The Temple of Sacrifice

by Tameri Etherton

  “Yes, I feel the same about the procession.” Marissa’s voice came from far away. “Are you enjoying Celyn Eryri?”

  “Very much so. It’s a winter wonderland.”

  “I’ve always found the cold too bitter, but this season is more pleasant.” A thread of Marissa’s ShantiMari enveloped them. The calculated coolness was there but dulled, strained even. “Will you be participating in the games?” Marissa asked.

  Taryn let her sister’s power tickle her skin for a moment. There was something in her ShantiMari, something elusive Taryn tried to touch, but fell short. “I’ve been coerced into an event having to do with ice and racing. I’m not sure how I’ll fare, but Tessa thinks it will be grand fun. Baehlon thinks I should participate in the hunt, but I don’t know. Chasing an animal for sport doesn’t sound like fun to me.”

  “Oh, but you must! The hunt is my favorite.” Her hand fluttered above her belly. “You really should consider it.” The dance ended and Marissa curtseyed to her. “You make a wonderful partner.”

  Taryn grinned. “Thanks, I think.” She walked beside Marissa to a table, neither speaking. Before her sister sat down, Taryn touched her arm. “I’ve sent a letter to Zakael, requesting a visit.”

  “Why are you telling me?”

  “It was your suggestion. I just thought you’d like to know.”

  Marissa regarded her for a moment before replying. “I’m sure your visit will be exactly what you hope it to be.”

  The tone unnerved Taryn, but she kept her features blank. Changing the subject, Taryn said, “It is you who is radiant this evening, not me. You have an aura about you that I’ve never seen before.”

  Marissa shrugged. “It must be the wine. I see your betrothed is looking for you.” She indicated to Taryn’s left. “Perhaps you should dance with him and leave me to rest.”

  “Can I get you anything first?”

  She shook her head. “Go. Dance with your betrothed. I’ll be fine. See? Here comes Tessa to take your place.”

  Taryn kissed Tessa on the forehead as she passed, promising another dance soon. Rhoane took her hand and led her into the group of dancers. A lightness, freeing and full of promise, settled over Taryn as he spun her around the dance floor.

  “It delights me to see you so happy, my love,” Rhoane whispered.

  “If only every night could be like this.” She laughed as he lifted her high and twirled them, bringing her down gently, close to his body. “Kiss me and tell me you’ll love me forever.”

  “Forever, my love.” His lips touched hers and a jolt of electricity ran through them. His body stiffened, then relaxed as the kiss continued. Taryn held him tight to her, suddenly afraid to let him go. The feeling of lightness edged away, replaced with a biting joylessness that spread like ice crystals across her skin.

  THE games started the next day with trumpets and fanfare. Taryn sat in the royal box, wincing with each blast of the horns. Even Kaida curled deeper under her feet to avoid the dreaded sound. Baehlon in particular looked a bit green and she joked with him about not being able to handle his drink. He scowled at her as he made his way from the box to the participants’ tent. He was scheduled for three of the five events that day and hadn’t had the foresight, as many of the other participants had, to leave the festivities early for a good night’s sleep.

  Several men and four women took their places at posts erected in the ground. Taryn scanned the competitors, her gaze settling on one in particular. He wore his black hair short, with a goatee that stretched toward his chest with small bells woven through the braids. Too far away for most to see his features clearly, Taryn could make out the almond shape of his eyes against his burnished skin. The man gave a disgusted grunt in Baehlon’s direction and Taryn sat straighter.

  “Rhoane, that man over there.” She pointed to the one she watched. “Who is he?”

  Rhoane chuckled beneath his breath. “Denzil de Monteferron.”

  “You’re kidding.” Taryn stared at Baehlon’s brother as he hurled taunts to the other man. “They don’t seem to get along too well.” Baehlon, for his part, was making lewd gestures to the other man.

  “Denzil is a mercenary. Baehlon never forgave him for leaving the family trade of becoming a knight.”

  “A mercenary.” Taryn cringed when a loud siren trilled, indicating the start of competition.

