Prologue

PROLOGUE

ULTIMATE SACRIFICE

“ N eferti,” a distant voice called my name.

“Neferti,” it repeated, the sound echoing off what had become the caverns of my blank mind—not hearing, not seeing, not processing. All I knew were my baby’s green-brown eyes, staring up at me. Innocence would have been an incomplete description of what they held. Her eyes were a clean slate; full of potential, yet empty of any true course.

“Neferti,” the voice said again, and this time the rasping tenor of the words snagged my attention. I looked up to find myself not in the mahogany room alone with my newly born baby but surrounded by the Elders. A group of husked bodies—feminine, decayed, and all but forgotten. They looked more like reapers of death than the powerful enforcers of fate I knew them to be.

A sinking feeling crept past the exhaustion gripping my bones. “Why do you visit me?” I croaked, my voice still raw from the screams of labor. “I am no one to you.”

The group smiled at me, but their eyes drifted almost unwillingly to the tiny body, still wet with afterbirth, squirming in my arms.

The chamber was humid; perspiration from my heated pushing clung to the air. Yet a shiver kissed my skin as if the surrounding sea itself had risen to flood the room.

“No,” I shook my head, pulling her into my chest. “She’s nothing, she’s an innocent.”

“Do you know what day it is, child?” The voice that spoke sounded even more ancient than the decrepit vessel it came from. She stepped out from behind the group, which parted for her as she approached my bed, jet black hair floating behind her. Distinct milky gray eyes trained on me.

The Rexi Prima. The First Queen Who Was a King. The Bearer of Cold Hearts.

I shook my head, a final whimper of denial, but of course, I did know the day. The sinking feeling turned to stone in my gut.

The First Queen smiled sadly, her sea-forged eyes foreboding of the little island we called home. “The Full Moon of the Creatrix, my dear. You remember how you conceived, don’t you? You made a great sacrifice in Her honor. You prayed, asking for a drop of Her blood, in exchange for yours. Such a prayer I imagine you thought symbolic, but to a God in Her temple—well, it is not. You are holding a child of the Earth, dear. The One we have not seen in a thousand years.”

I squeezed my eyelids tightly, wishing the Elders would disappear, praying they were a hallucination brought on by the sharp pains of birth. But I knew her words, knew of the cursed legend that gave our land its prosperity. “It can’t be her,” I whispered, choking on my protest. “She is not the daughter of a queen.”

When I opened my eyes once more, they were gone, save for the Rexi Prima.

She shook her head, long black hair flowing in the still, thick air as tears streamed down her face. “You must name her as she is. You know what a name is to a child of the Mother. It will be a conduit and could very well mean her survival.” She remained silent for one endless moment, like she feared being overheard. Her dry lips parted, and she mouthed the words, “I’m sorry,” over and over again, her image slowly fading. And she was gone. I could not tell if she had apologized to me, or to the blinking, sleepy eyes that rested in my arms.

My daughter squirmed again, making a gentle sound—a squeak that would melt even the coldest of hearts. But a chilling intensity speared into the softness her noises inspired. “Don’t worry,” I whispered, brushing my lips to her head. “I will do what it takes to keep you safe.”