Blood of the Goddess Book I: The Locust King
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Locusts at the Gate Chapter 2: A New Name Chapter 3: The Capital Prepares Chapter 4: The Princess is Dead, Long Live the Princess Chapter 5: Outside the Gates Chapter 6: Inside the Black Tent Chapter 7: Surrender at the Temple Chapter 8: The Cult of the Locust Chapter 9: The Locust's Tenets of Faith Chapter 10: Mourners on the Cliff Chapter 11: The Eye of Betrayal Chapter 12: The Dead King's Bedchamber Chapter 13: The Arms of the Goddess Chapter 14: Zayaan of the Narim Chapter 15: The Eyes of the Priestess Chapter 16: A More Permanent Disguise Chapter 17: Tribute Chapter 18: Sacrifice of the New Moon Chapter 19: The Lost Bird Chapter 20: Manah and the Priestess Chapter 21: Desert Creatures Chapter 22: Become the Swarm Chapter 23 The Price of Betrayal Chapter 24: Life Under the Locust Chapter 25: Wild Rose Chapter 26: The Lady Wren Chapter 27: Thought and Desire Chapter 28: The Lady's Captivity Chapter 29: The Wine Maiden Chapter 30: End of Childhood Chapter 31: The Children of Aisha Chapter 32: The Forest Runner Chapter 33: Three Sisters Chapter 34: The Hunt Chapter 35: Bones in the Forest Chapter 36: Lullaby Chapter 37: The Hunter's Horn Chapter 38: Ways Between Ways Chapter 39: Morning Star Chapter 40: A Prophecy for Baraz Chapter 41: Equinox Fires Chapter 42: The Lord Prince Takri Chapter 43: Evening Star Sets Chapter 44: Chaos in the Courtyard Chapter 45: Dasha Chapter 46: Memories Chapter 47: The Body Slave Chapter 48: Caged Beasts Chapter 49: Message from the Capital Chapter 50: Heresiarch Chapter 51: The Color of Blood Chapter 52: Winter Winds Chapter 53: The Bookmaker's Closet Chapter 54: Wrapped in Dignity and Beauty Chapter 55: Vessel of the Goddess Chapter 56: Cracks in the Walls Chapter 57: Two Brothers Chapter 58: The Court of Women Chapter 59: Favored of the King Chapter 60: The Sweetest Fruit Chapter 61: Daughter of the Temple Chapter 62: A Nation of Bastards Chapter 63: The Lute Player Chapter 64: Aisha's Prayer Chapter 65: Promises Chapter 66: Lives Lost Chapter 67: The Tea Maker Chapter 68: Object of DesireChapter 55: Vessel of the Goddess
Nasreen clothed herself in translucent white silk embroidered in golden thread. Around her neck she wore a golden necklace set with lapis lazuli. Golden chains with clusters of tinkling bells adorned her wrists and ankles, causing her every movement to become musical.
"I believe this scent will serve you best, Nasreen." The procuress presented a small alabaster bottle carved with a wild mountain rose. "Oil, scented with the wild roses which grow among the rocks on the mountain."
Nasreen nodded her agreement as the procuress anointed her head, pronouncing a blessing as she did.
"Lady, Mother, Queen of Heaven, Queen of Earth, She Who is called Beautiful, Holy, Beloved. I give to your hands your daughter, Nasreen, a wild rose stained in the blood of captivity. May your mantle cover her in beauty. May her words intoxicate like sweet wine. May her form incite desire. May her beauty inspire love. Let her know only the pleasure of joining, and never the pain." Her voice shook. "And if her beauty brings her death, gather her to your holy breast."
Nasreen held the older woman's hand, while they sat in silence for a moment.
"Come. We are taking too long," said the procuress, wiping tears from her eyes. "You must go. There are furs here, and boots to cover your feet. Remain veiled until you are told otherwise. Keep your eyes downcast. Go with Her blessing upon you. I pray She is listening."
