Chapter 5 #2
He exhales. “Very well. Should Katherine Fairchild fail her examination, she will wed Tobias Reynolds to remedy their sin.” His eyes drill into me. “And should your own prove admissible, Selene Fairchild, you will take your sister’s place.”
He gestures to the high priestess, who approaches my sister, and to the Oracle, who makes her way toward me, each holding a vial of red liquid that looks like blood.
Councilman Darius turns to the crowd. “If a maiden is indeed pure, liquid gold will pour forth from her nose,” he proclaims. “If she is not, the liquid will bleed black.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch my sister timidly sip at the solution, unable to fight the grimace that mars her face as the bitter liquid hits her tongue. I turn back to the Oracle, whose eyes seem to peer into my very soul. I take the vial and down it, breaking her unnerving gaze.
A hundred thousand bystanders hold their breath, an eerie silence settling over the coliseum.
Then gasps ripple through the stands as Kat’s nose oozes thick black. The betrayal on her face as she realizes what I’ve done breaks my heart.
I slipped an herb into the tea I brewed for her last night—one I learned about during my year of atonement, used by the Temple of Elarene as a contraceptive. Not harmful, but just enough to fail the purity test… and save my sister from the fire.
Then I feel it—a pinch, like holding back tears before they fall. I lower my gaze as gold drips from my nose and splashes onto the marble floor.
Relief and dread break over me all at once. It worked. But sparing her life comes at a heavy cost. Unless I speak now—and convincingly—the law will devour her reputation.
Impure, the whispers hiss all around me. Shameful. Deplorable.
I tip my chin toward Dain. “The Veilkeeper ought to be absolved. He was only doing his duty, but Tobias diverted him with a lie. I ask that you reassign him to me until sundown, that he may not retire in disgrace.”
Dain’s helm lifts a fraction in surprise, then tilts again in the stiffest nod I’ve ever seen.
“Absolutely not!” my father thunders. “This is madness!”
Elder Councilman Darius raises a hand. “She won. She invoked her right and proved her claims. Solmere law stands.”
“The maiden is—”
“The decision,” Darius continues, unfazed, “is final.”
Silence presses in as my father’s fury burns a hole through me. I let it. He can do no more to spurn me than he already has, and by tomorrow, it will mean nothing, anyway.
I find Kat in the crowd. Her eyes are wide and wet as she bites back a sob.
I stand still as the attendants pull the corset strings tight. The white gown doesn’t feel like mine. It clings to me like a stranger’s skin—smooth, fitted, and laced with red embroidery that coils along the hems like veins.
During the ridiculously lavish carriage ride from the capital to the massive estate surrounding Moonspire Lake—the mansion with twelve grand rooms reserved for occupants who arrive once every two years and are never seen again—I could think of nothing but the water.
How cold it will be.
How far the mist will stretch.
How long it will take to drown.
That is, if the fire doesn’t claim me first.
Those same thoughts threaten to consume me now, but I do my best to push them aside and take another deep breath—well, as deep as I can manage in such a tight corset.
Somewhere in the distance, temple bells toll, the soft, mournful peals in stark contrast to the celebration unfurling beyond the window.
I wonder if they’re for me. Does anyone else feel it, too, the dread that this isn’t a wedding or a ceremony, but a sacrifice?
A beautiful, blood-laced offering arrayed in silk and silence?
When the final ribbon is tied and the last knot pulled, the attendants leave me alone in the silence. I turn to the mirror only to find a stranger staring back.
“Well,” I murmur dryly, “looks like I’ll be wearing a wedding dress, after all.” I think of all the times I swore to Kat I’d never marry, nor wear such a useless color.
I wonder if they’ll remember me. Not just the girl in the gown, but the girl beneath it.
The one who loved wild horses and late summers, who knew every tree on our land by heart.
Will they remember the way I laughed? The way I fought?
Or will all that I am be reduced to a name carved in stone, another bride burned away for someone else’s blessing?
The door creaks open, and I turn to see Kat in the threshold, frozen like she doesn’t know whether to run and embrace me or strike me.
I’d take both over the look she gives me, and the unbearable silence that stretches between us with each passing moment.
Her braid is half-unraveled, her eyes rimmed red.
There are marks on her arms where she’s been gripping herself too tightly.
“Why did you do it?” she whispers, finally breaking the silence, voice shaking. “I don’t understand.”
I step forward to embrace her, but she jerks away.