  Screams and catcalls came from the gathered crowd as the men and women, all stripped of their shirts and slathered with goose fat, tried to climb the wooden poles. The first to reach the top would earn a gold crown.

  The games had few rules, with only one being absolute—no use of ShantiMari was permitted. Since using one’s power couldn’t be proved, if it was even suggested that someone cheated, they were immediately evicted from the games and banned from participation for life.

  Taryn cheered with the others, urging Baehlon to reach the top. His fingertips touched the ribbon a split second behind a spry woman twice his age. He cursed to the sky and then flung himself from the pole to land gracefully on the ground. His brother settled a pace to his right and they glared at each other before Baehlon stalked away.

  Denzil’s heated glance met Taryn’s and for a moment she saw the hurt Baehlon’s action had caused. Denzil blinked hard and looked away, only to return his glance a second later. She inclined her head in recognition of his efforts, a begrudging smile on her lips.

  The rest of the day’s events also required the participants to be half dressed and greased with goose fat. Taryn began to suspect Lliandra had devised the games as a way to choose her next lover. The empress watched with keen interest as the men and women wrestled with each other.

  The young lordling Taryn saw with Marissa her first night in Celyn Eryri strutted to the center of the ring, taking his place before the trumpet flared. Marissa sat back in her chair, a bored expression on her face, but her gaze tracked the handsome man until the match ended. A look of relief spread over her beautiful features when he lost.

  Over the course of the day, Lliandra would motion to Myrddin regarding one or the other competitors. After each event, the competitors were paraded before the royal box and given a kiss by the empress. Of the few men Lliandra had indicated, those who won were pulled aside.

  Taryn grinned when the young lordling brushed his lips across Lliandra’s, and up to her ear, apparently to whisper an impertinence. Instead of anger, Lliandra’s eyes flashed excitement. The young man was escorted with the others the empress had chosen. Marissa hid her emotions well, but the narrowing of her eyes and tightness of her lips told Taryn she was not happy with the outcome. Score one for the assertive young lord, score zero for the crown princess.

  Far in the distance, a spark of lightning lit up the dark sky. Lliandra cast a sharp look at the crown princess. Taryn observed the interplay, noting each woman’s reaction to the other. They were allies, yes, but the petty jealousies they displayed bespoke of a hidden rivalry. If left unchecked, they would soon be adversaries.

  Taryn studied her sister’s profile as Marissa spoke with Tessa. Her sister was heir to the Light Throne and spying for Zakael. Marissa laughed at something Tessa said and turned to meet Taryn’s stare. As if she knew what treacherous thoughts drifted in Taryn’s mind, Marissa winked. Lliandra had no idea her daughter was her greatest enemy. Marissa raised an eyebrow and left the royal box, Tessa in her wake.

  That night at the feast, the crown princess entertained herself with several lords and ladies, far from where the empress sat at a special table with the victors she’d chosen. Each man wore handsome clothes fit for a prince and filled their plates with rich foods, their goblets never less than full. Lliandra dressed in pale-blue velvet, her neckline dipping scandalously close to revealing her nipples. Her mother’s appetite for pleasure was legendary and the chosen men strutted as if they’d won a prize far better than gold. Studs for a brood mare.

  Taryn pushed her disapproval aside. If her mother chose to have many lovers, it was not her concer
n. She had Rhoane and needed none other but him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Scant light from his drossfire lit the way as Rhoane strode from the battlements through the deserted hallways. Most of the castle inhabitants slept, but he knew there would be one awake at that early hour and he wanted to freshen up before calling on her.

  For the past few nights, he’d searched for ways to keep Rykoto far from his beloved’s dreams. In his absence, he sent their friends to stay with her with the hope their presence would bring her calm.

  Since the attack by the river, Rykoto had left Taryn in peace, but she slept fitfully at best. How the god managed to invade her mind, he didn’t know. Desperate for answers, Rhoane had consulted his father about the situation and even the great king was at a loss as to how they could stop the mad god. Myrddin was little help as well. Two of Aelinae’s greatest thinkers were equally puzzled, each offering to search for answers.

