Chapter 33

Iscan the crowd, relishing their palpable excitement.

Feedingoff it.

Every inch of the tiered seating is crammed with wide-eyed men, women, and children jostling, laughing, the smell of their eagerness and greed a potent reminder that there hasn’t been a public trial for years. Not since my Low Masters and Mistresses became hooked on Candescence.

People stopped dying; stopped bringing new flesh into my well-stacked monarchy.

I like it this way. When your lifespan is never-ending, you swiftly learn the great quality of surrounding yourself with people you trust.

Or control.

I lean back in my chair, arms folded, knee bouncing in anticipation. Feeling like one of the kids who keep jiggling in their seat, asking when it’s going to start. My personal viewing platform is tucked within the rows of seating high above The Bowl, offering a clear view of the entire amphitheater.

The best view.

A subtle knock on my door has my head snapping to the side. “Yes?”

It creaks open, and my guard speaks through the gap. “The High Septum, Master.”

“Let her in,” I say, shoving to my feet.

The door swings wide, and Heira limps through, dressed in her ornamental robe—similar to her usual but with a shimmery overlay—the door shutting behind her.

“Finally.” I take her hand and tuck it in the crook of my arm, escorting her to her solid gold cathedra right beside mine. “I was beginning to think I would have to make the announcement without you.”

She smiles up at me, but it lacks its familiar twinkle. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. The tempest is quiet today, is she not?” Heira muses through a wince as she lowers to her seat, and I think of the surging pound that usually drums against the bluff this cavern is dug beneath. “Seems the Gods are listening.”

“Hopefully that’s a good sign,” I murmur, pulling back her hood to reveal a long, perfectly woven plait.

Disappointment drops into my gut like a rock.

Frowning, I ease it back over the seat and let it flop. “You already braided it …”

“I knew we were going to be short on time,” she says, reaching over her shoulder to give my hand a placating pat. “But I’d love some refreshments.”

“Of course,” I say, clearing my throat. “I have all your favorites.”

Nipping a glance at the big stone doors Orlaith will soon emerge through, I move to the table at Heira’s back stacked with food and begin setting some strawberries in a bowl, then some grapes and cubes of cheese. “Is everything okay?” I ask. “You seem … tense.”

“I am particularly troubled, I admit. Yesterday morning there was a situation at the temple. It’s what I wanted to speak with you about before your promised came down the stairs and stole your attention.”

Fuck.

I pause, looking at her over my shoulder. “Apologies, Heira. I intended on coming across the river last night, but I had a meeting with a Regional Master that ran late.”

I don’t tell her the reason it ran late was because it started late. Because I got distracted feasting on my pretty flower. I get the sense that it won’t go down well, given their frosty encounter yesterday.

“That’s why there’s been more Gray Guards on this side of the river?” I query.

“Correct.”

“Nothing too serious, I hope?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Very.”

I frown.

Setting the bowl on the small table beside her, I notice the tightness around her eyes as I drape myself in my cathedra and gesture for her to continue.

She picks a strawberry off the pile and rips off the greenery. “An ungodly rat infiltrated our ranks and set fire to a month’s supply of Candescence,” she seethes, and my eyes widen.

“How did that happen?”

“I’m uncertain, but we’re hunting the culprit.” She bites into the strawberry with a brutal sort of savagery I can appreciate, swallowing her mouthful. “They also set fire to a room full of worshipers. Only one survived. She’s badly injured, suffering from burns and smoke inhalation, but I trust we will receive a full description of the vile, scuttling rat once she’s able to do so.”

No wonder Heira looks so fucking riled.

“I’m sorry. I know how much this will impact your duties to the Gods.” I reach for her hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Pray the Gods have a plan that will work in our favor,” she says, giving me a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “This is a painful setback, not only for us but for everyone.” She scans the crowd like she’s scouring each face. “I refuse to let anything get in my way of finding Shadow’s Hand—least of all this strike of ungodly malice.”

I nod my agreement as she rips the green off another strawberry and bites into its flushed flesh.

The drums begin to pound—deep, thudding booms that make the air feel like it’s beating against my skin. My heart flips, attention whipping to the doors at the top of the stairs, watching them creak open.

A silence blankets the crowd.

