The Temple of Sacrifice

by Tameri Etherton

  With more control than she thought possible, she maneuvered her body until she faced him. They were close enough she could see the pores of his skin. “Please, enlighten me.”

  Grinning as if he’d won first prize at a fair, he pressed his hardness into her, pinning her against the balcony wall. “Oh, I intend to.”

  He bent to kiss her but she pushed against his chest to stop him.

  “Don’t fight me, Taryn. When we last spoke at Gaarendahl, you were hesitant to join with me, but now that you are here, we can be as one.” He ground his hips against hers, a suggestive leer marring his handsome features. “In all ways. I have thought of nothing else but you since you left so abruptly. We have an attraction you cannot deny.” He traced her nipple with a fingertip before pinching it hard.

  Panicked rage surged through her. She gripped his wrists and held his hands away from her body. “You’re drunk, Zakael. Don’t do something you might regret.”

  He breathed acrid fumes into her ear. “I already regret not bedding you sooner. I want you, Taryn, and you want me—that is why you are here.” With lightning speed, he reversed their grip, pinning her hands behind her back, holding her captive against the wall.

  A low growl came from Kaida as she crouched behind Zakael. Taryn cautioned her to stay, a dangerous plan forming in her mind. Sickened by his close proximity, it was difficult to swallow her disgust.

  Her heart thudded in her throat as she relaxed her body, sagging against him. Zakael released his grip, a warning in his cloudy eyes. With an inviting smile, she raked her nails over the soft velvet of his doublet, teasing him with little pinches that made him moan. When she reached the drawstring of his breeches, Zakael arched toward her with anticipation.

  “You know why I’m really here?” Taryn whispered.

  He nodded and she slid a hand beneath the fabric, running her fingers over the silky smoothness of his hardened cock. She pinched the tip and Zakael gasped, his eyes closed. Her fingers flinched when they met metal and then traced their way along the ring he wore around his balls and cock. Intrigued, she tickled her way under the ring, cupping his balls in her hand, massaging them until he swayed against her.

  “I’m here to learn how to control my power.” She gave his balls a sharp squeeze. Zakael’s eyes opened wide. Wild, rage-fueled excitement swirled in them. Taryn swallowed her disgust, choked back her fear. “Whatever other reason you think is a fabrication of your own imagination.”

  “You fucking bitch,” he spat and tried to step back, but she tightened her grip.

  “That’s what you want me to be. I’m your sister, Zakael, which makes this all the more disgusting.” She held her face a finger’s span from his. “I came here to learn Dark Shanti, same as my reasons for going to Gaarendahl. If you aren’t going to help me, then I have no use for you.”

  He sputtered curses at her until she placed a finger over his lips, silencing him.

  “I’m only going to say this once, so please listen well. You are to leave my rooms and never, ever enter them again. I will not now, nor will I ever, join with you. I do not want you.”

  She sent a small amount of her ShantiMari into his genitals with the subtle idea that if Zakael should ever think of her while having sex, he would immediately go limp and not get hard again.

  He glared at her, his eyes hard bits of concrete. “I could kill you for this.”

  She shrugged. “You probably could, but you won’t. You see, I still have your balls in my hand.” As a reminder, she massaged them, gagging at the lust that lit beneath the steel.

  Zakael was too easily controlled by his lusts. Something her sister probably knew all too well. Taryn gripped harder and he yelped, the lust turning to a kind of tempered mania.

  “And even when I don’t, you still won’t kill me.” She ran her tongue over his lips, pressing her breasts into his chest, rubbing her pelvis against his thigh.

  His cock jerked in response.

  “Will you?” She breathed the words into him.

  She quashed his balls and he sagged against her, defeated. “No.”

  “That’s more like it.” She released his testicles, pushing him off her. “I told you before—we need each other, Zakael. We should not be enemies.” She resisted the urge to wipe her hands and spit the taste of him from her tongue.

  For a moment, he stood like a man who’d lost everything. He slowly tied his breeches, making adjustments as he did. “I need no one.” Steel flecks of his ShantiMari sparked around him, and Taryn tensed. “Least of all, you.”

