Page 22 of The Rose (The Godwicks 2)

“Does he love you very much?” the little girl asked.

“Oh, yes,” Lia said. “He loves me...very much.”

The little girl smiled, delighted. Lia blinked the tears from her eyes.

The girl’s mother looked at her with gratitude and sorrow.

“You are a great lady,” she whispered as she bowed her head. “Surely your name will be written in the stars.”

The woman took her daughter by the hand, and it was a sword in Lia’s heart to hear the girl calling out to all who would listen. “It’s a lie! It’s a lie! She’s getting married. The princess won’t die tonight! Do you hear? She’s not going to die! She’s marrying a hero who’s as handsome as the night is dark! And he loves her, too!”

Old men muttered “Madness” and “Poor fool” and “Silly girl” as the child skipped down the lane back to her home.

Forgive your maiden one last lie, Artemis, Lia prayed as she walked on.I could not bear to see the child cry.

As she neared the edge of the sea, the water grew wilder. The sand shifted under her feet, and somewhere she heard what sounded like boulders falling off the cliffs and into the ocean. They were not boulders, however, but houses.

This wrath must end.

The sun was near its setting, so low its belly brushed the top of the water. The sea was red as blood, the blood dark as wine. Lia turned and saw one of the king’s guards holding a length of iron chain.

“Is it heavy, sir?” Lia asked him.

“It is a far lighter burden than you bear, my princess.”

“If it is so light,” Lia said, “then my mother could carry it.”

Her mother stepped forward. Her head was low, her eyes downcast.

“Andromeda...” The queen’s voice clutched at her like a hand. “Please...”

“Take the chain, Mother. You shall bind me,” Lia said.

“But—”

“Do as your daughter tells you,” her father ordered. “And be grateful she will speak to you at all.”

The fury in his voice roused the queen’s dignity. She stepped forward quickly, took the chain from the guard and approached her daughter. They walked to the spot chosen for the sacrifice. Hooks had already been driven deep into the rock face closest to the sea. Lia brought her fingertips to her lips and then knelt to touch the water.

“A kiss, Poseidon,” she said to the sea. “If you want more, I am here waiting for you.”

She rose.

Lia looked back over her shoulder at the faces of the hundreds gathered.

“Please,” she said to the guard who had declared her burden so heavy. “Turn away.”

The guard bowed once to her and obeyed.

“Away!” he cried. “Look away!”

She watched until every last man had turned his back to her.

Lia, as Andromeda, unbelted her dress. She unhooked the pins from her shoulders. The gown whispered to the ground. Naked, she faced her mother.

“I was born naked,” she said. “How fitting I will die naked, as well. By your labor I came into this world. By your labor I will leave it.”

Her mother’s hands did not shake as she bound her daughter to the black rock. And no matter how tightly her mother bound her, Lia demanded she be bound tighter.

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