A string of robed worshipers file down the steps, hoods pulled low over their faces. They pour around The Bowl, forming a complete circle, hands clasped together so the draped scoops of their sleeves connect.

The drums take on a different, more frantic tempo that stirs the rate of my heart, and two Elders step onto the stairway in synchronized harmony, garbed in their ceremonial robes akin to the High Septum’s.

Orlaith emerges behind them dressed in a spill of plain gray fabric, stealing my breath. Her hood is draped around her shoulders, hair braided to look like a golden crown sitting upon her head. The crowd erupts with a deafening roar of elation that spurs all the way to my hardening cock.

Clearing my throat, I shift in my seat, watching her descend the stairs in that liquid way she moves—like her feet barely touch the ground. Reaching the bottom, she’s led between two of the tall, glass aquariums dotted around The Bowl, coming to a halt.

Her flat eyes are cast ahead as the Elders ease the cloak off her shoulders.

Fuck.

A gray bodysuit clings to every dip and curve of her lithe, ethereal body like a second skin, covering her arms, her legs, her neck—concealing the pretty flesh I love so much. Bringing my greedy nature a spike of satisfaction.

Her cupla is on bold display, so bright against the gray.

Mine.

All mine.

“She is a very beautiful woman, Cainon.”

I glance sidelong at Heira, who’s watching Orlaith with a baited sort of intrigue. “She is, yes.”

“For someone who spent most of her life too afraid to leave the grounds of Castle Noir, I did not expect to encounter such a fiery presence.” She peels her gaze away and looks at me from beneath her hood. “I thought the girl to be a mute, skittish thing.”

My mind tumbles back to last night. To the way Orlaith’s body opened for me like a blooming flower when I latched onto the side of her neck and drank her silky warmth. To the deep, guttural moan she released that almost had me ripping into her in other ways.

I twirl my cupla around my wrist. “Anything but,” I rumble, eating up Orlaith’s curves with my ravenous stare.

Anything but.

“She is not going to steal you from me, is she?”

Heira’s strained voice knocks me off guard, snatching my stare. I lift her hand and brush my lips across her knuckles. “Never,” I growl, a promise and a plea. An answer I thought she surely knew.

Relief floods her eyes, and she gives me that soft, nourishing smile I love so much, then turns her attention forward again. Together, we watch other Shulák splash Orlaith with sacred water scooped from the bowl of Mount Ether, preparing her for the trial while they chant to the rhythm of the thudding drums.

Orlaith doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch, and for the first time, I notice the dark circles beneath her eyes. Her pasty complexion.

I frown.

Her body is obviously struggling to keep up with my … rabid demands. I must try to stop sooner next time, but it’s just so fucking hard to control myself with her when she gives herself to me so beautifully.

So willingly.

“Arrangements have been made,” Heira says, interrupting my inner musings.

“For?”

“Should Orlaith fail the trial today, there will be no burning, but a whipping instead. In the city square. Thirty lashes. Enough that she will look as though she’s beyond repair, though I’m certain you will still find use for her.”

Relief floods my veins as I squeeze Heira’s hand. “I appreciate your discretion.”

“But should she fail, I have contingents of Gray Guards camped out near the western border between Bahari and Ocruth, and I’ve ordered the bulk of our militia farther inland—closer to the Norse. We’re more than prepared to help you take the Ocruth seat of power by force.”

Jaw hardening, I give her a tense nod, watching one of the Elders draw the gray silt from the shores of Mount Ether down Orlaith’s forehead, nose, lips, and chin. The drums quicken their thudding, pounding like the beat of a panicked heart. “I’m certain that won’t be necessary. I have full faith that Orlaith will climb out of The Bowl and this transition will be smooth.”

“Let us see. As always, I put my trust in the Gods.”

There’s a pitch to Heira’s tone that makes me frown, and then she’s standing, reaching for the amplifier on the table beside her. She brings it to her lips, and her stern voice rips across the quieting crowd like an avalanche.

“Men, women, children of this magnanimous territory, we have gathered here this morning before the full moon’s rise to witness our first Ether Trial in over a hundred years!”

Heira raises both arms skyward.

Everybody cheers—the energy infectious.

“Today, the Gods will judge this woman standing before you all in the color of Ether. They will deem her worthiness to sit beside this great man,” she looks down at me with that wholesome smile, sparking a fire in my swelling chest that burns like a thousand embers, “to cradle his offspring in her womb, and to support him in his selfless endeavors to protect our territory against that which could strike us down!”

