.

What if Billie is right?

What if… this is a mistake?

“Nah,” I say out loud, and one of the gold-masked priests shifts slightly in the shadows.

Perverts. I roll my eyes, helping myself to the herb-scented hair soap, lathering it in and trying to enjoy myself. Only one other human’s ever seen these pools, and she gave it all up because she couldn’t handle the pressure of ruling.

I shine under pressure.

A self-satisfied smile curves my lips, and a laugh rings out from the shadows.

My nose wrinkles.

Creepy priests.

The freaky gold masks they’re wearing while they watch me swim around are bad enough, as is the fact that, apparently, Lyko and I have to consummate our marriage in front of them, but disembodied laughter is where I draw the line.

I prop my elbows up on the side of the pool, ignoring the rough chafe of the stone on my skin.

“If you’ve got something to say, say it,” I mutter to myself before dumping some of the stuff that passes for conditioner here into my hands and running it through my hair.

That’s all I get the chance to do before something wraps around my ankle and tugs me deeper into the still, black waters of the pool.

My initial shriek of terror cuts off quickly as I realize screaming is literally the stupidest thing I could do in an underwater situation, and I clamp my mouth shut, scrambling for whatever the hell has my ankle in a viselike grip.

My hands brush against something cold, something that makes my stomach flip in fear. Not even a half second later, the pressure around my ankle gives way to nothing but warm water.

I kick for the surface, my heart beating faster than it’s ever beat in my life, adrenaline a heavy cascade through my veins.

My head bursts into the air, and I suck in a breath, gasping for air. Steam curls off the water, waves from my sudden breach rippling through the otherwise glassy surface.

What the fuck was that?

“That, my new friend, was the mark of a goddess,”a voice says.

“Who said that?” I call out, frantically looking around. The masked priests are just barely visible, the firelight dancing across their weird masks.

“They can’t hear me. Only you can hear me.”

Oh my god.

“Goddess.”

“I’m losing my mind. This isn’t real.” The words stutter out of me, quiet and too loud all at once.

“It’s very real. I’m tired, though. It’s been too long since I manifested. I’ll be back.”

Please don’t come back, please don’t come back, I chant internally.

The voice is gone, though, leaving me alone with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.

Either Billie and Leigh were right, or there is some kind of powerful hallucinogen in these waters.

The thought has me swimming like there’s a shark on my tail, and I cut through the water at Olympic record speeds, hoisting myself out of the pool.

The stone floor is cold after the heat of the water, but I lie back on the ground, panting, staring up at the shadows hiding the ceiling. I shift, scooting farther from the water, and the priest nearest me lets out a strangled noise, his hand raising under his cloak.

I stare at him, at his outstretched finger.

He’s pointing at me.

“A god has marked her,” he mutters. “A god has marked her,” he repeats, yelling this time. A rustling sounds as the rest of the watchful priests move closer, their masked faces all fixed on me.

I swallow past the lump in my throat, forcing my gaze down my leg, down farther still, to my ankle.

A gold imprint’s there now, a glistening tattoo of linked circles. I squint at it, pulling my ankle into my lap to get a better look. A slight mistake, considering I’m not as flexible as I used to be.

That thought vanishes quickly as my eyes widen, taking in the so-called god’s mark.

It looks exactly like a chain made of barbed wire.

I have exactly two thoughts.

I’m an asshole for not believing Leigh when she said the marks on her face were some kind of alien magic.

I’m fucked.

“Are you ready to be anointed, chosen Queen?” a priest intones, stepping close with a tray full of whatever the hell I’m supposed to be anointed with.

I almost tell him to get fucked.

Instead, I take a deep breath, attempting to steady my extremely raw nerves. My hands shake slightly, and I tuck them against my chest.

Chosen Queen.

The gold chain around my ankle glimmers in the firelight, and for the first time in a very, very long time, I realize I may be out of my depth.

The priest sets his tray down, the glass bottles clattering against each other as he crouches next to me, inspecting the mark on my ankle.

“It would be an honor to anoint a chosen?—”

“I can anoint myself,” I interrupt, snarling at him, all the carefully practiced sweetness evaporating from my voice.

He stands again, his gold mask giving nothing away, the mouth of it permanently turned down in a sinister frown.

Fuck. I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit.

“Back off and don’t watch me,” I snap, angry with myself, at this situation, at the Roth who yet again have outplayed a stupid human. Memories of the invasion wash over me, and I shudder from the horror of it.

“You have already agreed to be watched,” the priest says calmly.

“Is this part of your barbaric sex tradition? No? Then close your goddamned eyes.” My sweet, innocent princess act is gone, and I can’t seem to muster up the energy to give one shit.

None of the priests move.

Fuckaroni and cheese. I’m going to have to change my approach. Think, Piper, think.

“Your goddess spoke to me,” I thunder. “You see yourselves she has chosen me.” I somehow manage to not stumble over the words. “You see the proof on my skin, and,” I pause, trying to think of some lie. “She told me to be vigilant. That the Roth respect power, and that I have to command it. So turn around or risk her wrath.”

The priests turn as one, and I flop back onto the floor in a panic. Cold soaks into my skin, and I eye the hot underground pool, very much wanting to be warm and very much never getting in that fucking mess again. Thank you so much, Roth asshats.

I can handle this.

I was trained to handle this.

I just have to… think fast.

I can think fast. I’m aces at thinking fast.

A tight breath pushes from my chest, and I force myself back up, uncorking the largest bottle. It’s full of some kind of shimmering gold oil, which is on-theme for these asshats. I’ll give them that.

“Anointing in progress,” I mutter. “Here goes nothing.”

I dump the contents all over my body, rubbing the metallic goop all over my skin.

“It’s giving the Midas Touch,” I say out loud, then rein in the spooked cackle that threatens at the back of my throat.

What the ever-loving fuck have I gotten myself into this time?

“Ceremonial robes,” one of the priests says, and I whip my head up. He’s half-turned, watching me lube myself up in gold shimmer paint, the pervert. He points to a set of clothes hanging on a hook.

“I said no looking,” I snarl. He turns back around.

Well, at least these asshats are listening now. Kind of.

Fuck!

I throw on the dress, out of sorts and even more out of control.

It’s time to get married.

And then to have sex in front of these jerks.

Fuck my life.