  “So be it, Zakael, but if you ever harm someone I love again, I will not show you mercy a second time.” It was a macabre echo of what she’d said to Marissa, and Taryn pitied her siblings.

  “Is that what you call this? Mercy?”

  His lightning quick movement surprised her as he covered her mouth with his. Without thinking, she brought her knee to his groin. Zakael doubled over and she slammed her elbow into his face. She stepped back, ignoring his desperate grabs, and swung her leg around, landing a roundhouse kick squarely on the side of his head. He crashed against the balcony, eyes wide with fear and awe. Taryn bounced on the balls of her feet, ready for more.

  Zakael staggered upright, blood oozing down his face. “You’ll regret this.” He spun on his heels, transforming into a great black bird and then flew off the balcony.

  Taryn and Kaida stared, dumbfounded, as he rose into the air and banked left before disappearing from view. “Damn, I wish I could do that. Don’t you?” she asked the grierbas.

  Kaida sat on her haunches. What do I know about the ways of flying things?

  Taryn scratched Kaida’s head and bent to kiss her nose. “I need to wash my hands and rinse my mouth. That was revolting.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Early the next morning, Taryn awoke to the scent of fresh rain and damp earth. Kaida stretched beside her and lazily thumped her tail. After Zakael had left the previous night, Taryn placed wards around all her rooms, deterring any curious courtiers from entering, as well as blocking her brother’s access, allowing only servants. None could enter her bedchamber, however, and she paid special attention to the balcony, setting alarms if Zakael should so much as set a talon on the stone banister.

  She lay on her back, tracing a design on the painted ceiling. Words wound their way around the garden scene and a familiar prickling slithered up her neck. Taryn stood on the bed to better see the painting. Runes, like the ones carved into the massive wooden door, dotted the landscape. Hidden in the detail of a red rose petal was the rune for death, on a leaf of a white rose, life. All throughout, the same runes were repeated. Life. Death. Life. Death.

  Her fingertips brushed against the plastered surface and her runes flared to life, lifting from her skin to hover above the painting. They rearranged themselves and Taryn gaped at what she saw illuminated above her. A message. A warning, really.

  There is no Light without Dark and no darkness without light. Life is death and death is life. Beware the one who walks between worlds.

  A knock on the outer door startled her and the runes swirled before settling onto her wrist. The ceiling returned to nothing more than a pretty painting. Except for one corner. Hidden in the darkness behind an image of a runyon tree, its spiked trunk pale in the morning light, caught between the grooves, Taryn saw the slightest movement. She squinted to better see and there, squatting in the corner, was a hooded man with skeletal features. His empty eye sockets stared back at her.

  A shudder rocked her from head to toes.

  In the other room, servants clanged noisily with her morning meal. She hopped from the bed and prodded a sleeping Kaida to wake up.

  Tell me, do you see a man in the corner of the ceiling? By the window with the runyon tree?

  Kaida stretched her paws and turned a golden gaze toward the ceiling, scanning it entirely before answering. I see no man, nor do I see a runyon tree.

  “I’m losing my mind,” Taryn said aloud and K
aida thumped her tail in answer.

  After their breakfast, Taryn explored the gardens, sorting through what she’d seen in the painting, and planning her next move.

  Her boots squelched on the damp ground as she trod through the freshly budding roses to the orchard. At the farthest point of the garden, a lone runyon tree huddled beside a cliff, its branches thick with emerald leaves. The ashen trunk curved slightly to the left, toward the sea. Thorns, some as thick as a man’s thumb, protruded from the trunk, from the ground to the tips of each branch.

  She approached the tree with caution, unease settling in her gut. Runyon were scarce in the east, but she remembered Hayden’s warning that the barbs held a deadly poison within their hardened shells.

  “A thing of beauty, is it not?”

  Taryn jumped at the sound of her father’s voice, having not heard him approach. “If you consider a tree that feeds off the flesh of man to be beautiful, then yes.”

  A twinkle lit his misty eyes. “Even death can be lovely, my daughter. But come, there is something I wish for you to see.” He held his hand out to her and she was reminded of Rykoto by the river.

