The Order of the Black Tapestry

CHAPTER ONE

Every nine years it happened. They came. Emissaries of the Sovereigns.

Watching dozens of them ride toward the settlement—some on horseback, some driving horse-drawn wagons—I remembered the last time they’d come.

At twelve, I’d been too young to count as a possible sacrifice to the Sovereigns.

Back then, more than a little terrified, I’d stood amidst the large crowd surrounding the town square, keeping a distance from the ‘offerings.’

Seven young men.

Seven young women.

Just as it always was.

This time round, I wasn’t swallowed up in the safety of the crowd. I stood shoulder to shoulder with the other offerings—my mouth dry, my heart racing, my stomach all tied up in elaborate knots.

A few sniffles and sobs rippled through the crowd. So much emotion clogged the air. Despair. Helplessness. Anger. Spite.

No one spoke up, though. It would be senseless. Because any who fled, protested, or tried fighting the emissaries only ever met a chillingly swift execution.

Things weren’t always like this. Before the primordial gods returned to their own realm centuries ago, they had lived in peace with mortals; treated us with respect and courtesy; educated and protected us. We, in turn, had worshipped and served them.

The half-bloods and their descendants, however?

They weren’t necessarily cruel to us, they just massively overlooked us.

We were, to them, a lesser species. Useful in our way, but interchangeable.

Like a colony of ants. And so also expendable.

Hence why the Sovereigns who reigned supreme over Cathadonya’s four dominions in the gods’ steed felt no guilt at using us as pawns in their power games.

The teenager beside me shifted from foot to foot. “Anara, you might want to edge away from me a little because I think I’m going to be sick,” he muttered.

I’d understand if Kemp did. My own stomach had dropped when, just half an hour ago, the Baron of our settlement had blindly plucked a fourteenth tuft of paper out of a bowl …

and read aloud my name. Disbelief had smacked into me first. Then rage.

Panic. Devastation. Resentment. The emotions still hissed and snapped in my belly like flames.

The reactions of the other selected humans had been mixed. Some had wept. Some had blanched. Some had fallen into a state of shock. None of the three godkin-offerings were anxious since, for them, there would be certain perks to this scenario.

Remus had only allowed us to say quick goodbyes to our loved ones before ordering us out to wait in the middle of the town square for the emissaries to arrive.

And so there we stood.

The aforementioned emissaries were clad in clothes as black as their magnificent steeds’ shiny coat.

I knew that each item of clothing would have a red shield sown into them.

On said shield would be a sword that had a twine of thread curled around it—an insignia that proclaimed they belonged to the Order of the Black Tapestry.

The purpose of the deadly and dangerous Order was simple: To protect not only the Sovereigns but the Isle of Deimos on which they lived.

“Aegeas isn’t bothering to hide how much he begrudges having to go along with this,” Kemp noted.

Glancing at the half-blood who governed all of Phoenixia, I noticed that his face was indeed a mask of resentment as he played escort for the emissaries.

“I’d imagine it bugs all the Archdukes that they have to provide such proof of loyalty.

” Particularly since it was also a punishment for how they had tried rebelling against the Sovereigns a century ago.

Stood on Kemp’s other side, Aurelia absently scratched at her arm, lightly scoring her dark skin. “Much as I’m devastated that my parents are gone, I’m glad they’re not around to see this.”

I knew exactly what she meant. Like many in our settlement, I’d lost a number of my relatives to the plague that had swept through it years earlier.

It would have torn my parents apart to see me be taken away.

Especially since it was rumored that the human offerings were tossed into a labyrinth inhabited by a half-man half-bull creature.

Well, it’s a hard ‘no’ from me, thanks.

“My mom’s wrecked,” said Kemp, his voice breaking. “My sister was given to the Sovereigns last time the emissaries came, and my dad’s gone. She’ll be alone now.”

My chest squeezed. While I’d known about his father’s death, I hadn’t been aware of the rest. Being an acolyte, I rarely mingled with the townspeople.

My family line had been part of the retinue of the gods since the immortals first appeared in our realm.

Hellyne, the Goddess of Fate and Rebirth, had settled here and named the dominion after her most favored pet, a Phoenix bird.

