Page 5 of Vows of Sacrifice

“I’ll ask Dovah to take you to my place for a few days.”

The invitation seemed absurd as things stood, but the man seemed so nice that I didn’t have the heart to refuse his offer.

“I’d be delighted, thank you.”

“Are you almost finished? Would you also like a cup of tea and some cookies to get to know each other?” interjected my frightening fiancé.

I instinctively stiffened under the admonition. Paivrin chuckled softly.

“Not yet married and already jealous,” he commented in a low voice. “That’s a good omen.”

“I beg your pardon?”

I didn’t believe for a moment what he was implying about Dovah, but Paivrin’s only response to my skeptical tone was a warm smile.

We arrived at the wrought-iron kiosk, completely covered with thorns and black roses. Dovah passed us to examine the place with a critical eye.

“Is it close enough to nature for you?” he asked.

It was obvious he was talking to his friend. Paivrin moved forward, using his staff to avoid obstacles. A staff that looks like a question mark whose sinuous lines seem tortured, I thought as I watched him.

“Yes,” Paivrin confirmed in a breath. I feel connected.

Dovah nodded.

“Well, then, let’s go.”

With that, Dovah invited me to sit beside him in the booth with a wave of his hand. I hesitated for a moment. Oh, not very long, really, but long enough for him to furrow his brow. Then I hurried to join him.

It was too much for me. This day, with no end in sight, was killing me as surely as my future husband’s enormous sword would have done.

In a mechanical reflex, I placed my hand in his and, strangely enough, the contact of our palms against each other electrified me. If it felt the same for him, he didn’t show it.

Paivrin positioned himself in front of us with a dexterity that commanded respect. For a man with such a handicap, I found him incredibly agile. It was truly intriguing.

He tilted his head back slightly, dropping the hood of his cape, then raised his arms to the sky before beginning to utter a curious litany of strange accents. He was using an unfamiliar language, though I’d studied no less than a dozen of them: Osacanian and Arslaisian, which, along with Muvarian, were the most widely spoken languages of the Lower World, as well as local dialects and even those of distant islands.

Suddenly, something strange happened: the grass began to quiver and the branches of the trees cracked. I could even hear the black roses shiver under an imaginary wind. I looked around, anxious and alert. My gaze met Dovah’s. He wore a worrying half-smile, even somewhat mocking. He was amused by my fear, which made me all the more furious. As for Paivrin, he continued to chant prayers, or magic incantations, given the change in atmosphere.

“You’re going to belong to me, Ashana of Muvaria,” said Dovah abruptly in a deep, sensual voice.

It was the first time he’d said my name. As my gaze was drawn to his, I felt as if he were hypnotizing me.

“You will bind your soul to mine. Your life to mine. Your body to mine. For all eternity,” he continued. “Neither time, nor space, nor other gods, old or new, will be able to break what will unite us, for only our Father’s will prevails.”

The roses began to grow and, before my astonished eyes, spread out over the ground in a carpet of brambles. Then came the grass. It covered Paivrin from head to toe, wrapping itself around Dovah’s and my clasped hands.

“What’s going on?” I panicked. “Is this magic?”

My fiancé smiled ominously.

“A magic as old as the world, when the creators still reigned as absolute masters over this desolate land now trodden by ungrateful humans. I take you as my bride, Ashana of Muvaria. You are now the wife of a powerful lord, the lord of ashes. Let my blood flow through your veins and let yours set me free.”

I didn’t quite understand the meaning of the words he spoke, and there was a bizarre echo that layered over them, giving them a frightening dimension. Then he bowed to me to unite our lips and seal our marriage according to his religion—or so I thought. No one had kissed me before Dovah. No one had even considered stealing a kiss from me, for that matter. I had no means of comparison, but the instant his mouth pressed against mine, my whole body began to vibrate, as an unfamiliar warmth spread everywhere, right down to my belly. I felt wobbly and, probably to prevent me from collapsing to the floor, Dovah encircled my waist with his muscular arm. The only coherent thought that managed to cross my foggy mind was: No! Don’t let your father’s murderer kiss you!

I tried to push him away, but to no avail. I felt like I was trying to push over a mountain.

“Dovah!”

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