  She ignored the offer and stepped beside him, wary. He wore a long coat over his dark tunic and walked with measured steps, his shoulders bent slightly, hands clasped behind his back. That morning, he looked more like a poet or philosopher than the dreaded Lord of the Dark.

  “Did you sleep well?” He glanced at the still dark sky. “I hope the storms did not keep you awake.”

  “Not at all. I slept right through them.” They walked side by side for a while, stopping every so often to smell a flower or for Valterys to point out improvements he had planned for the summer. Eventually, Valterys led them to an area off the path and close to the edge of the cliffs. Taryn stood on the precipice and gazed out at the darkened sea.

  “I’ve often wondered what lies to the west of here. I thought perhaps you could tell me what exists beyond our borders. That is why they call you Offlander, is it not?”

  A chill of warning crept down her back. “They call me many things for reasons I do not quite understand myself.” She checked that her thoughts were properly guarded. She knew exactly what lie to the west of his kingdom, but she’d not share that or any other information with him. Not yet.

  “I know what you mean.” A sad little smile lifted his lips. “I suppose they say all manner of things about me at the Light Court. It’s my wish we know each other better to perhaps make our own judgments.”

  “I would like that.” She glanced past the ocean to the dark clouds crouching over the water. “Why don’t you have a wall here or something to keep people from falling off?”

  He shrugged. “It’s been my experience that if someone is determined to slip, no barrier will stop them.”

  Her instinct was to step away from the edge, but she stood firm. “It would just detract from the view, anyway.”

  “Exactly. So, tell me, daughter, what have you been doing all these seasons?” He faced the water, but his gaze never left her.

  “I traveled with Brandt. I never knew who I was until we reached Talaith.”

  He penetrated her with a soul-gazing stare that said he didn’t believe a word she uttered. “So you’ve said.”

  “And you don’t sound convinced. Perhaps after you’ve had a chance to know me, you’ll see that I don’t lie all that well.”

  He laughed, a bitter sound against the wind that blew up from the sea. “More’s the pity for you, I’d say. Being honest will get you nothing but misery at the Light Court.”

  “You really don’t like my mother, do you?”

  “I love Lliandra more than should be possible.” A ferocity crossed his features and he turned his face to the ocean. “She tells the story of how I duped her, used her to create the Eirielle, but how do you know it was not she who misled me? I was, after all, the one who arrived to find my son dead.”

  “Are you suggesting Mother killed your child, my twin brother?”

  His shoulders twitched. “I only know that when I arrived, there was a dead baby where there should have been life.”

  Taryn’s gut roiled at the image. By the time Valterys arrived, Taryn was halfway to Mount Nadrene and he never knew. “How did you find out about me?”

  His eyes matched the stormy skies as they bore into her. “Does it really matter?”

  Taryn held his gaze, not backing down despite the intimidating tone. “To me, yes. Was it Marissa who told you?”

  A smile quirked at the corners of his mouth. “She never told me, no.”

  Taryn nodded. “She told Zakael. Yes, I suppose she would.” The air in her chest exhaled. Marissa had hated her from the moment she was born. Had harbored all those seasons a resentment so fierce it would cause her to one day betray Taryn in the most intimate and cruel manner she could think of.

  Valterys studied her a little too intently. “Now you know. What will you do?”

  His Dark power swirled around him, vast in its scope. She longed to touch it, to feel the immensity of his ShantiMari. A subtle thought teased her mind—he wanted her to lash out at Marissa. To test her strength against her sister in a form of combat where the victor would be decided by who survived. He kept his face placid—kind, even—but she wasn’t fooled. Beneath his demeanor dwelled the brutal truth of who her father really was.

  “Nothing. What’s done is done.” His power sparked with irritation, disappointment tinging the air. “She is my sister, and I will forgive her.”

  “You are a fool, young Taryn. Marissa would kill you if she had the power or the cunning.”

  “Is that what you’d like me to do? Kill my sister because she hates me?”

  “You should eliminate anyone who stands in the way of who you are to become.” His words held no malice, just a simple philosophy.

  “That’s not how I do things.”