Kemp gave me a sideways glance. “I was surprised when your name was called out. I didn’t think they’d put yours in the bowl. The gods would want you protected, not be made a ‘sacrifice.’”

“But the half-bloods here don’t want me around, and they can just claim that this was the will of the gods.” Much like my aunt believed, for that matter.

I slanted her a look. Stood with our fellow acolytes, she put a fist to her heart, her blue eyes soft with both regret and resignation. We shared the same riot of golden-brown curls, smooth olive skin, and slender figure.

What I didn’t share with any of my relatives were my eyes. The black pupils were surrounded by a ring of moonlight-silver. Eclipse eyes. They marked me as a Sayer.

Every so often, one was born—always during the seventh hour on the seventh day of the seventh month while the moon bled in the sky. Anointed by the gods, people said.

Once upon a time, Sayers were treasured.

Effectively mouthpieces for the gods, we were able to act as temporary vessels for them, pass on intrinsic knowledge, impart prophetic visions, and wield small amounts of power.

However, it had been a long time since Sayers demonstrated any abilities, just as it had been a long time since the primordials had spoken through them.

At the sight of my aunt’s unshed tears, I promptly got all choked up. My nose tingling, I faced forward once more and inhaled deeply. It was right then that the emissaries finally crossed the border of our settlement.

I silently cursed, my pulse doing a small stutter. Another offering began to snivel. Some others in the line started talking in panicked whispers.

The Black Tapestry’s officiates weren’t quite so blurry now, so I managed to make out some of their faces. The male leading the traveling party caught my attention. I remembered him from nine years ago.

Talon, Cardinal of the Black Tapestry.

The extremely powerful being was believed to be a soulless creation of Vitus, the God of Death and War. The primordial had apparently assigned Talon to guard the Sovereigns, who were also his only living sons.

A lot of things were said about Talon, including that he could take on the form of a dragon. It was also rumored that he never spoke. Like ever.

The male on my right nudged me. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that we’ll be making this trip together,” Atticus teased, a smug note to his tone.

I felt my eyelid twitch. Not much older than me, the godkin had a real mean streak.

I’d once stumbled on him trying to force himself on a woman.

Godkin in general were against sexual violence, and they did not fuck around when it came to punishing such crimes.

Though he’d pressured me to lie about it, I hadn’t. So, yes, I’d earned his eternal hatred.

“The Sovereigns know of your existence already, so they won’t be surprised by the sight of you, but I don’t think they’ll want you around anymore than we do,” he mused. Goaded.

They probably wouldn’t. Why? Because they didn’t like that I existed. Sayers were always godkin. Always.

Until me.

In their view, despite that they put no real value in Sayers anymore, only they should have the honor of being anointed by the primordials.

“It may be considered taboo to harm a Sayer but, since the gods clearly have no use for your kind anymore, I doubt the Sovereigns will let that stop them from feeding you to the minotaur,” Atticus added, a smirk in his voice.

Refusing to show him even a hint of unease, I instead gave him one of my slow, vapid smiles that always seemed to set his teeth on edge. By the way his face darkened, it worked as effectively as usual.

On his other side, his sister Seneca blew out a shaky breath. “They’re almost on us.”

As I looked back at the approaching emissaries, I had to fight to keep my breathing steady. The same nervousness that I felt also rolled off the others in the line.

Kemp clasped his hands behind his back, as if to hide that they were trembling. “They make a seriously intimidating sight.”

“Especially Talon,” murmured Aurelia. “I can’t deny that he’s extraordinary.”

He had that awe-inspiring effect on people. Tall and over two-hundred pounds of whip-cord muscles and incomparable male beauty, there was something so very raw and uncivilized about him. He was rough. Dangerous. Exuded a savage sexuality.

Just looking at him would have reduced my body to an adoring puddle of goo if I wasn’t dancing on the knife-edge of panic.

Talon swept his gaze—so shrewd and watchful—over the town square as he reached it.

His expression stony, he pulled his horse to a halt and then smoothly dismounted it in an easy, practiced movement.

His men followed his lead, either slipping off their horses or hopping off the wagons—as did a bunch of dogs.

Slender with fawn fur, long muzzles, and erect ears, the canines were clearly Laelaps.

The positively glorious steeds—tall and regal with lush manes and long, powerful legs—could only be Arions.