Page 2 of Vows of Sacrifice

Dovah took his time and skillfully unrolled the parchment he’d just been given, as if his gauntlets weren’t equipped with countless lethal spikes.

“I don’t follow you, Your Lordship,” I declared, my voice hoarse with emotion.

“King Elendur Silh of Osacan asks me to accept you as his wife. Mainly for two reasons. The first, to establish his authority over the lands of Muvaria in his name, and the second, to finally force me to take a wife. In exchange, we guarantee the lives of your subjects, your sisters, and yourself, of course. Personally, I gain no benefits from this, only responsibilities I could easily have done without.”

“And if I refuse?”

These words escaped my lips before I could even think them, as if by reflex.

“I have orders to kill you. All of you,” he articulated without revealing the slightest trace of emotion in his voice.

A black veil clouded my vision and I almost fainted.

“I . . .”

My mouth went dry, and I had to moisten my lips several times before I could muster even a little saliva. The answer I was about to give was more painful than anything I’d ever experienced. My heart was being ripped out. Yet I knew I had no choice. I knew it was my only option to protect my family and my people.

“I agree to marry you,” I said harshly.

He didn’t respond immediately.

“I suspected as much,” he finally sighs.

You’d think he’d rather slaughter us all than get engaged. I choked with horror at the thought.

“Princess? Go and pack your bags. We leave within the hour.”

What?

“Are we leaving? But . . . where?”

“We have to get married in the presence of King Elendur,” grumbled Dovah, as if this obligation irritated him to no end. He wants to make sure I don’t escape.

If I understood correctly, I was going to Osacan with my father’s murderer, and now my future husband.

* * *

Once inside my mother’s apartments, I slowly removed my bonnet. It was made of thick white fabric and tied at the nape of my neck. Since childhood, I’d made a habit of wearing one to hide my opulent and abominably curly red hair. All it took was two tight braids and a lot of pins. I’d always envied the silky-smooth hair of my two sisters, whose golden colour was reminiscent of ripe wheat. Why had I inherited this curse of blood-coloured hair?

The worst part had been growing up knowing I was the only one in the whole country with such a hue. I also knew what was said about me because of it: that I was the devil’s child. How could this be the case when I had my father’s green eyes and my mother’s nose? Our nurse had thought it was a spell cast by a witch when my mother was waiting for me, but my parents always refused to believe it. After all, I was their first born. I was “perfect.”

“Are you alright?”

My mother, Queen Lyra, came forward to take me in her arms.

“Yes.”

My voice was barely audible. My sisters Mérédicia and Bhilène joined us. They were like two drops of water, one an exact reflection of the other, right down to their choice of dress. Only the members of our family could recognize them at a glance without making a mistake. What would become of them?

“Did he harm you?” inquired Mérédicia.

“Have you seen Lord Jonah?” asked Bhilène.

Lord Jonah was our father’s hand of justice, the one who was supposed to protect us from the enemy. I shook my head gently to indicate that I had not. I had no idea where he was. I didn’t dare tell them that he was surely dead and that they shouldn’t wait any longer for a possible saviour. Muvaria’s fate was now sealed. But I had to tell them something else, and fast.

“I . . . I have something to tell you . . .”

As if she’d already guessed what I was going to say, our mother clutched the back of the armchair in front of her as I explained the situation in a voice choked with emotion: I was going to have to leave after packing, and worst of all, marry our father’s murderer. There was no other choice. We owed it to our king, who had defended the lands of Muvaria to the bitter end, but also to our people, who needed the help of the royal family—at least, what was left of it—to heal their wounds. Mérédicia burst into tears, quickly joined by Bhilène, and my sisters hugged each other in search of comfort. Our mother embraced me again.

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