Rage

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Briar

R eluctantly, we left the chamber and followed our captor to another group of women dressed in scarlet ceremonial robes. They kept their eyes pointed down as Richard made his commands: strip us, bathe us, feed us, and clothe us for the sacrificial rite.

They left us in a bathing chamber that acted as a prison to the twenty or so women there. I didn’t want to think about the implications of that, of what purpose men like Richard would keep a group of cowed women in a bathing room for.

Once the door slammed shut and the click of a formidable-sounding lock clanked, the strangers swarmed us like bees to honey.

Cassandre hid behind me despite the fact that she neared half a head taller. Her pale blonde tresses fell all the way to her hips in soft, undulating waves. Her fingertips curled into the bustle of my skirt as she shrank herself from the ghost-like women. I merely stood still and let the women start unfastening the buttons of my bodice and pluck the hair pins out of my hair.

Diana was similarly cooperative, her ebony skin ashen as she looked through cracked spectacles at nothing in particular. I couldn’t tell if she was deep in thought or if she had forced her awareness out of her body.

“This is good,” Lily, the orphaned girl, said as she tore off her threadbare clothes and scratched a dirty hand through her mouse-colored locks. “Eating will help us replenish our strength. There’s a lot of us here. We could overpower them.”

Freya was also undressing herself, waving off the hovering hands of the other captives. “I just desperately want a bath. I haven’t had one in weeks.” She scooped her oily, raven hair over a bronze colored shoulder, her body already bare despite only removing one garment.

My stomach twisted. I always heard the men at the tables talking baudily about Vidalgan dress, that they basically walked around in their underthings and no wonder they were so promiscuous. Ignoring the fact, of course, that Vidalgo was right on the equator and hotter than the lakes of hell.

“I don’t know if these girls are ready to fight,” Bella said warily as she grasped a twiggy wrist belonging to one of them. “They’re covered in bruises. They seem catatonic.”

The woman’s arm she held shook her head and opened her mouth wide. Bella gasped sharply, but I didn’t get to find out why until I heard a scuffle in the corner of the room.

“Back the fuck off ,” Atreya screamed as four women coralled her like a wild mare. “I’m not letting you fuckers touch me.”

A forelock of her copper-gold hair fell in front of her face, the rest of her hair bound in a series of bejeweled braids that I was sure were much tidier before our captivity. Priestesses of Atreya wore their braids as a sign of devotion to their goddess.

“Atreya, relax,” I said.

“Fuck you!” she screeched. “I’m not getting sacrificed to some fucked up god of men getting their cocks wet .”

Cassandre whimpered behind me.

“Atreya, it’s going to be okay,” I said. “They’re probably not going to kill us. Look at all the girls here. If we survive, we can find a way to get out.”

“Don’t be dense, ” Atreya said. “What do you think they’ll be sacrificing if it isn’t our lives?”

“I know. More than you realize, Atreya,” I said.

Her hard exterior cracked and and tears spilled out of her eyes, carving paths in the dirt on her cheeks, revealing amber freckles. “You don’t understand,” she wept. “My goddess will forsake me.”

“No one is forsaking anyone,” I snapped, my words echoing off the walls. “We are going to fight and we are going to get the fuck out of here.”

Atreya’s eyes blinked more tears out, but she wiped them quickly away with her linen sleeve. “Alright,” she said. I could tell she only wanted to believe me.

In truth I didn’t know how we were going to accomplish that.

“Bella, you alright?” I asked as she tied her long brown hair into a knot at the back of her head. The movement was practiced, like she did it every day.

She was opening the mouths of all the servant girls, one by one. A fresher one–one with a little more meat on her bones, quietly cried as Bella cupped her face with maternal care. “All of these girls have had their tongues cut out.”

“What?”

Marguerite spoke for the first time since the stone door opened. Her voice sounded reedy and absent as she stepped down into the water. “Pa always did say women were better seen and not heard.”

Diana sniffled and the woman helping her brushed away her tears with such tenderness that my own throat tightened. Diana stood fully nude, but enveloped the woman in a tight embrace anyway.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Don’t you dare apologize.”

I growled it with such ferocity that I didn’t at first realize that it had come out of me until the room went quiet and everyone looked at me.

I knew I should be frightened. I knew I should be disconsolate. Instead, black, depthless, molten rage consumed me, body and soul .

Are you ready to become?

No longer would I apologize for the cruelty of men. I tired of tutting cautionary tales of girls who showed too much skin, or gave kisses too generously. I tired of laws that left sweet girls like Cassandre at the mercy of men like her brother because she couldn’t simply inherit her father’s wealth herself.

They stole your shiny Penny, but first they shattered her, didn’t they, sweet carver?

The memory of Penny’s broken body and glassy eyes flashed in my mind. Her sweetheart’s relieved tears as he hugged his solicitor when the judge let him go home after he killed her and left her to rot in an alley. Her pretty white dress with the eyelet lace…it soaked up the piss in the alley. Blood and skin stuck under her nails. She’d fought. She’d cried. And he’d killed her anyway.

I was a coin without a face. Unfinished and stripped of all worth. But I didn’t do that to myself.

I looked around the room and saw women of every color and background. Atreya’s anger and abrasive nature couldn’t protect her, nor could Marguerite’s obedient gentleness.

Diana’s illustrious writing career didn’t save her, even though she spent most of her time at home. Bella, all altruism and hard work–the smartest of all of us probably, and she’d still been had.

Cassandre’s wealth didn’t save her. Lily’s poverty didn’t either.

And me? I hunted these men. I carved them up like roasted pheasants. I rejoiced in their terror and danced on their graves. I didn’t fear them. They feared me .

And yet here I, too, had been captured.

They have forgotten that they spring from the very well they are poisoning.

A pawn. A sacrifice. A possession .

That is what they think, isn’t it?

Yes. Thought that. But I would prove them wrong.

For that is Her dominion. Retribution, wrath.

Are you ready to become?