“The fountain has been poisoned, and I mean to fix it. The curse, the plague, it's all the doing of fae.”
Chaplain scoffs, his fingers glowing orange as he fists them at his sides. “You speak with so much blasphemy.”
“It’s not blasphemy.” I try to pull my dress from under his stance, but he steps forward, stomping the material down once more.
“I should have gotten rid of you like the others. Poor Aisha gave up her sanity for obsession to serve Goddess Celeste, and you mean to hang her by the noose. Meanwhile, you skip your prayer sessions, speak of worshiping our rival goddess,Goddess Nature, and now you act as though this plague was not goddess bound.”
His words hit me like rocks meant to stone to death. Each syllable, each roll of the tongue, a lashing meant to destroy.
“This isn’t goddess bound.” My voice is hoarse, fear rising before I push it down and speak with my chin held high. “This whole thing was a ploy. You have to believe me. It’s a lie made by a witch to secure a position and a poison for...” For what exactly? A shot at a king she would never have? Revenge for losing her right to a crown that was never hers? It was all for what end?
“Aisha was a Goddess-believing girl who put her faith in a witch. She made a trade for dark magic that took from her in a way she couldn’t imagine. That girl can no longer love. She doesn’t know how; she can only obsess. Obsess over a king she once loved and obsess over a father whose approval she could never quite get.” Chaplain pauses, rubbing his hands together like I’ve seen Iri do more times than I could count. Fiery sparks rain down from his palms. “Sounds a little familiar, don’t you think? A girl who will never have a King or her father's approval.”
My heart pounds inside my chest, a war cry of nerves and the satisfaction of realization. “What did you do with the others?”
“Much kinder things than I think I will do with you.”
I glance around. The streets here are empty but that doesn’t mean that people aren’t watching. That doesn’t mean they won’t come when they hear me scream. He won’t dare make a move on me so publicly.
“Aisha could make the people believe the prophecy if she married Iri and the kingdom prospered once again. She could bring them back to the one true faith: Goddess Celeste. Most importantly, she could be controlled. She had her uses.Youdo not. You should have stayed on that rutting island.” His lips teeter into an unpleasant sneer. “The people cannot have relief of this plague until Aisha marries the King. And she can’t do that until these people have broken and become fully devout in their faith. There can only be one true faith! And that is not your goddess! The plague has to be seen through. The people believe in it. They need it!”
All of this because hisgoddessis the right goddess and mine is not?
He’s insane. Completely unstable.
And completely deadly.
But they have been broken. The citizens who remain are nearly mad, consumed with thoughts of finally being free from the death they have seen here.
I make to pull on my dress again, and the Chaplain tsk-tsks. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“Aisha isn’t a water fae. People won’t have faith when she doesn’t meet the criteria for your fake plague.”
“Oh, it won’t be hard to prove that she has some relation to someone who had water magic down the line of her ancestors. Minor detail.”
“You’re a fool. I’ve already married the King.” I scream and yank my dress as hard as I can, freeing it from under his foot. Momentum from the release carries me backward.
Fire stings at my throat, the sensitive scales of my gills covered by the hands of the Chaplain as he swiftly grabs me by the neck. A choked cry carries from my lips.
Smoke from my singing skin blurs my vision. Or is it rain? Through the pain, I blink back tears, coughing on the burning remnants of oxygen I try to take in. Something moves above the chaplain. Distorted colors of black and red, a distant blot in the sky. The image above becomes clearer.
Black burning wings. With the thunder of the storm at his back and a flash of lightning crackling through the sky, King Iri plummets toward the chaplain. Their bodies collide, pulling the burning hands away from my tattering flesh. I shriek at the feeling of skin peeling away with it. Except it isn't a shriek. It’s nothing as I suffocate on the fire in my lungs.
Together the men stand in a tornado of movement. Arms and legs reaching out to strike. A punch that lands on Chaplain’s jaw sends saliva and dots of blood through the air. The high arc of an elbow that cuts across Iri’s eyebrow drawing blood like tears to fall against his cheek.
“Have you just confessed to murder, Chaplain?” Iri growls. “Murdering every woman I’ve ever called my betrothed? That alone is an act of treason against your kingdom. The fact that you’ve laid hands on your Queen another, an even more punishable crime in my book.”
“All will be righted by Goddess Celeste in time.” He swings himself forward, tearing toward Iri’s wings, only narrowly missing as Iri tucks them at his side. Chaplain chuckles. “You may be fast now, King Iri, but you’ve drunk from our waters. Your strength isn’t what it could be. While I have never drunk the poisoned water.”
He strikes in one quick move.
Pain thrums against my neck, my head heavy with torment, and the rush of my blood through my veins pounds inside my ears. Silver blood trickles against the ground where I lie. I can see it in every flash of lightning. I can feel it, sticky against my hands. The urge to cup my throat is strong, but the pain of touching it even stronger. So I writhe in my pain, my eyes fighting to stay open as I cling to the hope of my husband.
Chaplain is right. As they roll across the ground, fires burning against each other, I can hear Iri’s cry of pain. Chaplain is seconds faster, his magic degrees hotter.
Iri falls, black ash smudged over his body, burnt skin sagging, and clothing tattered and torn. The air in his lungs wheezes out as he makes eye contact with me. Hot, fresh tears roll unwanted from my eyes.
So this is how our story would end?
