Page 4 of Vows of Sacrifice

“I’m going to unite you,” announced Paivrin, striking the ground with his staff.

“A ceremony has already been scheduled in Osacan,” said Dovah, not enthused by this prospect.

“You know it doesn’t have the same value as ours.”

Dovah emitted a sort of animal growl.

“You can be wrong in your visions.”

“That’s never happened before, and you know it too,” his interlocutor countered, with a sort of indulgence in the inflection of his voice.

Dovah raised his arms to the sky.

“So be it! I’m not that close to a curse anyway, am I?”

With that, he closed the distance between us and took me by the arm. His face, his terrible, seductive face, was so close to mine that he could have brushed my nose with his lips. I immediately forgot to gasp for air.

“What would you rather do, blood-haired bride? Marry the monster who has killed thousands of Muvarians, or die by the same sword?”

Proposing it like that was perfectly unfair. And terrifying.

“If I had your word that you would let my family and my people live, then I would accept death without hesitation.”

The timbre of my voice trembled, and my eyes burned from trying to fight back tears of anguish, yet I refused to lower them. I held his dark gaze to the end.

“Fool,” he finally murmured with an irritated sneer.

He moved away from me as quickly as he had approached, then, without a glance at the man who seemed to be his friend, he blurted out, “You can marry us, Paivrin. And you, my fiancée,” he spat, “can find us a quiet spot in the gardens. We don’t need witnesses for this union,” he added for my benefit.

So I complied, and under the fearful and curious gazes of the castle’s inhabitants who were still hesitating to return to their occupations, I led them to the rose garden kiosk, which was the furthest point from the main buildings.

“How old are you, my dear?” asked Paivrin, walking beside me.

Dovah stayed far behind us to make it clear that he was in no hurry. I wondered what kind of ceremony could surpass that imposed by the King of Osacan.

“Eighteen this year, my lord,” I replied neutrally.

I was the eldest princess, the one who should have married first. However, the colour of my hair had put off potential suitors. Even my sisters, three years younger than me, had started receiving proposals from several princes, including those from Arslais. Until today, I’d come to terms with the idea of remaining an old maid and I felt no shame about it. Who could have predicted that, in the end, I would find a husband who would still have my father’s blood on his breastplate on our wedding day?

“You’re very young.”

I gave him a sidelong glance.

“I’m past the marriageable age.”

“In your country, perhaps, but not in mine.”

I was surprised to hear that. So, he wasn’t from Osacan?

“Where are you from?”

“I am of Gulan. It’s between Osacan and Arslais. We’re a principality that lives in harmony with the Underworld. We know no war, only prosperity.”

The Lower World was everything on earth. In contrast, the Upper World was the kingdom of heaven, and everything deep within the earth itself was called the Underworld.

I smile sadly.

“That’s enviable.”

---