  “More’s the pity for you.” Sadness lurked in his eyes mixed with loneliness, and behind that, anger.

  “Look, I’m sorry life didn’t work out the way you wanted, and I know you’re kind of pissed at my mother for hiding me, but I had nothing to do with any of that. All I know is that I’m here now and everyone tells me Aelinae is unbalanced. Without your help, it won’t make fuck all difference, will it? Because I’ll never become the Eirielle, and Aelinae will either cease to exist or Kaldaar will return and we can all kiss the Light and Dark goodbye. So, will you help me or not?”

  “Yes, you must master your Dark powers.” He muttered as if he hadn’t heard half of what she’d said. He ambled away from the cliff and strolled through the gardens, once again the wise philosopher, no longer the scorned lover of Lliandra.

  “I’m afraid that will have to wait a few days. Your unexpected arrival came at a bad time. I’ll be leaving for Danuri in less than a bell to conduct some business. When I return, we’ll see about your powers.”

  He patted her on the shoulder and gave her a warm smile. “We have some fine horses in the stable. Give your stallion a well-needed rest. I’m sure you’ll find our city just as enchanting as Talaith. When I return, I promise, we’ll see about bringing balance to Aelinae. Together.” He drifted away from her then, his back bent low to examine the flowers he passed.

  Feeling utterly dismissed and none too happy about it, Taryn stalked from the garden through the palace to her quarters. Kaida kept close to her side, almost tripping her several times. The grierbas’ behavior was odd, even for Kaida, and Taryn paid special heed to her friend. If something were amiss, she didn’t want to be caught unaware.

  After pacing from one room to the next in her vast suite, wearing a path in the thick carpets without so much as a servant disturbing her, she decided to explore the palace. If nothing else, Hayden had taught her that every royal residence had secrets worth finding.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Taryn’s first attempts to tour the castle were thwarted by an overly friendly seneschal. She’d taken no more than ten steps from her
room when he materialized from the shadows, scraping and bowing, asking after her comfort. She grumbled her displeasure until Kaida directed her attention to the man’s spectacles and stained fingertips. The sure signs of a man who spent too many hours poring over texts, making notes.

  “I’ve heard Caer Idris has a library to rival Talaith’s. I’d love to see it.”

  A derisive snort started in his throat and ended in a wheeze. “Hardly. Perhaps when the empress was in residence, but no longer. All the great books are locked in the Overlord’s rooms. I can show you the pitiful excuse we have for a library if you’d like.”

  Taryn pointed to his stained fingers. “Are those from the scrolls in my father’s rooms?”

  Taken aback, he surveyed his hands. “This? No. I’ve been copying recipes for the cook. Her eyes are getting bad and she needed fresh ink to better see.” He fidgeted with his glasses, taking them off to clean the lenses before replacing them on the bridge of his nose.

  She hoped he was better at transcription than he was at lying. “Well then, I guess it’s the lesser library for me.”

  The seneschal wasn’t kidding about it being pitiful. The space, more of a nook really, consisted of two overstuffed chairs and a single wall crammed with scrolls. No bound books graced the shelves and the scrolls were mainly accounts of the castle, with a few family histories written in the margins. Taryn read through all of them during the long days she waited for Valterys to return. Thankfully, Zakael went with him, leaving Taryn alone in the dark castle.

  Yet, she was never without company. Either the mousy seneschal or another servant would appear the moment she deviated from the common rooms. Always pleasant in manner, asking after her needs, directing her toward her room or the main hall. Her father must have made it clear to his staff she was not allowed to roam unattended in his absence.

  After another fruitless attempt to lose her minders, she sat slumped in a chair of the pitiful library. Rain ran in lazy swizzles down the window as Taryn gazed through the thick pane, seeing neither the rain nor dark clouds dancing on the horizon. On her lap lay a twice-read account of the battle between Rykoto and Daknys written by a chronicler of the Lord of the Dark, which meant it heavily favored Rykoto. According to the tale, Rykoto was subdued through Daknys’ trickery and then thrown into a dungeon of sorts beneath the Temple of Ardyn. His release could only come from the “Blood and Blade of the one who is and is not.”