Every time I looked at the eleven gods painted across the ceiling of the Great Hall, I had questions.
Starting with who in the fuck was the pale, white-haired God of Rites and Prosperity? The Ascended called him Perus, but he’d never existed. I supposed they had to make up a god for their Rites.
My gaze swept over the ceiling as city folk entered the long, white chamber of marble and gold, carefully navigating the silver urns full of white and purple jasmine flowers. Whoever had painted this had talent,
capturing the somber expressions of Ione, Rhahar, and then Rhain, the God of Common Men and Endings often depicted in Atlantia. The red hair of
Aios, the Goddess of Love, Fertility, and Beauty, was as vibrant as fire, not having faded in the years since the ceiling was painted. Penellaphe, the
Goddess of Wisdom, Loyalty, and Duty, appeared peaceful and serene, while Bele, the Goddess of the Hunt, looked as I imagined she would if
awake: like she was about to whack someone across the head with her bow. Even the different shades of skin, from the rich-brown-hued Theon, the God of Accord and War, and his twin, Lailah, the Goddess of Peace and Vengeance, to the deeper, cooler black skin of Saion, the God of Sky and Soil, were rendered with exquisite detail. It made me think the artist had been an Atlantian, or at least one who’d descended from Atlantia.
But Nyktos, the King of Gods, was painted as he was throughout the entirety of Solis, his face and form showing only as silvery moonlight. Why they hid him was beyond me, as was the fact the Ascended appeared to
have erased every mention of his Consort. Her name and visage weren’t even known to us, but we knew of her existence. Legend said it had to do with Nyktos being overly protective of his Queen, but for the Ascended to completely cut her out always struck me as a purposeful act. An odd one, just as the decision to hide Nyktos’s appearance was. There had to be a
reason. Alastir had once said it was because, deep down, the Ascended feared the wrath of the King of Gods and couldn’t bring themselves to look upon him. And maybe that was true, but it didn’t explain removing all record of his Consort, to the point where most within Solis had no
knowledge of her.
My gaze lowered, skipping over the white banners bearing the golden Royal Crest that hung from the ceiling to the floor, between the numerous windows that lined the entirety of the Hall. Old anger festered. White and gold were the colors of Atlantia’s sigil. Modeling theirs after ours was also purposeful.
Eyes narrowing, I looked at the raised dais as the hum of conversation filled the chamber. From where I stood in the alcove, I had an unobstructed view. Several Royal Guards already flanked the two chairs the Duke and
Duchess would soon sit upon. I leaned against a marble pillar, wondering what this session would bring. Usually, it was nothing more than a show of the wealthy kissing the Ascended’s asses. As a Rise Guard, I didn’t have to attend these events, but I did because the Maiden attended. It was the same reason so many of those crowding the main floor came each week yet never spoke.
They were here for her, too.
Likely because they believed she was even closer to the gods than the Ascended. I wondered what she thought of that. Did she believe it? That the gods had Chosen her? A handful of days ago, I would’ve assumed she did. I had assumed many things—
The crowd quieted.
The Duke and Duchess entered to a wave of applause that was notably halfhearted. Interesting. My attention remained on the side door as the Ascended took their seats.
Vikter came out first, his hand on the hilt of his sword, alertness etched into every line of his weathered face.
Then the crowd went completely silent and still as the Maiden appeared. There wasn’t a single sound, not even a cough, as she walked to stand to the left of the chairs. The silence was one of… I quickly scanned the faces I could see. All stared up at the dais, focused on her, even the members of the Court—the Ascended and the Lords and Ladies in Wait that stood at the front. I recognized the Lady in Wait often seen with the Maiden, the one with the warm brown skin and curly hair. She looked half-asleep. The
mortals, though, they smiled. Some looked close to joyous tears. Others just stared in open-mouthed awe. The smiles were ones of reverence.
Gods.
The Duke spoke, starting as he always did by reading a letter sent from the capital. I doubted King Jalara or Queen Ileana had written it. They were too busy being absolute menaces.
