Page 3 of Vows of Sacrifice

“Be brave, my darling. A great trial awaits you and we won’t be able to be at your side to support you. My heart bleeds to lose you, but nobility obliges. We have a responsibility to the people of our kingdom. I’m proud of you,” she finished with a wail.

I nodded, unable to utter a single word. Just as I was about to open the door to go to my rooms and pack my things, a servant appeared, out of breath.

“Lady Ashana,” he began between gasping breaths. “Lord Dovah requests your presence in the king’s study.”

I was shaking all over. What did he want from me now? Had he changed his mind? Was he going to kill me? I smoothed my forest-green velvet dress mechanically, as if this gesture, which was supposed to keep me calm, could also erase the bloodstains embedded in the fabric.

“I . . . I’m with you,” I stammered.

The servant, a fifteen-year-old boy called Massim, nodded. His features were drawn, and his complexion was alarmingly pale. I recognized him. He usually worked in the stables, but ever since the Osacanians had invaded the castle, he seemed to have been reassigned as a squire to Dovah, the Black Demon. Although I was in no hurry to join him, I kept pace with Massim, whose strides were fast. I didn’t want him to be punished if I dragged on too long.

As we entered what had once been my father’s study, I noticed that Dovah had taken off his helmet. I couldn’t see his face yet, though. He still had his back to me, his gaze fixed on his work, the blood-stained landscape of Muvaria on fire that unfolded before him beyond the window.

“There’s been a slight change in plans,” he began, still not facing me.

“Ah?” I asked, convinced that he was finally going to kill us all.

Hearing my unsure voice, he turned his head in my direction, and when he saw me, his eyes widened in astonishment.

“You . . .” he murmured.

I recoiled, then recoiled again, until my back hit the door. Something powerful and dark was emanating from him. An abominable aura. I couldn’t define it, but my whole body wanted to run away from it.

“Your hair. Is that its natural colour?” he then inquired in a sinister voice.

“I . . . I . . .”

“Answer me!”

“Yes!” I shouted, as if crying out for help. “I’ve always had red hair! Satisfied?”

A silence as heavy as the weight of the world descended on the room of crimson drapes and cherrywood furniture. I stared at him, shocked not only by his attitude, but also by the breathtakingly virile beauty of his features. For some obscure reason, I’d imagined him to be as hideous as his actions when, clearly, the opposite was true. A square jaw devoured by an incipient beard, short, thick hair of a black so opaque it seemed to absorb light, and a straight nose with a well-proportioned mouth. It was the perfect portrait of a knight of dark charm. I would have preferred him to be ugly. Very ugly.

“Well, that confirms my visions,” intervened an amused male voice.

I immediately turned to the right, where it seemed to be coming from. As if emerging from nowhere, I saw a man appear before me, dressed in a hooded cloak of green darker than my dress. He was tall, almost as tall as Dovah, but instead of short jet-black hair, the stranger’s hair was longer, below the shoulders, and a shade of golden blond similar to that of my sisters.

However, there was one detail that intrigued me—apart from his beauty, which was comparable to that of Dovah, although his features seemed less harsh, more cheerful—and that was his eyes. The hue of his irises, a pale, almost milky green, piqued my curiosity. I lowered my eyes to his hands and saw that he was holding a long staff, one of those used by the blind to navigate, and then I understood.

“Paivrin!” growled Dovah.

So, the stranger—who seemed to be close to the Black Demon—was called Paivrin.

“I couldn’t have invented such a hair colour. ‘And the wife of the master of ashes shall possess hair of blood,’” he recited.

Master of ashes? Blood-haired bride? Was he talking about Lord Dovah and myself?

“Marrying her was the plan,” retorted Dovah dryly. “Elendur leaves me no choice, you see.”

Paivrin burst into a loud laugh as he approached me. Strangely enough, I wasn’t as frightened of him as I was of the evil Dovah staring back at us with his black eyes. And it wasn’t just a mere image: his eyes were actually the same colour as coal.

“Planned, you say? I know you, Dovah. Elendur may have chained you to him in a state of servitude that displeases us, but you accepted his proposal a little too quickly. We both know that you hope to get rid of her before you return to Osacan, and it’s to prevent that from happening that I’ve come here.”

Lord Dovah’s lack of protest made me nauseous. He remained perfectly still, stoic even in his facial expression. Paivrin laughed again as I nearly fainted. He’d planned to kill me on the way. He’d rather murder me than bother with a wife. My God! I closed my eyes for a moment, not quite sure how to breathe.

“I hope you’re not going to faint,” said Dovah irritably.

“Why shouldn’t I? All you’d have to do is draw your sword and finish me off,” I retorted bitterly, to which my future husband did not respond. Was he really thinking about it? I opened my eyes abruptly, then met his gaze.

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