The Temple of Sacrifice Read online

  They stayed at Paderau only one day, much to Anje’s dismay. He’d hoped to have more time with Taryn, to fully understand what had happened at Kaldaar’s Stones. She assured him they would be together at the Light Celebrations—where they would have plenty of time to discuss the events of that horrible morning—but her immediate concern was delivering Carga to the Narthvier for her purification.

  Anje couldn’t fault Taryn for not wanting to discuss the event, but he suspected there was something she hid from him. Something important. Something that terrified her.

  He stood alone in the courtyard, pulling his cloak around him to fend off the early morning chill, and waved as the three travelers slipped out of the palace gates. The feeling of dread that came over him lingered, embedding a chill deep within his bones.

  The others would arrive in a few days and Anje needed to be there to greet them, but first he had to make an unplanned visit. It had been many seasons since he’d used the hidden chamber in his dressing room. For several long minutes he stared at the door, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake. One wrong syllable and he’d end up with Kaldaar, banished to the edge of nothingness.

  Gathering his courage, he blew out the breath he’d been holding and touched the seal etched into the wood. His muffled words echoed in the tight space, warming the air. Dust motes swirled in a tempest until the chamber itself spun out of control. Anje continued chanting, despite the fear that gripped his heart. He’d been too long in the Light. It was suicide to attempt this after so much time away.

  And yet…

  And yet he continued to say the words, to infuse his power into the wood, to believe it was possible. For Taryn, he told himself. For her, it was worth revisiting the horrors.

  The spinning stopped and the air settled.

  Anje gathered his thoughts and smoothed his jacket before turning the door handle. When he stepped out of the chamber, he was no longer in his home, but in the room he’d used as a small boy in Caer Idris.

  He’d done it. He’d crossed time and space. A wide smile broke out on his face and he danced a little jig. Dark curtains blocked the light, but Anje could see the room was not being used. It looked much the same as it had when he lived there, with a few changes. New bedding, different pictures, and of course, his personal items were nowhere to be seen. His hasty departure that fateful day meant he’d left much behind. Over the seasons, he’d often wondered what his uncle, Valterys’ father, had done with his beloved items.

  Anje shook himself. He’d not let the past derail his purpose.

  He turned from the room and hurried to Valterys’ apartment. At that early hour, his cousin would most likely be in his study or the dungeons. Bile churned in his gut at the memory of seeing his cousin, blood streaking his face and arms, a satisfied smile on his lips, taunting him.

  Pushing the horrific image away, Anje quickened his pace. The sooner he saw Valterys, the sooner he could leave the vile place.

  “Uncle?” Anje didn’t recognize the voice, but there was just one person who would refer to him as such in this godforsaken place. Although cousins by blood, Valterys and Anje had grown up like brothers, which made it only natural for Valterys’ son to call him uncle. Older now, the figure who stepped out from the shadows was disturbingly familiar. He had the height and looks of his father.

  “Zakael.” Anje greeted the man, keeping his hands to his sides.

  “I was unaware you would be visiting today.” He tapped his lip with a long finger. “In fact, I can’t recall you ever visiting. Which makes me wonder to what we owe this honor?”

  “I’m here to see my cousin. If you’ll excuse me.” Anje didn’t wait for an answer. He was being rude, but Zakael deserved no less. The boy was as twisted as his father.

  Zakael followed Anje up the stairs to Valterys’ rooms, standing quietly beside his uncle while Anje knocked on the door. After a moment, a servant answered. Seeing Zakael with the stranger, he allowed them in without saying a word.

  As he’d hoped, Valterys was in his study, reading a scroll with a dozen others scattered across his desk. He waved a dismissive hand, not bothering to look up from his work. “I’m busy.”

  “Yes, aren’t we all.” Anje hid his smile when Valterys’ head jerked up in surprise. “I’m here to discuss my niece.”

  Valterys took in Anje, then Zakael. A look passed between the two men that renewed the churning in his gut.

  “What about my daughter? Is she in danger?”

