Willing sacrifice, p.23
Willing Sacrifice, page 23
La’tiera’s stomach grumbled. She thought of saying something about breakfast first but didn’t, having a feeling it would fall on deaf ears today.
Mela made her clean herself as thoroughly if not more so than the day before. Pruned, she was then made to lie down, and Mela massaged her with scents and oils on every part of her body. She washed her hair then washed it again, lighter oils and rosewater combed through it in between. Waiting for it to partially dry, Mela turned her attentions to La’tiera’s body again, massaging her arms and legs, applying more scents or oils in places that had yet to meet her specifications.
Once all that was done, Mela whisked her away to the bedroom and, giving her only a thin silk shift to wear, sat her down before the mirrored vanity and began working on her hair. She rolled it, piled it, pinned it, as if she were making a sculpture whose final shape only she could see.
La’tiera could see, reflected in the mirror, the gown she would later wear, laid out on the bed behind her. It was more lavish than anything she’d ever had before. Rubies, emeralds, amethysts, opals were sewn into the soft fabric in a cascade of almost dizzying patterns—expensive wrapping for the gift that would appease the beast.
She felt a pang at the thought. In a matter of hours, her time here would truly be over.
“Mela.” She tore her gaze away from the dress and studied the reflection of her keeper in the mirror. “Will you miss me once I’m gone?”
The older woman slipped a jeweled pin into La’tiera’s hair. “Of course, I will, milady.”
La’tiera’s heart gave a lurch as a dim reddish glow appeared momentarily around the woman’s head.
“A–Aside from marking me as the sacrifice and showing me the dreams of the future, does the Eye have other powers?”
Mela frowned. “No, that’s all it does. Why all the questions? None of this will matter to you anymore very soon.”
Her heart lurched again, this time followed by feelings of pain. She averted her gaze, not wanting to look at her lifelong companion and her red aura. She should ask her, ask her straight out about the sacrifice, but she was afraid—afraid the aura would show around her once again.
La’tiera closed her eyes tight, begging the tears she could feel gathering not to come. That the aura would be there, that the two most important people in the world to her could have been lying to her all this time—just thinking of the possibility made her feel as if she’d been stabbed. It would make Dal’s betrayal seem like nothing in comparison. It just couldn’t be true. It couldn’t!
“Milady, what’s the matter?”
She forced herself to straighten and open her eyes, blinking back the still threatening tears. She made herself lie.
“Nothing. I–I was just thinking about how much I would miss you and my uncle once I ascend.”
Then the tears did fall, as a gasp escaped her lips. For there, in the mirror, on her own reflection, she saw a red aura prominently circling her own head.
CHAPTER 36
“Please, milady, you must stop this!” Mela stood flustered before her, dabbing at her face with a cloth while simultaneously trying to keep all the curlers and pins in place.
La’tiera tried everything to end her tears. Sobs were already on the way, and she knew if she went that far, nothing would prevent her from wailing in her misery.
It couldn’t be right. Something else had to have gone wrong. They couldn’t have been lying to her all this time. It wasn’t possible! None of it made sense. She had to be misinterpreting something.
“We know you will miss us, milady. And it is so sweet of you to think of us. But right now is not the time. Now you must be strong.”
Strong, yes, she needed to be strong. If she only had an idea about what she should do.
“Perhaps some food and drink would make you feel better? I thought it’d be best if you fasted, but perhaps a little something would cause no harm.”
La’tiera nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She grabbed on to Mela’s solution, hoping it would get the older woman out of there and give her a few precious minutes alone to think and pull herself together.
“Stay right there. I’ll get something and be right back.” She placed a handkerchief in La’tiera’s hands, looking doubtful.
“I’ll be fine.” She made a show of using the cloth on her face. “Something to eat sounds very nice.”
“Allright. It’ll take but a moment.”
As soon as Mela left, La’tiera felt the tears start again. She bit her lip hard, willing herself to stop. Half of her wanted to stand up and run ranting and raving around the room, screaming at the injustice, the betrayal. Another part of her wanted to just give in and fall to the floor to curl up in a ball, to escape all this doubt and uncertainty.
She did neither. Instead, she sat taking deep, shuddering breaths.
She’d been so certain for so long. Then, the moment Aya and then Dal entered her life, everything was turned upside down. But if what she feared was true, why, why would they do it? It made no sense! Why would anyone want to allow the demons free rein in their world? It was madness!
She didn’t know who or what to believe anymore.
She almost jumped from her chair as a large boom! came from outside. Disregarding Mela’s instructions, she went to the window and reopened the shutters.
The garden looked normal, so she looked toward the outer wall. She saw more men stationed there than ever before.
The booming sounded again, and several of the men ran in the direction of the gate. Faint cries were carried on the wind, and seemed full of fear and anger. Why?
“Milady!”
La’tiera closed the shutter before turning around, already sure of the disapproving look she would find on Mela’s face. She wasn’t disappointed.
“What’s happening? What is that sound?”
The older woman sent a dark glare at the window before setting the tray she was carrying down.
