Page 20 of Between Sun and Moon

A girl, not much older than twelve, stepped up onto the dais, her hands holding a golden bowl. The older woman, who I gathered to be the priestess, dipped her thumb inside before she pressed her thumb to the prince’s neck. After, she repeated the same action for the king and the queen, marking their throats with red paint. The action was fairly common in most temples, although I’d never devoted the time to learn the meaning behind it.

When she was finished, she bowed her head and the three royals departed for the thrones—the prince taking the middle one with the carved sun.

The choir finished, and the priestess began to speak again—this time, thankfully, in a language I could understand. “Today, in the thirty-fifth year of our king, we have gathered in the temple of the gods of new to praise them. On this day of worship, if any man, woman, or child has come with unnoble intentions,by the laws of the gods, or the laws of this realm, come forward now.”

“We come with noble intentions to praise our beloved gods and goddesses,” the crowd chanted back, their thunderous reply cracking like a whip across my back, causing me to jump. No wonder they forged the walls from stone and not wood—the mere force of so many voices would have shaken a wooden foundation to its knees.

The priestess bowed in reply before she walked towards an altar made of stone, her thick, heavy robes dragging behind her. “Let us begin with a prayer for King Hakred, Queen Melayna, and Prince Aurelius.” The next part she continued in the foreign tongue. But even if she had spoken in English, I wouldn’t have listened, because I was hooked straight through the lip by the reveal of the prince’s first name, which I had never heard before. Despite all of Edenvale holding a weekly celebration for him, peopledid notcall the prince by his first name—he was only ever referred to as theGolden Prince. To call him Prince Aurelius would be considered blasphemy.

Aurelius.

Aurelius.

The male equivalent to the name Arkyn had called me, the first given name of Lady Light—Aurelia.

So coincidentally, not only did we share the same hair color, and not only were we both immortal, our first names were unnervingly similar. But thosecoincidenceswere not the ones that hit me the hardest. No, it was that fact that not only did he have the same date of birth as the Lord of Light—he shared the same first name too.

But those coincidences were not just coincidences, were they?Anddespite whatever little charade he was playing at, he wasn’t some namesake for the Lord of Light—

Hewasthe Lord of Light.

The God of Life.

The King of the New Gods.

And my . . .

Oh shit.

The conversation from last night emerged on the forefront of my mind, bludgeoning its way through like a battering ram.

“Are you married?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Next,a memory with Arkyn wheedled its way in. When he took me to the Temple of Light, he’d asked,“Will you be a good little wife?”

The hinges in my jaw snapped open, my nostrils no longer able to supply the amount of air I needed—not when this cage of a corset was constricting my quick, frantic breaths.

“Are you alright?” Cataline whispered to me, her eyes gone wide.

No. No. No!

I shook my head while my eyes pleaded for help. A silent prayer formed on my trembling lips for someone to get me out of here, to rip the cage from my ribs.

“I get like this sometimes, too, where I can’t breathe,” she whispered softly, her hand grabbing mine. “Think about something else. Whatever it is, you need to get your mind off of it.”

My clammy hands, slipping inside my gloves, squeezed hers back, and although her sudden concern was sweet, it did little to tame the building frenzy wrenching itself up inside of me.

“Think about something else. Listen to the priestess, focus on her voice,” she whispered, her eyes pleading with me not to make a scene.

For her sake, and mine, I yanked my head up and forced myself to focus on the priestess. But then my gaze darted toAurelius, and when his golden eyes met mine, I lost what was left of my composure.

I turned to Cataline and sputtered, “I can’t do this.”

My feet got trapped in the front of my skirts as I shot up from the bench. Without a shred of grace, I began the longestgoing to fall—not going to fallact of my life. And I’m sure it looked as awkward as it felt. When I was certain I was about to finally go down, instinctively, my hand shot out, landing on the shoulder of a man who sat on the other side of the aisle a few rows back.

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