  “At the moment, no. I’m sure you heard about her altercation with one of Kaldaar’s minions.” Anje studied the placid expression on his cousin’s face, his anxiety turning to anger. “You call yourself a father? Any sane man would’ve gone to his daughter and offered counsel after what she experienced. Unless…” Anje let the word hang between them, his misty eyes never leaving the steel gaze of Valterys. Their coloring might be the same, but Anje was nothing like his cousin, which was why he’d been cut off from the rest of the family after the death of his oldest son.

  “What? Do you expect me to run after her every time she has a scuffle? Wasn’t it in your city she was nearly murdered by an assassin?”

  “Was that by your command, dear cousin? Are you in league with Kaldaar and wish your own daughter dead?”

  Valterys barked a laugh and stretched his arms to the side before crossing them over his chest. His glare was meant to cut, but Anje had grown immune to his cousin’s intimidation.

  “Hardly. Aelinae needs Taryn, and I am doing my best to make certain she stays alive.” He held something back—Anje could see it in the way Valterys’ jaw clenched, but he dared not ask what. Not just yet.

  “Good. Then we are not at cross-purposes.” Anje forced himself to relax, for his shoulders to slump in docile countenance. “She needs you, Valterys, as a father and a mentor. Without the trinity, she is bound to fail.”

  Valterys stood then and nodded. “Of that we are agreed. Will you see to it that she comes to me of her own will? I’ll not have her here under protest.”

  Up to that moment, Zakael had been silently observing the conversation, but at the last word, he held out his hand to silence the others. Anje’s stomach tightened again.

  “No. Send her to Gaarendahl, where I can help unlock her Dark powers.”

  Anje eyed him skeptically, but Zakael’s slate eyes, so similar in shade and shape to his father’s, held a promise of sincerity. Trusting him was the last thing Anje wanted to do and began to object, but Zakael cut him off.

  “I guarantee you her safety. No harm shall come to my sister during her visit. Of this, you have my word.” Zakael placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head.

  Anje looked to Valterys, who was rubbing his chin between thumb and forefinger, distance lingering in his gaze as if he was physically present, but mentally far away. Finally, he nodded and said, “Yes, she’ll go to you first, son. Unlock her powers, instruct her as you can, and then send her to me. She must have the trinity to complete her tasks.” His focus snapped to Anje and he added, “For Aelinae.”

  The three of them placed their hands over their hearts.

  “If you’ll indulge an old man,” Anje said after the oath was made, “I’d like to reacquaint myself with my childhood home. It’s many long seasons since I roamed these halls.”

  A tic pulled the corner of Valterys’ lips, but he smiled through the irritation. “Of course. Take as long as you’d like. Your belongings are stored in the attic.” The last was said almost as an afterthought.

  Anje drifted in and out of rooms, most of which looked strangely the same as they had when he’d run through them as a lad. Memories crowded his thoughts. He’d lived happily at Caer Idris until Valterys told him he would marry the younger sister of the empress. Not that Anje didn’t want to marry the beautiful princess—it was what Valterys expected of him once he was firmly ensconced in Lliandra’s court.

  But it hadn’t happened as Valterys had planned. Lliandra, distrustful of Valterys and h
is brethren, had sent Gwyneira and Anje to live in Paderau, far from her court and the Light Throne. There, they made a good life for themselves and their children. Until—

  The duke shook himself and shoved the dangerous thought to the darkness where it dwelled, eating away at him every moment of every day.

  Without realizing it, he’d retraced his steps until he stood before a nondescript door. A visitor to the castle would never know that beyond the plain wooden planks and simply made iron hinges lay the dungeons. It was there Anje had discovered his cousin’s peculiar interests.

  He spun and hurried away from the darkened corridors and dank-smelling cells. Several servants scuttled out of his way as he rushed toward a door he knew led outside. It banged open and Anje gulped in fresh sea air. The salty tang bit his throat.

  It was a mistake to return to Caer Idris. He should’ve known better, but he had to see the place for himself, see Valterys. Had to know what his cousin planned for Taryn.

  Anje walked through the gardens, breathing in the sweet scent of flowers that bloomed between Harvest and Wintertide. Their delicate fragrance, buttressed against the brine of the ocean, soothed his fractured nerves. It was in this very garden that Duke Anje had married the love of his life. It was there she’d promised to love him, even beyond death.