“I’m sure it’s being dealt with. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“That’s not what I asked!” She shocked herself with her anger as much if not more than her keeper.
“You truly are distraught today, milady.” Her voice was ice. “If you must know, there are men at the gate. Men who want to stop the ceremony. They will not make it through in time, however, so there’s nothing to worry about. Though we should not dawdle. There’s still much left to be done. Come, eat, so we may continue.”
La’tiera hesitated for a moment then did as she’d been bid. Mela served her and watched her eat.
Was Rostocha one of those outside? What of Kyr and Mishal? Was this the place they would receive their wounds, the ones she’d seen in her dream? Or would those come later? And what would happen once they broke through the gate, if the ritual was over? Wouldn’t they be angry?
“Mela, if they’re too late, won’t you and the viscount be in danger?”
“Full of questions today, aren’t we?” Mela sent her a sidelong glance. “The viscount has taken all of this into account. We will not be harmed in any way.” She gave a smug smile.
La’tiera looked away, sure there was something unpleasant behind it. But what could she do? How could she make sure? A sense of dread settled about her shoulders, heavier than the dress she would eventually wear.
The dishes were soon removed, and La’tiera was herded back to the dressing table. She couldn’t look in the mirror, not wanting to see anything the Eye would care to show her. She wanted to believe, to stay strong. Never did the heroes have doubts, never were they unsure of the truth. She had no proof, only suspicions. Yes, they may have lied to her, but the lies could have been meant to shelter her, to protect her from things she couldn’t change. Yet…
She felt a deep need to talk to Dal. She couldn’t understand why him, of all people, but it didn’t change her feelings. He felt about his cause as deeply as she felt about hers, but he showed no doubts, no hesitation.
Mela fussed with her hair, then her hands, feet, the color on her face. For once, La’tiera had become the canvas, and she would be the woman’s greatest masterpiece. The bejeweled dress was as heavy as it looked. And though she thought the colors clashed, still she was to wear the necklace. She felt trapped, controlled, maneuvered, lost—and she had no idea how to make it better. The Eye seemed to almost burn beneath its metal prison.
Restless, she walked toward the window, the long train trailing behind her.
“Milady, it truly would be best if you left them closed.”
Acting as if she hadn’t heard, La’tiera opened the shutters wide. She could not see the setting sun, but did see the reaching fingers of darkness spreading up into the sky—the barest hint of the Herald could be seen way up above. The sound she’d heard earlier rang out once again, though it was more muted than before. The garden was quiet, empty, as if it had already forgotten all about her. Sadness settled over her as once more she realized she would never get to say goodbye to it, never get to walk again within its comforting embrace.
A soft knock at the door dragged her attention away from her melancholy thoughts. Mela moved to answer it. The viscount stepped into the room, dressed in startling finery. A necklace showing his position hung from his neck, a silver circlet was on his head. His long cloak was bordered with speckled fur, bright reds and blues for his hose and doublet, ruffles everywhere.
La’tiera had never seen him attired in this manner. The style seemed almost comical on his thin, stooped form—a total deviation from his usual warm robes and long jackets.
A sheen of excitement brightened his wrinkled face.
“La’tiera, you look wonderful. They will be so pleased.” His smile brightened the room as she wondered why demons would care. He sent a look in Mela’s direction. “Are we ready, then?”
“Uncle…”
“Yes, my dear?”
How could she ask him? How could she express what she felt? This man had protected her, raised her, given her every comfort. And she was afraid—afraid as she had been of nothing her entire life.
“It’s nothing.”
He came up close, supporting himself heavily on his cane. “Nervous? You shouldn’t be. You’ve prepared yourself for this moment your entire life. You have nothing to worry about. You will not fail us.” He took her arm. His touch felt very warm—too warm. “Shall we?”
She nodded slowly, not looking at him, feeling hot and cold at the same time. Mela gathered her train and followed them out of the room.
Their footsteps rang in the empty hallway, and La’tiera was almost overcome with the sudden urge to tear away from them, to run from all of this—from the questions, her duty, everything. But she didn’t give in to it. She would see this through to the end one way or another.
They came to the locked gate, and Mela opened it for them. The area was deserted. It was as if only the three of them existed.
Once on the main floor, they took an unassuming stairwell down, different from the one they’d taken coming back from the dungeon. At the bottom, the stairs opened into a stone room with a high ceiling. In the center, a raised dais took prominence. The walls were draped at equal intervals with tapestries depicting the viscount’s colors and family crest. Several large cabinets hugged one corner, their doors closed and locked, hiding whatever was contained within.
As her uncle steered her toward the dais, La’tiera saw that Dal and his guard were already there. Dal had been cleaned up, his face looking less swollen though the coloration was more ghastly. His torn clothes had been replaced with black hose, shirt, an overcoat—an utter contrast to her own bright colors.
At the moment, he was on his knees on the hard floor, his hands tied behind his back and a gag in place. The moment he saw her he tried to regain his feet but was forcibly held down by the guard’s meaty hand. Their eyes met, and again La’tiera was struck by his look of abject misery.
