Page 136 of Scourged
“I must join our host,” he said. “Stay here with the rest of the ladies of the court.”
Anniliese nodded, her mind still quiet.
As her father moved off, following the procession of the other Onitan Royal lords-–Lords Beauchamp, Campion, Laurent, and Cordaro—Lady Beauchamp filled the gap Anniliese’s father had left by her side.
“I heard we are in for a real treat tonight, my dear. Are you not excited?”
“Yes,” Anniliese murmured, still playing with her necklace. “Very excited.”
Lady Beauchamp turned away with an empty smile on her face. The other ladies of the court wore similar expressions, all pretty pets to watch their husbands and fathers and uncles convince each other of the superior power they held.
A few other lesser lords and their families were also in attendance—Lord Donnet, of Andburgh, the most vocal of them. A smile spread wide across his bullish face, and he had a feverish gleam in his eyes.
“You are all going to love this,” he said, voice loud as always, carrying easily to her place on the risers. “I haven’t seen it yet, of course, but Lord Shawth informed me of what to expect last night over glasses of his finest whiskey. That little whore queen will never see our next move coming.”
Anniliese’s attention wandered back to the Royals now gathered on the dais. They had each taken their seats beside Shawth, expressions ranging from barely concealed nervousness, to excitement, to the stoic coldness of Lord Laurent.
That hardly meant anything, though. That was the only expression the Lord of Antoris seemed to wear these days. Despite the fire magic Anniliese knew he carried in his veins, magic he rarely ever used, he was all but made of ice and stone.
“My esteemed guests.” Lord Shawth’s voice boomed across the gardens, and the chatter and whispers tinkling around Anniliese in the risers faded away. The Lord of Khento rose from his mock throne, tugging on the buttons of his embroidered red and black cloak, chest puffed out and a grin plastered across his face. He took a few steps forward, gaze fixed across the gardens, on the doors leading into his castle. He halted on the top dais step before turning to the risers, still wearing that foxlike smile.
“My guests,” he repeated. “I thank you all for the honor of joining me this evening. Tonight, we shall usher in a new age of Onita, one in which those who are best suited to power will freely wield it.”
Cheers echoed around the risers. Anniliese kept her hands folded in front of her, expression blank and empty. The perfect porcelain doll as the men around her celebrated.
“Too long we have suffered beneath the control of a goddess who never paid us any heed. When was the last time any of you asked Qhohena for a favor, and she answered your prayer?” Mumbles of disgust answered Shawth.
“I was robbed several months ago,” Lord Donnet grumbled, “and despite all my prayers and offerings, the culprit has still not been brought to justice.”
“I say,” continued Lord Shawth, “it is time for a change. Why should the gods decide our fate? And better yet, why should we hand our loyalty to a deity who does not deserve it?” He lifted his hands up, as if in exaltation. “No more! Qhohena is not the only god in this world. It is time we, as the leaders of our great nation, choose a new patron.” Lord Shawth turned his hands to the castle doors across the gardens, gesturing feverishly.
“And I am not alone in this thought! High Priestess Ksee, if you would join us, please.”
Anniliese whirled, along with the rest of the gathered court, as the castle doors swung open.
A figure strode into the gardens, clothed not in the pale gold robes Anniliese expected but in a gown of brilliant white. The material extended all the way to the figure’s wrists, the high neckline wrapping around the column of her throat, the train spreading behind her across the path. Even her head was hooded, hiding her features, a demure picture of purity and submissiveness. Behind her, six other women followed, all dressed the same, all subdued and obedient.
Anniliese couldn’t help her gaping mouth as she watched High Priestess Ksee walk the length of the gardens before dropping to her knees, head bowed. Her priestesses followed her lead, a pretty, white picture as they knelt before the Royals.
“We are honored to join you on this marvelous day, My Lords.” Ksee’s voice was the same—still grating, still too nasally—despite the change in her appearance. “We pray the God of the Stars accepts our plea and bestows his favor to us all.”
Anniliese’s skin prickled.God of the Stars?Did Ksee mean Priam?
“Has our Lord Priam spoken to you of late, High Priestess?”
Well, that answered Anniliese’s question.
“Yes, My Lord.” Ksee lifted her head, and the change in angle cast a bit of her face in the sunlight. She looked about the same, but there was something muted about her. Something slightly off about the pallor of her skin.
“The great god Priam speaks to me in my dreams. He tells me he is ashamed of his Consort, of Qhohena, to whom I previously dedicated my life. She has abandoned him, as she has abandoned us, and has forged her own path away from that of righteousness and good. She has even pulled her cursed sister,the wicked goddess of death, from the depths of Enfara itself and now rules in the heavens with Zadione by her side.”
Shocked whispers and outraged shouts echoed through the gardens. Anniliese stilled, her blood rushing cold.
Tales of the goddess of death were whispered to all Onitan children. They were warned to hide all thoughts of the goddess, to ignore her existence, lest she learn of theirs.
Lest she use her dark powers of pain and death to snatch them from their beds and drag them down to join her in the cursed pit of the gods which she’d made both her prison and her sanctuary.
“I know, I know, my people.” Ksee’s voice rang out louder as she rose, turning to face the gathered crowd. The slight wrinkles in her face were more pronounced, her pale skin washed of color in the setting sun. The shouts died down with the priestess’s movement; the crowd’s attention was ensnared, fear thick in the air.