Once Written in Gilded Blood (Cruel Fates Duet #2)

Venus

Once upon a time, there was a goddess, one of love and fertility, whose only desire was to have a daughter. She wasn’t particularly fond of her fellow gods in a romantic sense—they were too prideful and cruel for her liking. Which only left her with the mortals below or the demons of Mortem.

But her offspring were wise. They never shared who their mother was. Perhaps they never figured it out, and it would be clever of them not to say even if they did. For demigods were cruel beings. They would use them like cattle, anything to better their kingdom.

She considered ignoring the cruel rule, but the god of death, Pluto, warned her that the demigods belonged in Alzhor, and Jupiter would never let her keep her daughter in the heavens.

Even if she raised her amongst the humans, it would draw the attention of the gods and the punishment for disobeying.

They showed the goddess the fate of her daughter, the golden blood that would slip from Alira’s veins one way or another. She would die; it was the one excruciating truth. Alira would not live a good life. It would be filled with suffering, and her time would be cut short.

The Fates showed Venus the way the demigods would use her daughter for her gift—the gift of Venus.

Being the daughter of the goddess of fertility meant that Alira would be able to conceive children much more easily than other demigods.

She would be used for her fertility, abused, and treated differently from the rest of the demigods for the rarity of her gift.

Her daughter would never live a normal life until the war was brought to a head and the demons slaughtered all of Alzhor.

Seeing the cruel fate that her only daughter would be dealt was the hardest part of Venus’s existence. It wasn’t fair. It must have been punishment by the divinity of the world, of Faultore, for having a child with a demon. It broke her heart.

Venus refused this prophecy, for it was too merciless for any creature.

She did not know why she asked the Fates to show her their vision when she already had a bad feeling about it.

But she knew there was truth in it. Something felt different when Alira was born—the cosmos seemed to shift and pay more attention to the infant.

Alira’s hair was as silver and as shimmery as the stars, her eyes a lovely shade of blue that made her olive skin radiate.

She was more god than demigod or demon, a blessing and a curse.

Sadness was sewn into Venus’s heart.

No matter how many times she asked the Fates to show her another version of Alira’s future, the result was always the same. Alira died at the hands of demons.

Time and time again.

Venus pleaded with the Fates. For there had to be a way to change it.

“Goddess of Love, you know better than to alter fate. The ripples are dangerous and won’t serve your intentions the way that you are hoping they will,” they warned her, all three speaking at once, their haunting voices bouncing off the cave walls.

Venus’s stomach twisted with guilt as she replied, “I will do anything to change her fate.”

They observed her and gave Venus a pitiful shake of their heads.

“Very well, but you will need to follow our instructions perfectly. Any misstep will result in tragedy, and there is only one chance for this to work. Are you willing to sacrifice your gift of the flowers?” The Fates pulled down their ancient book from the tallest shelf along the stone wall of their cave— a small corner of Mortem that Pluto allowed Venus to visit.

“Yes.” Venus did not hesitate, even though her gift of flowers was precious to her.

She’d turned many humans and demons alike into flowers for their crimes against others.

She’d also learned the past through them occasionally, if she passed a flower that had grown from bones—flowers held memories from the things they’ve used to grow.

Sometimes they whispered as you walked by. Sometimes they shouted.

The Fates glanced up at Venus with dull, cold eyes, tapping their long fingernails at the bottom of a page in an offbeat tempo. The paper was filled with other hopeful altered prophecies, written by other gods or demigods, Venus imagined.

“In gilded blood, it must be done.” The Fates’ voices carried through the cave and made chills crawl up Venus’s arms.

The goddess took the black dagger they handed her and made one firm cut down her palm, gold blossoming from her perfect skin, and there she wrote, even at the cost of others, for her daughter to escape such a cruel fate.

“It is done.” The Fates slammed the book shut and grinned in a way that left the goddess worried for what she’d just done.

Jupiter must never find out—he disapproves of tampering with the world below the heavens.

But she could not turn a blind eye to her daughter. Venus’s love for her was unconditional.

The goddess frowned and delicately touched her finger to Alira’s cheek.

The child was sleeping and unconcerned with the world around her.

Venus choked back tears when she set the demigod on the steps of Alzhor’s kingdom, placing the sheathed dagger she used for the ceremony on top of Alira’s blanket.

“May the sparrows be with you, my sweet Alira.”