Chapter Two
The Waters of Merced trickled over the golden rock to land softly in the pool. Abauna of Trice lowered her naked body under the heavy, hot liquid, watching nervously as two attendants filed in behind her. Above them, on the dais, stood a lone Ancient. Her skin was wrinkled and creased, her white hair braided into a crown around her head. As fragile as she looked, choking power seeped from her, washing over the bathing room and silencing all within her presence.
Abauna drew in a deep breath of the perfumed air and released it slowly, trying to relax so the attendants could wash her as was customary.
Tomorrow she was to become a bride. She’d been chosen to wed a male of the Empress’s tribe. The Vegoths, the most elite of all the Barbarian tribes. The royalty of their kind. It was the greatest honor among females, to be given to a male of Vegoth. Especially if you were of Trice, the tribe of workers who were seen mostly as a nuisance until someone needed a job done. Yet… she couldn’t find a reason to celebrate the occasion.
Abauna was used to being the outcast even within her own tribe. She didn’t look like other females of Trice. She wasn’t plain and simple, with dull eyes and hair. She knew it, was told so, many times throughout her younger years.
“Too pretty to be one of us. Complete and foolish otherness,” they would say of her.
“It’s concerning. Unnatural. Even disgusting for a female of Trice to be so.”
“A useless beauty… if only she’d been a Vegoth. Her beauty might mean something.”
She wasn’t liked among their kind. Not by her own, but especially not by those higher than her. The Vegoths prized beauty, even rewarded it. But not when it came from a lower tribe. Then, it became a source of disgust. Something to be shunned. Avoided at all cost, or… mercilessly mocked. The Empress most of all, despised her. To the point that Abauna assumed she was to be executed when the wicked female summoned her.
Both Tribes agreed that Abauna was a disgrace.
Now, she couldn’t help but wonder what the Ancients thought of her.
She stared up at the one above her. Perhaps the wise ones wouldn’t let the Empress murder Abauna without cause. They weren’t cruel like she was. At least not according to the stories passed down.
But the summons had been something different altogether.
A declaration:
Abauna of Trice, you have been chosen as a bride to the tribe of Vegoth. You are to be sequestered in the temple at once to begin preparations.
She’d lost her breath at the Empress’s unbelievable proclamation. Not only her, but everyone within hearing. Abauna, most hated in the land, scourge of the Empress herself, was to be given as a bride. To a male of the most prestigious tribe.
A joke.
That’s what she’d thought at first. The cruel woman was attempting to lower Abauna further. To embarrass her more. As if she even had the ability to feel that emotion after all this time.
But the preparations began, and no one was laughing.
Bridal training. Learning of her body and a male’s, and how they would join to finish the ceremony. Much of it, she already knew. But she paid the utmost attention, determined not to miss anything. Especially the parts about pleasing a lusty male and receiving the pleasure they wish to give their brides. How to touch, how to taste, and how to give them power so they might walk taller through life. Fight stronger. Be braver.
It was a bride’s purpose. As it was a groom’s purpose to protect, cherish, and abolish any fears.
Suspicious as she was about the Empress’s intentions, she was determined to learn it all. Be the best bride she could be.
Because when her male spotted her at the end of the aisle waiting, the race to prove herself would be on. She could only pray the disappointment in his gaze could be well hidden. She knew she’d have to try harder than any other female to please him, but she was determined to.
Still, sitting in the waters the night before the ceremony, she was more scared than she’d ever been in her life.
What would her Vegoth be like?
Was he cruel like the Empress? A warrior, like so many of the female’s court? Would he require Abauna to change herself to please him, or accept her as she was? Did he take his duties as groom seriously? Would he protect her, ease her fears?
Or would he only scare her more?
Was she destined to fail before the ceremony was even over?
A sob escaped Abauna’s throat, but she tightened it down, determined not to cry before the Ancient.
“It’s okay,” the attendant to her left whispered beside her ear while scooping water over Abauna’s back. “Many females cry the night before the ceremony. Do not be afraid.”
“Can we not warn her? Something?” the other attendant muttered low.
“Shh, Diar.”
“But—”
“Warn me of what?” Abauna asked.
“About your groom,” Diar hissed.
The pressure in Abauna’s chest grew. Her groom must be fearsome. Perhaps even crueler than their leader. Maybe that was why the Empress had decided to give Abauna to him.
Maybe she was to die after all. Just not by the Empress’s hand. By her groom’s.
She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to stay calm.
“We cannot speak of him here,” the first attendant said. “Do you wish to curse her day?”
“It’s already cursed,” Diar said, bringing Abauna’s hand above the water and scrubbing it with the silk wash pad.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” the first attendant rushed out, clearing her throat and flicked her gaze toward the Ancient. “Let us finish so you can rest.”
The sinking feeling inside told her there’d be no rest for her tonight. And maybe many nights beyond. Perhaps not until her final sleep.
Which she feared might come sooner rather than later.
Please see me, she sent up a desperate prayer to the Ancients, not knowing if they would even hear. See that I have tried to be good and right before you, always. Please let me bear the coming hate with dignity, or… or let my death come swiftly.