  He bent and inhaled the essence of Gwyn’s favorite rose, one she’d taken stalks from and carefully cultivated at both Ravenwood and Paderau. In every petal, he saw his beautiful bride.

  The slamming of a door brought him out of his reverie and he looked up in time to see Valterys stride hastily away, a sack over his shoulder. Intrigued, Anje kept to the shadows and followed his cousin. When Valterys stopped suddenly and scanned the area, Anje froze, hoping the scant leaves of a ficus hid him from his cousin’s view. It annoyed him he still felt the need to hide from Valterys. He was an adult, not the child he’d been when Valterys had practiced his various forms of torture on him. Old habits were hard to break.

  Valterys gripped the bag tighter, his face turned up to the clear sky. A chill whipped around Anje’s legs and up his trousers. The form of Valterys altered from that of a man to a sleek black feiche. With the beat of his strong wings, Valterys lifted into the sky.

  Anje swore. It had been ages since he’d transformed. Ever since he turned his back on Valterys and shut himself off from his Dark ShantiMari. The desire to follow his cousin was too strong to deny. It was for Taryn, he told himself. Her safety was more important than his own fears.

  Stepping around the ficus into the sunlight, Anje held his hands out to his side, imagining the form of a levon. If he wanted to follow Valterys, he’d need the speed of the smaller bird. With his parcel, Valterys required the bulk of the feiche, which worked to Anje’s advantage.

  He suppressed a shudder as his head morphed into a feathered crown and strong beak. His body followed, flowing smoothly into the bird’s shape. That he could transform so easily after a long period of abstinence intrigued him, but it was the bird’s desires that flooded through him. Hunt. Feed. Fly.

  Anje beat his wings, catching an updraft that propelled him into the air and sent him spiraling to the right. He countered the warm rush beneath his wings and flew in a steady line, his vision locked on the speck in front of him.

  Keeping his distance, he followed Valterys over the Spine of Ohlin. When Valterys banked north, Anje’s nerves betrayed him. His cousin was heading toward the Temple of Ardyn. Many continued their devotion to the fallen god, but not Anje. When he left Caer Idris, he left behind everything his family held dear, including their alliance with the mad god.

  He swooped around the back of the temple, transforming into the form of a man with slightly more effort than it had taken to become a bird. The bird’s hold on him worried Anje, but he had neither the time nor the inclination to understand why. His focus was on Valterys and what he was doing at the temple.

  By the time he reached the entrance, Valterys had laid a body on the altar and flames rose from the floor to the top of the domed building. Valterys spoke in a manic rush, apologizing to the god for being delayed. He didn’t mention Anje by name but said an unscheduled visitor had prompted caution on his part.

  Rykoto’s visage shimmered in the flames, a forked tongue snaking out to taste the body.

  “She is delightful, my son. Fresh. Virginal. Her blood will fulfill my desires for now.”

  A look of relief spread across Valterys’ face. Anje crept farther into the temple, using the columns to hide himself. Twice the mad god’s eyes roved over the room, settling where Anje hid, but he said nothing to Valterys.

  “My lord,” Valterys began, “Kaldaar remains exiled, the Eirielle grows stronger, and your queen awaits your command. All is in order.”

  Rykoto’s gaze flicked once more to where Anje hid. A tendril of flame slithered up the altar to pluck a piece of flesh from the dead woman’s thigh. Several more followed. With each one, Rykoto moaned with lust-filled desire.

  Sickness crept up Anje’s throat and he swallowed hard against the urge to vomit. But he did not look away. He forced himself to watch until nothing but bones remained on the altar. Even when Rykoto held her heart in his fiery grip, taking pleasure in eating the organ, Anje kept his eyes locked on the horror. This was why he’d forsaken his god and family for the Light.

  Satiated, Rykoto turned his attention to Valterys. “Have you uncovered who was behind Kaldaar’s scheme?”

  Anje glanced at his cousin. He’d suspected Valterys of not only orchestrating the events with Kaldaar’s minions, but of manipulating the assassin as well.

