The Courtesan's Fallen Faith

1. Prologue

Prologue

The white fabric pressed against my ribs as I left the altar room. Behind me, there was no steam to signal Ekris’ approval. After his final words, he had left me in silence. The God of Love’s disapproval was palpable, and his silence only compounded his condemnation.

I had asked for the silence, but now it stuck in my throat.

Even my footsteps were quiet as slippers muffled my retreat.

At the door, through my veil, I checked that no ushers or Ekrissians were taking a late-night walk.

Of course, it was empty. They were all in bed by the curfew, as I should have been.

I steadied myself against the door handle as a draught picked up the hem of my dress and swirled around my ankles.

I reminded myself that my betrothed was out there.

He had been waiting for me to return; waiting to see me in this beautiful white gown.

He had made arrangements with a Wisdom student who was qualified to officiate our ceremony.

That was before we could have known the price. I thought the answer would be a yes or a no. It was neither. It was a condition I never would have guessed.

I walked through the halls, holding my dress to keep it from swishing along the floor. The peplos was white, bleached by artisans to an unblemished brightness. I had never worn white before. I had never expected to. The dress was still perfect, but would its wearer now be a stranger?

Why had I agreed to Ekris’ condition? Gods, my mind felt so quiet. I’d ruined it all.

I reached the back door, where I had told him to wait. I opened it, and the warmth of the summer air and the grinding spell of cicadas fell over me. The heat set into my sleeves and swept over my face, and he was still there.

Maybe it hadn’t happened yet. Maybe it hadn’t worked.

I looked at the man who was supposed to become my husband that night. I wanted him more than I could describe.

Robar.

My betrothed was a beautiful man, with a youthful glow to his cheeks and curls that reminded me of Ekris’ own golden locks. With dark honey eyes and sparkling teeth, when he had first visited me, it was like summer itself had become a man.

He stood on the other side of the courtyard gate, the wrought iron fence topped by metal hearts casting warped silhouettes of love against his chest. His hands were in his pockets, his eyebrows pinched together.

He scanned the upper windows with confusion and curiosity, before looking down the street to the front entrance, where the huge doors to our temple would be barred shut.

Dread coiled inside me. He looked lost.

“Hello,” I said, uncertainly.

The door still shadowed my face, and the veil wouldn’t help. But he knew me, he was waiting for me. I waited for his face to light up, for that boyish grin to envelop me and that hand to reach for mine. As it had on each of our eight meetings; the way I thought it would for the rest of my life.

But he looked at me, and his eyes widened. Torches caught them, exaggerating the fearful whiteness even more. He took a step back, as if caught committing some crime.

He scanned my outfit, and then looked up at the full moon heavy in its peak. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll be going now.”

I took a step forward, still holding the door. I needed it, or I thought I would collapse. “No. Don’t go.”

My voice cracked, and he retreated again.

I reached my hand towards him, stepping fully out into the moonlight.

It was then that my betrothed clocked that I was wearing a wedding dress, and his eyes somehow widened further.

I knew without a doubt that he had no recollection of giving me this dress.

Ekrissians always wore red. I must have looked entirely out of place, and I felt it, too.

Ekris had kept his promise. The effects were immediate, as he had said they would be.

My betrothed had entirely forgotten I existed.

“Come back,” I said, faintly, my heart already breaking.

He walked away from the House with scurried steps.

I rushed towards the gate, pulling it open with a horrible iron creak.

My betrothed looked back at me over his shoulder. As if I were some spectre, some ghoul, chasing him down a twisting alleyway. I stopped abruptly at the fear I saw there.

I fell to my knees in the dusty street.

The man running away from me was supposed to be my life. My future. I had chosen him over my god, I had believed how much he said he loved me. But to him, I was a bridal ghost, haunting the doorway of a House he didn’t remember visiting, let alone travelling to that night.

If he loves you, you’ll win his love again. Not as an Ekrissian, but as Annie.

As Annie. I hadn’t wanted to be Annie since the moment Ekris accepted me. I had only wanted to be his. Now, when I had wanted to be another’s, I had lost them both.

The regret soured on my tongue, and I looked back at the House of Love with a growing sense of horror. What had I done?