The Maiden was as still as she had been the morning before while Keal was laid to rest. Spine straight, looking straight ahead, and hands clasped at her waist. That changed once one of the Duke’s stewards announced those in attendance and summoned them to step forward to speak. It started with her shifting her hands, moving her left atop the right and then back to the right atop the left. My brows knitted as I watched her. While people began the weekly tradition of ass-kissing, she shifted from foot to foot while
standing in place. She fidgeted during these sessions at times, but usually at the very beginning, and then she always seemed to calm. Was she
uncomfortable? Anxious? Or was it the lingering effects of what had happened to Keal? Clearly, she’d liked the man enough to honor him by attending his funeral.
Vikter leaned in behind her, whispering something. The Maiden nodded, then stilled. I glanced out at the crowd, seeing that many weren’t paying attention to what the people said to the Duke and Duchess. Instead, they
were as focused on her as I was. Was that her source of discomfort? But why would it be more of a bother to her today than any time before? My
gaze inched its way to the ceiling and her namesake. Penellaphe. I knew no one else named after the gods. No one in Atlantia would even dare to do so. Her parents had, and I was sure her naming was one more purposeful act initiated by the Blood Crown—
“Are you fucking the Duchess?” Lieutenant Smyth’s low, nasally voice came from behind me.
I smiled at his question, keeping my stare on the dais. On the Maiden. “Not that I’m aware of.”
There was a beat of silence, and I knew my refusal to turn to him had the Lieutenant bursting with quiet rage.
Smyth moved to stand at my side. “Then how in the hell were you nominated to replace Keal?”
“You’ll have to ask the Commander that,” I replied.
“I did,” he snapped. “All he would say was that you were the best qualified.”
“Well, there you go. You have your answer.”
“That’s a bunch of bullshit. You’ve only been here a few months. There are plenty who are more qualified.”
I looked at him then. “Like you?”
His ruddy cheeks deepened in color. He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. I smiled, returning my attention to the dais. To her. The Maiden was beginning to fidget again.
Smyth leaned in close enough that his shoulder touched mine. I wanted nothing more than to turn and snap his neck. It wasn’t morality that stopped me, even though that should’ve been why. Killing people because they were annoying likely wasn’t considered a good enough reason. He lived only
because murdering him in front of hundreds of people would cause a bit of unnecessary drama.
“Something about this isn’t right,” Smyth hissed. “And I will get to the bottom of it.”
“Good luck with that,” I murmured.
He cursed under his breath and turned from me, sulking as he moved along the edge of the alcove. I watched him, thinking there was a good
chance he would have to die.
Oh, well.
I returned my attention to the Maiden. Some man spoke of how great the Duke’s and Duchess’s leadership was.
She turned her head slightly toward where I stood, and though I couldn’t see her eyes, I knew our gazes locked. The nape of my neck tingled as the strangest damn feeling hit me. I could feel her stare peeling away the layers of who I was. Muscles tensed throughout my body. Several moments passed, and then her head tilted away. As a couple approached the dais, the inexplicable and undeniably silly sensation was slow to pass. I looked at the mortals. I believed the steward had introduced them as the Tulises.
I continued studying the Maiden as the couple spoke. She’d found me in the crowd, and that was intriguing.
Because I had lied to Duke Teerman about many things during our meeting, including what my relations with her would entail.
I fully planned on getting as close to her as possible. Gaining her trust was as necessary as receiving theirs. I would use any tactic. Friendship? A
confidante? More? A faint smile tugged at my lips. Despite what I had said to Kieran the night at the Red Pearl, I’d had no real plans of seducing the Maiden—or any interest—but that was before meeting her. Tasting her lips. Feeling her beneath me. Seduction was definitely not off the table.
“Is he your first son?” the Duke asked, drawing me from my thoughts.
He spoke to the couple at the foot of the dais. The woman held a small bundle to her chest—a babe.
Mr. Tulis swallowed. “No, Your Grace, he isn’t. He’s our third son.” Fuck.
An image of the babe in the tenement formed.
The Duchess had the absolute opposite reaction, clapping joyfully. “Then Tobias is a true blessing, one who will receive the honor of serving the gods.”