  “No, my lord. The two Aelans involved with the plot were given a traitor’s burial. There has been no more from Kaldaar’s agent. Most likely, he was vanquished at the Stones. The Eirielle’s powers are greater than I was led to believe. However, she has yet to unlock her Dark ShantiMari.”

  “There is still time.” The air warmed within the temple, and then snowflakes drifted from the ceiling to dust the ground. “There is yet still time.”

  “Great Lord, what is your bidding?” Valterys knelt before the flames, his head bent in supplication.

  “What of Julieta’s daughter? Does she live?”

  A frown crossed Valterys’ features. “I know not of who you speak.”

  Anje breathed a sigh of relief. Valterys was a bold man, but not stupid enough to lie to their god. If he didn’t know Sabina was the vessel, he couldn’t have been involved with the Kaldaar scheme. Or, he was lying, and as Anje feared, the cause of all their problems. It was difficult to tell with Valterys. Lies slipped from his lips like the smoothest dreem.

  Rykoto’s voice broke through the air, laced with disappointment. “Be gone from here. I need rest after my feeding.”

  Valterys bowed to the floor and the flames dimmed to nothing. The temple darkened without Rykoto’s light, the warmth turning frigid in the snap of a breath.

  Anje waited several minutes after Valterys left before stepping from his hiding place. He’d reached the last set of columns near the door when the air warmed and a coil of fire slithered around his neck. He turned slowly, dreading the sight of Rykoto in the flames.

  The god’s head danced above the tiled floor. Unlike the image presented to Valterys, Rykoto’s black hair hung in dirty lengths around his face. Purplish half-moons set off his dark eyes. His cracked lips opened to reveal yellow teeth in his rotting mouth.

  “Have you returned to us, my son?” Rykoto asked in a rasping voice vastly different from the smooth tones that came from his handsome face with Valterys.

  Rykoto’s true self alarmed the duke. Either the god had used all his power to exert his dominance over Valterys, or he was trying to manipulate Anje by garnering sympathy. Either way, the duke stayed wary.

  “No, Rykoto.” A note of sadness touched his words. “I followed Valterys here to learn of his plans regarding my niece.”

  “The Eirielle.”

  “Yes, the destroyer and savior.”
>
  “She will be mine.”

  “Not if I can help it.” Anje straightened his shoulders and awaited Rykoto’s lash. The dark god didn’t tolerate disobedience.

  “You are tainted by Nadra, boy. Why have you forsaken the Dark?”

  “I have forsaken nothing. Dark ShantiMari burns through my veins. Until this moment, I hated my heritage and tried to hide my Dark powers. I was ashamed of my family, believing I was as twisted as they. But that’s not true and I think you know it. In fact, I think you fear the good I could do with my Dark ShantiMari. That is why you show your true self to me—you think to punish me, to make me feel responsible for your imprisonment. I didn’t cause this, Rykoto.”

  “Not you, but your ancestors did.”

  “You deserved everything they gave you.”

  A hiss issued from the cracked lips, tearing them. Blood oozed down his chin. “You dare defy a god?”

  “I do. Whatever you and Valterys are planning, I pledge, with every fiber of my being, to stop. You will never return to the lands of Aelinae.”

  Searing heat filled the space and Rykoto lashed out at Anje with a fire-tipped spear aimed at his heart. Too accustomed to not using his power, Anje fumbled to call forth his ShantiMari. A bright circle of light appeared in front of him, absorbing the spear and turning it to dust.

  Rykoto roared a great plume of smoke, staining the ceiling of the temple.

  “Sleep now, Rykoto,” a small, feminine voice said. Tears sprang to Anje’s eyes. He couldn’t trust his hearing. A rainbow formed over the mad god, showering him with flecks of stardust and glitter. Slowly, much slower than Anje would have liked, the image of Rykoto weakened until there was nothing left of the god. Nothing but a smattering of shimmering dust on the floor. Even that disappeared within the space of a heartbeat.

  Anje stood with his mouth open, shock and heartbreak immobilizing him.

  The cluster of light floated near him and a tendril reached out to stroke his cheek. He leaned into the warmth of his wife’s touch. Tears spilled over his cheeks.

  “Be well, my love. I am with you, as ever I was in life.”