  Rhoane was determined to find a solution, even if it meant traveling the length of Aelinae and hunting down every Black or Dark master he could find. Someone had to know something to help her. He refused to let the desperate panic creep into his thoughts, but their time was drawing short. She had to release all of her powers to be complete. Without completing the trinity, she could not defend herself against Rykoto.

  The trinity does not lie within your beloved. The crone’s words taunted him. What had the master meant and how did it affect Rykoto’s hold on Taryn? Rhoane needed answers, some of which could only come from Taryn.

  Sabina slipped from Taryn’s rooms, nearly colliding with him. She curtseyed a greeting, still sleepy from her night’s vigil.

  “How is she?” Rhoane asked.

  “She slept well, which is more than I can say.” She stretched her back, turning her head from side to side. “Kaida insisted on sleeping with us like she did when she was a pup. I don’t think she knows how big she’s gotten.”

  “Thank you for being a true friend.”

  A spark of irritation lit in her velvety brown eyes. “A true friend wouldn’t leave with only a note as explanation.”

  Rhoane took the reprimand in stride. He knew Sabina had forgiven Taryn. “If you must blame someone, let it be me. Taryn wished to tell you, but I prevented her.”

  “She is the most unusual person I’ve ever met, but I love her almost as much as you do.” Sabina placed her hand on his cheek, frowning. “You should get some sleep. These long nights will demand a toll. Don’t you have a competition coming up?”

  “There is plenty of time for rest. This morning, I am taking Taryn ice skating before the hunt. Perhaps this afternoon you could keep her busy?”

  “I’ll show her kalaith, the art of communicating with a fan. It’s about time she learned to be a respectable princess and not always be running off with you to gods know where.”

  “I am sure Taryn enjoys her princess lessons. Remember, she was raised far from court and does not see being a princess as a responsibility. It is up to us to educate her.”

  Sabina stood taller, tossing her long hair as she did with Hayden when she wanted something from him. “And where again was she raised?”

  Rhoane chucked her under the chin. “Nice try. Someday we will tell you, but for now it must remain a mystery.” They often played this game, but it was one he did not enjoy.

  “Yes, I suppose it will. As is often the case with you and Taryn, I fear.” She leaned close to whisper. “Have you spoken with Hayden regarding the situation in Talaith?”

  With the danger Rykoto presented, it had completely slipped his mind. From Sabina’s expression, he guessed Hayden had uncovered some interesting information regarding Lliandra’s illegal taxes. “I have not. Today, I promise.”

  “I’ll tell him to expect you. For now, you need to wash up and I need more sleep. Good day, Prince Rhoane.” She dipped a shallow curtsey before yawning and slouching toward her room.

  “Good night, Princess,” he said to her retreating back.

  In the long seasons Taryn had been away from Aelinae, he’d often wondered where she was hiding. Truth was, he wasn’t sure he, even now, understood where Taryn came from. Why Nadra had chosen to put Taryn where she did was a question he wanted to ask the goddess, and yet Rhoane knew she would say it was part of his path to decipher. Sometimes he longed for a world without gods and their damned riddles.

  After a quick nap and change of attire, he knocked on Taryn’s door, only to be welcomed by her giggling maids. It seemed Darius had arrived to take Kaida for a walk, but Taryn insisted he stay to break his fast. Somehow, Taryn had discerned her maid Ellie had an affection for the lad. From what Rhoane could tell, it was reciprocated. One thing was certain—if Taryn wanted them together, they might as well sign the betrothal warrant that moment.

  Breakfast finished, they said their farewells and left a very confused Darius with Taryn’s silly maids.

  Blustery skies greeted them when they left the castle, making their way through the town to the frozen pond. Taryn shivered from the cold, leaning into Rhoane for warmth. She wore a handsome blue velvet cape trimmed with white fur over a heavy sweater and woolen leggings, but the cold managed to find its way through the fabric to her skin.

  She turned her face to the grey sky. “It looks like it might snow. Will the hunt go on?”

  There was little chance the weather would dampen Lliandra’s favorite event. She would most certainly detour the storm, sending it off to the west. As the Lady of Light, she was able to control the weather in much the same way he could manipulate time. “The hunt has never been canceled or postponed.”