There’s another eruption of applause, like fists bashing my ribs, and a lopsided smile breaks across my face.

“The tempest is silent …” Her words—softer now—carry like a verbal shiver I can feel all the way to my bones. “The Gods are listening, weighing this woman’s thoughts and fears. Her faults. Today, before every person in this amphitheater, they will pass their judgment.”

The crowd chants in unison, stomping their feet at a ferocious pace, filling the space with the sound of thunder.

“Judgment!”

“Judgment!”

“Judgment!”

“During our preparations,” Heira says, sedating the crowd, “Orlaith was asked which creature she was drawn to. As is tradition, that very creature will now be released into The Bowl.”

Finally.

Father used to say this important decision told truths about someone’s character.

Anticipation makes my heart race as the drums begin to pound—hard and fast—and my gaze bounces around the tanks while I wait to see which one will drain.

Which creature was she drawn to? I want to know everything about my petal—her strengths, her weaknesses. What makes that tangled mind tick.

The tank containing the electric eels begins to bubble, and dread drops into my stomach like a bag of ice as the creatures disappear through the plinth, then squirm up from the depths of The Bowl.

Fuck.

My gaze slashes to Orlaith’s widening eyes, then to Heira lifting the amplifier to her mouth again. “Let the trial begin!”

The crowd erupts, chanting, punching their fists toward that hole in the ceiling.

I feel myself fall off that excited cliff, plummeting fast. “She chose the eels?” I whisper-hiss, sweaty and fractious, my control fraying by the millisecond.

“I, too, found it interesting. They’re such slippery, silent killers,” Heira says, setting the amplifier back upon the table, hissing a pained sound as she settles beside me. “Did you know, contrary to their name, they are not closely related to other eels but a form of carp? And they actually breathe air. Their very visage is a lie.” She plucks another strawberry, not even bothering to rip off the green before she bites into the ruddy flesh.

This is a fucking disaster.

“No one has ever chosen the eels or the piranha,” I grind out between clenched teeth, trying to keep my lips from moving too much. “Why the fuck would they?”

Heira shrugs, swallowing her mouthful. “Perhaps she feels like she has something to prove?”

I frown, looking at Orlaith—wide-eyed at the edge of The Bowl. All the color has returned to her cheeks, making her look flushed.

“Or perhaps she wasn’t aware the choice had such an important role to play?”

Heira cuts me a harsh glare. “Failing to prepare is preparing to fail. A Bahari High Mistress should have foresight in spades.” She takes my hand in hers, and I bite into venomous words as her thumb circles around my knuckle.

I look down at our intertwined fingers, back up into her softening eyes.

“She is in the Gods’ hands now, my boy. If it’s meant to be, she will climb out of that bowl, gain respect from your people, and rule by your side with great honor.Trust the process.”

Her words hammer me into place, making me look at the situation from a different angle. One not governed by my fucking heart.

She’s right …

She always is.

I swallow, giving her a tight nod before lifting her hand and planting a kiss upon her knuckles, then returning my focus to The Bowl.

The Elders edge back.

Orlaith takes two stiff steps toward The Bowl, nostrils flared, chest pumping swift breaths, a glint of fire and fortitude in those orchid eyes.

The crowd murmurs, a restless energy swirling, and I release Heira’s hand,planting my elbows on my knees so I can give my pretty flower my undivided attention.

Orlaith’s stare drops to the stone plinth the empty eel tank is seated on, then moves clockwise. She traces the metal arch spanning The Bowl, her gaze fixing on the rope tied to the highest point—perfectly central—suspending the golden bell atop the body of water.

She looks back at the empty tank before a steely smile touches her lips.

I frown, fisting my hands together, gaze cutting to Heira. Her expression is pensive as she watches the scene with rapt regard.

Orlaith stomps around The Bowl—more endearing than it should be—then stops beside the empty tank, looking past it to cut Heira a glare that sends shivers up my spine.

What is she doing?

My frown deepens, and time seems to stretch.

Orlaith flicks a fleeting glance at me, then whips her body around, propels her foot forward, and slams her heel into the tank.

A collective gasp animates the crowd as it topples …

Then shatters all over the floor.