Page 73 of Vows of Sacrifice

I ran a hand over my face, resisting the urge to wake her up and beg her to let me make love to her like I’d been dreaming of for days.

* * *

The Temple of the Dark Gods was colossal. It had required centuries of construction and many costly materials such as marble, gold, jade, obsidian, and so many others that to enumerate them would have taken me an inordinate amount of time. Jessop stood before me, on the highest step leading to the altar dedicated to Wulous, the eagle-headed god of Osacan. He was wearing the traditional garb of the priests of the Cult of the Dark Gods: a white linen loincloth encircling his waist and reaching down to his ankles, and a golden breastplate, a massive, extremely heavy piece of jewellery, which covered almost the entirety of his torso.

Like all the priests of the cult, Jessop had a shaven head and was tattooed with an eagle whose wings spread behind his ears. He stared at me smiling; two black orbs sunken deep their socket, from which nothing could escape.

At his side stood the brother and sister, the royal twins dressed in their finest attire. Elendur played the benevolent king with his paternalistic smile, a role he was very fond of, while Nadrisse made no secret of her irritation. Today, she wasn’t the centre of attention, and I assumed she hated it. She should have been wearing red, just like her king, yet she was dressed in a dazzling white gown, and I didn’t have to wonder long about the reason for this choice. At the sound of the salpinx, long trumpets whose round ends touched the ground, Ashana arrived, escorted by a dozen priestesses.

She wore a white dress with a less daring neckline than the Isamane. The veil covering her face prevented me from discerning her expression. I refrained from turning towards my former mistress to give her an annoyed look. Very, very annoyed.

Then, my eyes could no longer tear themselves away from Ashana, whose long train followed her like a pearly shadow. Once she was close to me, I offered her a hand, which she accepted.

Jessop immediately began the ceremony, raising his arms to the sky in prayer to the deity Wulous. The priestesses who had accompanied Ashana lit the incense to the right and left of the golden altar, whose feet were shaped like eagles’ talons. Jessop began to chant the prayer to the Dark God, invoking his presence among us and blessing my union with Ashana.

One of the priestesses wrapped a silk ribbon she’d woven around our hands. Inscribed on it were a series of Osacanian hieroglyphs which meant “Love—Joy—Longevity.”

The ceremony itself was very short. It was the whole ritual before and after that took up an excessive amount of time. There was the songs. There was the music. The prayers to the Dark Gods. The gongs. The offerings. Lots of offerings. More songs.

I couldn’t help casting a few glances in my wife’s direction to see if she could bear all this while she herself worshipped the direct competitor of the Patriarchs: the One God. She seemed to remain stoic and her hand didn’t tremble in mine. I admired her. Sincerely. This woman had been forced to marry her father’s murderer, sent to an unknown country with different customs. To top it all off, they’d tried to poison her, and a monster she’d never even known existed had nearly torn her to pieces the night before her wedding . . .

Yet she kept her head on her shoulders and faced these trials with valour. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. If only we could get that damned veil off her so I could see her eyes!

“Hand of justice from the Kingdom of Osacan!”

It was Jessop, and from the tone of his voice, he’d already tried calling out to me before that. I raised a provocative eyebrow. King Elendur leaned forward:

“I know you like your wife very much, but could you please say your vows so that Lady Ashana does the same and this ceremony ends on time?”

Elendur was openly making fun of me. I cleared my throat while giving him a look that warned him not to push me too far. If it allowed me to take my anger out on someone, decapitating his head of cults and temples posed no problem for my conscience.

“Ashana Carlion of Muvaria, I take you as my wife, before the Dark Gods of Osacan, the Ancient and the Glorious,” I recited in a loud voice.

At this, my wife turned her head towards me, and a priestess finally removed her opaque veil. When I discovered her features, enhanced by typical Osacanian make-up, my jaw dropped in amazement. Her almond-shaped eyes, outlined with kohl, were hypnotic. A true goddess.

“Dovah, hand of justice of Osacan the Ancient and the Glorious, hand of justice of King Elendur Silh, son of Yblis, I take you to be my husband.”

“May the god Wulous grant you his favour,” proclaimed Jessop, immediately echoed by the others present in the temple.

I then leaned towards Ashana and kissed her. It wasn’t part of the rite, but I didn’t care. Her mouth was calling to mine to seal our fates, until death do us part.

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1 “Monster, I am your death! No one has the right to touch my Ashana. No one but me.”

11

ASHANA

“This is Gulan the Peaceful.”

Gulan was a very small country that cultivated the art of living in peace, regardless of your race or origins. A welcoming land in close contact with nature and, according to Dovah, with the little people. It was here that his brother Paivrin had decided to live.

“But it’s so cold!” grumbled Luanda, clutching her cape tightly with her free hand.

The other held the reins of the mare she was riding.

“It’s normal,” I reassured her. “You are from Osacan, which is probably the hottest country in the world.”

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