  “I think it’s barbaric to chase an animal for sport.”

  “I completely agree.” He kissed the top of her head, thanking Verdaine Taryn was more Eleri than Aelan. The Eleri hunted for food, not entertainment.

  Kaida ran ahead of them, her white fur making her almost indistinguishable from the thick snow that blanketed the ground. She’d become such an integral part of Taryn’s life Rhoane scarcely remembered a time when she wasn’t at Taryn’s side.

  The day they found the grierbas, he’d fought against her decision to keep the pup, but could see now that she was as much a part of Taryn’s path as he was. He knew Taryn could communicate with the beast and, truth be told, was a little jealous he could not. There wasn’t a creature in the Narthvier he couldn’t speak to, except the grierbas.

  Kaida loped around the pond, barking every now and again or dashing off to chase a rabbit while Rhoane helped Taryn become accustomed to the bone blades. She swore loudly each time she landed on her backside, cursing the animal the blades came from and the pond itself, which made Rhoane double over in laughter. He often assumed Taryn would excel at everything she did. To see her struggle with a simple task like ice skating only made her more endearing.

  “This is ridiculous. These blades are less than useless.” Taryn pulled herself to a sitting position after another bad spill. “Is this made of ice?” she asked, regarding the ornate border that ran along the perimeter of the pond. Her fingers traced the delicately carved roses, gasping when one drew blood. “It’s bespelled.” She sucked on her finger, frowning. “Who’s responsible for this?”

  Rhoane offered her his hand, pulling her up into his arms. “The winner of last season’s ice competition. A blacksmith, I believe.”

  “Will you take me to him?” She had a spark in her eye that made him wary.

  “Do I dare ask why you wish to see a blacksmith?”

  “For proper ice skates, what else?” Her quick smile and flash of mischief tugged at his heart.

  Iselt, the blacksmith, was a robust man. Stocky, with a bald pate and serious demeanor, he wore a leather apron over equally thick leather trousers, leaving his chest and arms bare against the heat of his forge. When they approached, he acknowledged Rhoane, giving Kaida a quick glance before looking at Taryn with far too much interest.

  “This is Princess Taryn, Empress Lliandra’s daughter,” Rhoane said by
way of introduction.

  Iselt spit out a hunk of black goo and wiped his hands on his apron. “Heard there was another one, but didn’t expect her to be a full-grown woman.” His gaze roamed over Taryn’s body with an appreciative nod.

  “My betrothed,” Rhoane added.

  “Lucky you. What can I do for you, Your Highnesses?”

  After a lengthy reprimand about bespelled roses, Taryn described what she required. Iselt brushed off her recriminations with a warning she needed to be more careful. Rhoane leaned against a counter, watching the two of them bicker and haggle over not just the roses, but Taryn’s skates.

  “What you propose, steel blades thin like a dagger, is too dangerous,” the blacksmith argued.

  “Perhaps I should look elsewhere. I was told you’re the best smith in the area, but obviously my information was wrong.”

  Iselt took the bait. “It’s your neck to break. I can have the blades ready in a week.”

  “Two days.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Then our conversation is at an end. Good day, Iselt.” Taryn turned her back on the man and strode from the shop. Rhoane stayed where he was, an eyebrow quirked at the smith.

  “Blasted woman! Fine, two days.”

  The price he charged was outrageous, but Taryn paid it without argument. She knew when to hold her tongue. Iselt watched her leave with an admiring smile until he met Rhoane’s amused stare. He cleared his throat and took up a hammer. Rhoane tilted his chin in farewell, chuckling to himself. Taryn had no idea how her beauty dazzled those she met.

  Taryn skipped up the road toward the cobbler, her mood carefree. It wasn’t often he saw her with a genuine smile that touched her eyes.

  “We’ll need boots, of course. Do you suppose he’ll know Tessa’s size? I want to order her a pair of skates as well.”

  The cobbler did indeed have Tessa’s measurements as he’d recently made her a pair of slippers. Once the cobbler had Rhoane’s and Taryn’s measurements as well, Taryn paid the man and they left his shop to wander through the streets of Celyn Eryri.