“That’s why we’re here, Your Grace.” Mr. Tulis slipped his arm from around his wife. “Our first son—our dear Jamie—he…he passed no more than three months ago.” He cleared his throat of emotion. “It was a sickness of the blood, the Healers told us. It came on real quick, you see. One day, he was fine, chasing around and getting into all kinds of trouble. And then, the following morning, he didn’t wake up. He lingered for a few days, but he left us.”
Sickness of the blood? The ever-present anger boiled deep. The only sickness was the Ascended who preyed upon mortals at night while they slept. It was likely what had taken Jole Crain’s parents. It was what had
turned that babe. Neither the young nor the old understood that what visited them in the night was no phantom or dream.
“I’m incredibly sorry to hear that,” the Duchess said as she settled back in her seat, her delicate features fixed in sympathy. “And what of the second son?”
“We lost him to the same sickness that took Jamie,” the mother answered. “No more than a year into his life.”
Fuck.
“That is truly a tragedy,” the Duchess said. “I hope you find solace in the knowledge that your dear Jamie is with the gods, along with your second born.”
“We do,” Mrs. Tulis shared. “It’s what’s gotten us through his loss. We come today to hope, to ask…”
Oh, fuck.
for.
I knew it before they even spoke. I knew what they were about to ask
“We came here today to ask that our son not be considered for the Rite
when he comes of age,” Mr. Tulis said, and a rolling gasp hit the Great Hall. His shoulders tensed, but he pressed on. “I know that it’s a lot to ask of you and the gods. He is our third son, but we lost our first two, and my wife, as much as she desires more babes, the Healers said she shouldn’t have more. He is our only remaining child. He will be our last.”
“But he is still your third son,” Duke Teerman responded. “Whether your first thrived or not doesn’t change that your second son and now your third are fated to serve the gods.”
“But we have no other child, Your Grace.” Mrs. Tulis’s voice trembled as her chest rose. “If I were to get pregnant, I could die. We—”
“I understand that,” Duke Teerman interrupted. “And you do understand that while we’ve been given great power and authority by the gods, the
issue of the Rite is not something we can change.”
“But you can speak with the gods.” Mr. Tulis stepped closer but stopped when several Royal Guards shifted forward.
This was…
It was fucking heartbreaking.
“You can speak with the gods on our behalf. Couldn’t you?” Mr. Tulis’s voice roughened. “We are good people.”
Of course, they were.
It just didn’t matter to the Ascended. They needed that small bundle held in the mother’s arms to feed upon.
“Please.” Mrs. Tulis cried openly, her cheeks streaked with tears. “We beg of you to at least try. We know the gods are merciful. We have prayed to Aios and Nyktos every morning and every night for this gift. All we ask is that—”
“What you ask cannot be granted. Tobias is your third son, and this is
the natural order of things,” the Duchess cut in, drawing a broken sob from the mother that cut up my chest. “I know it’s hard, and it hurts now, but your son is a gift to the gods, not a gift from them. That is why we would never ask that of them.”
There was nothing natural about this, and as I glanced over the crowd, I saw that I wasn’t the only one thinking that. Many in the audience stood in shock, unable to believe the Tulises would dare to make such a request. But
others watched the horror unfold, their faces full of sympathy and barely leashed anger as they stared up at the dais—at the Ascended and the Maiden. My hand clenched into a fist as I pushed off the pillar. Vikter stepped in closer to her, likely sensing the brimming anger.
And she—the Maiden—looked uncomfortable. Her fingers were twisting incessantly, and her chest moved rapidly. She appeared as if she were on the verge of running away…
Or stepping forward.
“Please. I beg of you. I beg,” Mr. Tulis pleaded, dropping to his knees. This was…gods, this was one of the worst things I’d ever witnessed,
and I’d seen some shit. Done some of it. But seeing a father and mother beg for the chance to keep their child was something else entirely.
Turning from the nightmare, I slipped through the crowd in the alcove and made my way toward the exit. I had to because I was on the verge of doing something extremely irresponsible and reckless.
Like slaughtering the Ascended right then and there.
But there was something I could do. Purpose filled me as I left the Great Hall. Something that had nothing to do with my brother. I could make sure
the Tulis family remained whole and together and that Tobias didn’t become yet another victim of the Ascended.