Nasreen draped the red veil over her face and wrapped herself in the warm furs, becoming faceless and formless before facing the God Among Men and his Lord Prince Takri. Back in the Room of Choosing, she lifted the veil one final time for the officer to confirm her identity before taking her into his charge.
Outside the walls of the temple for the first time since the fall of Adyll, Nasreen again recited her morning prayer. In the joining we are made one. In the joining we are made whole. As I serve, may my garden become filled with dew, welcoming those who would know the glory that is loving The Lady.
Takri awoke in his room after what seemed like days. He had awakened twice to eat and drink water, only to fall asleep again under the watchful eye of Yelena. He rubbed the sleep and nightmares from his eyes and stretched, still groggy from exhaustion.
"Yelena, how long have I been sleeping?" asked Takri.
"This is the third day, my lord and prince," she replied. "Do you need food? I can go to the kitchen for meat and bread if you desire."
"No. Thank you, Yelena." He sat up and suddenly smelled himself. A deep acrid odor of fear and sweat and smoke and stale wine. He tried to remember the last time he had bathed. Perhaps the day before the banquet where he first met Yelena? "I need to bathe. How far are the baths?"
"I will send for water and a basin to be brought here for your use," said Yelena. "As well as food. You have not eaten enough to sustain you even when sleeping. You cannot allow yourself to become weak."
Takri nodded. It was a welcome change to have someone else caring for his needs after months of trying to care for everyone around him.
"There are royal baths available to you, but in your state it would be best if you bathed here alone," said Yelena. "Unless you would like to share your bath with the strigoi-viu?"
"You are wise beyond your years. Thank you, Yelena."
"It benefits me to keep you alive and well, my Lord and Prince," she said, bobbing her head momentarily before lowering her veil and leaving him alone in the room.
Takri looked around the room, finally awake enough to take in his surroundings. This was nothing like any lodging he experienced before. The Narim spent their nights in caves or in tents, sleeping on thick mats they could quickly store away for travel. In the camp, he slept on a narrow dust covered cot. Even the prince’s quarters in the palace had been a communal room more like a barracks than a bedchamber. Now, the sheets he lay on felt softer than any cloth he had ever touched. Carved wooden pillars on each corner of the bed held up thick curtains, open on the side of the bed which faced the fireplace. He got up to stretch his legs and paced around the room, examining the contents. The only window was opposite the fireplace, covered with an opaque material that let in light. It was cold to the touch, made from a thin slice of the same stone that covered the floor of the temple's sanctuary. A door next to the fireplace opened into a smaller room that appeared to be for storing clothes. A thin straw mattress and blanket lay against the wall, along with a few articles of women's clothing including the compulsory veil worn by servant women. This was where Yelena slept.
Yelena returned carrying a plate of cold sliced venison, an apple, and loaf of brown bread. As soon as he saw the plate, his stomach rumbled. Yelena had been right, he was ravenous.
While he broke his fast, two servants came in holding between them a large wooden tub. By the time Takri finished his quick meal, more servants had come and gone, filling the tub with steaming water carried from the royal baths. Once they were gone, Yelena closed and locked the door behind them.
"My lord and prince, get in the bath before the water cools. I can bathe you if you wish," said Yelena as she strewed herbs into the water.
"No, Yelena. I can wash myself," said Takri. "I would prefer to bathe in private."
"Of course, my lord and prince. I will be in the next room, awaiting your summons," said Yelena, lighting a small taper before disappearing behind the door next to the fireplace.
Takri sunk into the water, letting the heat seep into his stiff muscles, feeling the sting of forgotten scratches and wounds from the hunt in the aspen forest. The water smelled of rose petals and chamomile. He let his mind drift back to his time with his own wild rose. Nasreen. Vessel of the Goddess Aaysha. Beautiful, warm, softer than flower petals and sweeter than spring.
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