For the first time, she understood his despair. He knew he was right, just as she’d thought she’d been. And he was going to be forced to watch her die, giving the world over to slaughter and the reign of demonkind, and there was nothing he could do about it.
She almost stumbled on the stairs of the dais. What could she do? How could she stop it? She had no idea.
She glanced down at the floor of the dais, as if it might provide some answers. Unlike the rest of the room, the floor was carved with symbols filled with silver, gold and other precious metals. They blurred for a moment in her vision as the titles of the books had done, but then returned to normal, their meaning unread. She felt power emanating from the circle; then it, too, was gone. The necklace was doing its job only too well.
She placed her gloved hand between the medallion and the Eye.
“Uncle, is having him like that really necessary?” She threw another glance in Dal’s direction as she positioned herself to keep him in view.
“His misdirected beliefs are too strong. If he had the means to interfere, he would. I can’t risk that.” He threw a half-smile in the young acrobat’s direction.
Dal never noticed it, his eyes locked on her.
“Mela, the cup and vial if you please.” Tih’ouren removed a key from a pocket and handed it to her. She half-bowed as she took it then hurried over to the largest of the cabinets in the back.
“Uncle, how will they know to open the portal here?”
“They can sense the Eye. They always know where it is. It can’t be hidden from them. As soon as the sun has hidden behind the horizon, they will come.”
She couldn’t miss the rising note of excitement in his usually reserved voice.
Mela returned, holding a jeweled cup and a small vial. Tih’ouren took them from her. He tucked the vial in his belt then turned to face La’tiera fully.
“Here, drink this.”
She took the offered cup, staring at the reddish liquid within. From the corner of her eye, she saw Dal shaking his head fervently until the guard smacked him on the side of it to make him stop.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Something to calm your nerves. To make the experience less unpleasant.”
She slowly brought the cup to her lips then glanced at Dal and saw him pleading at her with his eyes not to drink it. What did he think was in the cup? What did he suspect her uncle of doing? She lowered it.
“I think I’d rather not have it, if it’s all right.”
She tried to give it back and saw a flash of annoyance cloud Mela’s face, though it was quickly hidden.
“You should do as the viscount says. It’s for your own good.”
A very faint glimmer rose around her head.
“You know from your nightmares how frightening the demons can be, how they can cause the bravest man to quiver,” Tih’ouren told her. “This will dull your senses so such things won’t affect you. Why put yourself through that if you don’t have to?”
His aged hand touched hers and pushed the cup gently back toward her lips.
Dull her senses? Slow her mind? Was it truly for her benefit…or could it be so she wouldn’t think, wouldn’t fight, wouldn’t stop the demon from taking her. It was tempting. Though she knew she had to stop them somehow, it would be so much easier just to give in. But she couldn’t—she wouldn’t.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. They might get angry if you try to spare me. I can’t take that risk.” When did she become so good at lying? Why had she been driven to this?
Several emotions flickered over the viscount’s face, but she couldn’t identify them. He took the cup back.
“As you wish.”
Mela made no effort to disguise her displeasure but said nothing. La’tiera felt her chest tighten, knowing it probably had nothing to do with the fact she would not be spared any pain.
“I will leave it here, in case you change your mind.” Tih’ouren set the cup at the edge of the platform. He then leaned on his cane as he went to stand close to Dal and his guard, Mela following closely behind him.
Left alone, La’tiera felt strangely exposed. Time went on with agonizing slowness. Her dress and medallion weighed her down. Her back stiffened as the air before her suddenly…changed. She could almost feel the growing waves of anticipation coming from those watching.
La’tiera’s heart sped up, goose bumps rising all over her body.
The air before her shimmered, as if she were outside during the hottest part of the day. Through this strange veil, she saw the viscount take a step forward.
It was time. The moment of truth was finally upon her, and she still had no idea what to do.
“La’tiera, there is still time for you to drink the contents of the cup.”
His misplaced insistence made her suddenly sure it was vital she not drink it. But what was she supposed to do?
A rift appeared in the shimmering air; a foul stench drifted in from the other side. She took a step back. The shimmering wall moved with her.
The tear grew wider. Air passed in and out of the opening like breathing, one moment blowing at her, the next trying to drag her in. Beyond the tear, she saw Dal trying to stand against the guard’s grip.
The tear opened further, and a long hairy leg ending in a foot with six scaly toes stepped through. A wave of fear almost drove her to her knees. She held on, knowing the fear wasn’t truly her own and only too aware from her nightmares that there would be nowhere she could run that they could not find her.
“Dearest, spare yourself. Drink.”
A long arm with claws the size of knives pushed through the opening. The breathlike wind increased in intensity.
Mela yelled at her across the distance, her eyes lit with strange glee. “Drink it! Drink it and embrace what you were raised to do!”
The demon’s body came into view, pushing the tear wider, a massive torso with hair sprouting from every inch, and long enough to reach the floor. Three legs and four arms protruded without symmetry from that body; the creature’s face almost touched the ground from the end of a long neck. It was like a puzzle someone had put together wrong.
