Page 16 of A Court of Truth and Thorns
“That was the tipping point, yes. The greatest of dangers. From that moment on, I worked tirelessly to save Firehorn. The Goddess stays with all of her children, and while there is hope, I fight for each life. I prayed. We all did.” He gestured with an open palm at the other man. “Brother Joshua held a vigil for King Firehorn’s soul. Was that not good of him?”
Violet spared a quick glance at Joshua and mumbled, “Thank you.” Her muscles tensed again.
Bahir smiled. “The battle for King Firehorn’s soul was a hard one, Child. But I am pleased to tell you that we were victorious in the end. King Firehorn accepted the Goddess into his heart and she welcomed him to her. They are together now.”
Violet blinked through her tears, not quite understanding. “My birth father is with the Goddess?” she repeated.
He smiled again. Nodded. Ice shredded Violet’s heart. Her father was dead; that’s what Bahir meant. And Violet was supposed to celebrate the salvation of his soul instead of mourning the loss of his body.
Dead. Dead. Dead. She’d trusted the Messenger and he’d allowed her father to die.
“How did he die, exactly?” Violet breathed.
“By the Goddess’s hand,” Bahir’s tone chided. “What more do you need to know?” He sighed. “I feel your uncertainty, Child; I hear the questions the Dark God seeds in your thoughts. You must fight them, Violet. Do not let evil slip into your heart and darken your eyes now. Use your mind. The sacred knowledge I’ve granted you. Would you wish for your birth father to suffer in the underworld, or to live in the Goddess’s embrace? Tell me.”
Violet swallowed. “The embrace, of course.”
“And if your birth father wanted to give his life to save his soul and his country, would you tell him to stop?” Bahir demanded. “Would you sabotage his chance at salvation and damn his kingdom to punishment and evil’s triumph? Tell me.”
The ice in Violet’s heart dripped into her veins. “I’d want him happy,” she told the Messenger. “Him and all of Dansil.”
The Messenger smiled. “Of course you would. I know your heart is pure and that the call of the Goddess is strong in you. And so did your birth father. He died for a very importantreason—to allow you to bring the Goddess’s love to the people of Dansil. King Firehorn finally saw that which the Dark God had denied him seeing; he sawyou, Violet. The bright, pure, vibrant girl destined to save all of Dansil.”
Ice. Violet was ice and snow and cold. She had no feelings. What manner of Goddess put a head on a spike?
Bahir squeezed her shoulder. “You know that you are vital to the Goddess’s work, do you not, my Child? You know how smart you are? How much your faith matters in the final battle between the Goddess and the Dark God?” Violet could only nod without thought. “Of course you do.” The Messenger rose, straightening his robes. “I think you’ve spent too little time in the sun. Tomorrow you and I shall go back to the palace. Brother Joshua will arrange to have your things moved.”
Violet stiffened. No words came. But no feelings either. That was good.
“You will not be alone,” Bahir promised quickly. “You will never be alone again, my Child. I will stand by your side.”
The words that should have summoned comfort brought only a void. “What about my brother?” her voice asked.
Joshua and Bahir exchanged glances. “I fear the news on that front is not as fortunate,” said Bahir. “Prince William fell into the Dark God’s lure. We have people searching for him as we speak.”
“And then what?”
Bahir frowned. “We will show him the truth, of course. About the Goddess and the Dark God and the coming battle.”
A shiver ran down Violet’s spine, but she wiped the back of her hand across her face and stood. “If the king is with the Goddess and Wil is gone, who sits on Dansil’s throne?” she asked, straightening her dress the way Bahir had straightened his own robes.
“The throne belongs to the Goddess now,” said Bahir. “As her Messenger, I will translate her will for the Dansil people.” A smile. “And you, Child, will take your place by my side, a princess leading the people of Dansil by example and devotion.”
11
KALI
The soldiers who take hold of my arms are gentle—until I see the tent at the north side of camp, far enough away to muffle noise, and start to struggle against their grip. Stupid and pointless, but I can’t help it. My mouth is dry, my palms damp. My legs feel as if they could run for leagues if just given a chance.
The soldiers haul me inside, ignoring my attempts to bury my boots in the ground. Metal manacles close around my wrists with a deafeningclank. A chain is measured from each of them to a stake driven into the rock floor.
Trace let them take me, and they did. The obsidian wall in my mind trembles. The world around me darkens as if fog has rolled over the sun.
“Prisoner secure,” a soldier reports to Lieutenant Copa.
“Very good.” Copa turns to me, his eyes smoldering. “No one appreciates being deceived, Mistress Kalianna. Least of all the Everett army.” I sink to the ground. A numbness spreads from my chest. I cling to the void for fear of losingwhat little control I have over myself. Copa sighs and checks my chains and manacles. Satisfied that all is in order, he leans out of the tent. “The prisoner is secure, Your Highness. You may enter.”
Raza?I’ve only a moment to wonder what the broken girl wants with me before she enters in a flurry of skirts. The bandage covering her eye has shifted and the tail of a jagged red scar, running like a rat’s tail down her cheek, is startling against her sallow skin.