“I was ready,” she spits, fists trembling. “You disgraced me in front of the entire city!”
“Kat, please—listen to me.”
She shoves me hard enough that I stumble. “No. You don’t get to do this again. You don’t get to make my choices for me.”
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“You humiliated me!” Her voice cracks. “Do you even know what they’re saying about me now? That I was rejected! That I tried to cheat my way to the gods’ blessings!”
I take a slow breath and lead her to the edge of the bed, where a stack of parchment sits neatly bound with a red ribbon.
She frowns. “What is this?”
“Letters,” I say softly. “Letters Mother wrote to you before she died.”
She clutches them to her chest, and my heart swells.
“And letters from me,” I continue. “Instructions. For the ranch. For the horses and cattle. For you.”
She flips through, eyes widening. “You’ve… you’ve named me and Tobias as the beneficiaries?”
I nod. “On one condition. That after you marry him, you leave the city and move to the ranch as soon as possible.”
She covers her mouth. “Selene…”
“I want you to have the life you deserve,” I whisper. “I want you to have a future. Peace. Love. Let the land stay in our family. Live well. For me, Kat.”
I picture our mother singing to the cows at dusk, her voice drifting like a lullaby through the stables. I remember the first time Kat fell off a colt and cried, how I wrapped her in my arms and promised she’d never have to be brave alone.
This is the last promise I can keep.
“No,” she breathes, shaking her head. “No, you don’t get to play the martyr. You’ve ruined me.”
“Ruined you?”
Tears spill down her cheeks. “No one will ever look at me the same. I’ll never be able to show my face in society again.”
It hits me then. She isn’t mourning me. She’s mourning her reputation, mourning the delicate world our father so carefully constructed for her.
“I did it to protect you,” I say quietly, reaching for her.
“Did you?” she snaps, recoiling as if my touch might burn her. “Or was it for your own glory?”
For a moment, I can only stare, stunned. “Is that what you really think?”
“Yes,” she says after a long, trembling pause. “I think you did it because you were tired of being the disgraced daughter. Because you’re jealous of me.”
“Jealous?” I could never envy the fate that awaited me. If only she knew…
“Yes. You’re jealous that I was chosen, just like Liora.” Her mouth twists into a sneer. “But not you. Never you.”
A chill sweeps down my spine. “You sound like Father.”
“At least one of us does.”
“I don’t even know you anymore, Katherine,” I whisper.
“You’ve let his poison sink too deep. You can’t see his ambitions for what they are.
He’ll use you, just like he tried to use me.
I made a way out for you, a way for you to marry the man you love.
To be free. Just like I promised Mother I would. ”
A knock at the door shatters the moment.
Lori enters first, looking pale and exhausted, one hand resting on her growing belly.
Memories of Mother flood back, and for the first time, I wonder if Lori’s scared.
If she wonders what kind of world she’s bringing a child into.
If she’ll lose her life the way my mother did, trying to bear my father a son.
“You look radiant, my dear,” she sighs. “The gods are gaining a beautiful bride tonight.”
My father follows, regal as ever in Council black, though his gaze falters when it lands on me.
“Indeed,” he says, too stiffly to be sincere.
I nod politely. “Councilman.”
He flinches, just slightly.
“I have something for you,” I say tersely, handing up another scroll to him.
He steps forward just far enough to take it, careful not to touch my hand. Angling it to catch the firelight, he arches a brow. “And what is this now?”
“A Covenant of Stewardship,” I say, sliding the parchment toward him.
His lips twitch into something like amusement. “And why, may I ask, would I do that?”
I don’t raise my voice. I don’t have to. “Because until Katherine is married, the law still recognizes you as her guardian,” I say evenly. “Her property. Her protection. Her future. All of it remains under your authority.”
His amusement falters.
“The Fairchild ranch will remain in our family in perpetuity,” I continue. “It cannot be sold, divided, or seized. Succession will pass through female heirs only.”
I take a step closer.
“The bride price will be paid directly into the ranch for five years. Every worker currently employed will retain their position—or the right to remain on the land for life. Their children, and their children’s children, will be afforded the same protection.”
He says nothing.
“You will sign,” I add quietly. “Or I will make sure the Council learns what really happened the night I ended my engagement to Councilman Grey’s son.”
Lori’s voice cuts through the silence, tight with apprehension. “What is she talking about, Roland?”
Roland. I’d almost forgotten my father’s real name. I haven’t heard it in years.