He brushes my hair back from my face. “That was where I kept my broadsword, a gift from the blacksmiths of Mount Damocles. It was made of Stygian steel. Quite effective against dark elves. I named it Dawnbreaker because if I was fast enough with the blade, it would block their deadly sun magic.”
“Where is it now?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. When I was taken, I left it behind on the battlefield. I haven’t seen it since.”
“Hmm. But everything else here is exactly how it was before?”
He nods. “Exactly the same.” His gaze darts around the room and then settles back on me. “At least one thing in this kingdom is the same.”
I catch the deep sadness that flits through his expression before he turns and heads for the bath.
7
Harvest of the Heart
ELOISE
“I just think it’s wasteful.” Nevina taps the table with her long pink fingernail next to a diagram of a proposed offering to the goddess Thanesia.
The gasps her words elicit from the other three royals gathered in her sitting room to plan the Harvest Festival make it clear that she’s in the minority. So far, I’ve remained silent as the group presented their plans to the queen. The truth is, I know nothing about the history of this festival and am the last person who should be putting in my two cents. I’ve been here barely twenty-four hours. Besides, I’m feeling awkward shoved into Nevina’s old yellow gown. Not only is the color garish on me, but my boobs are barely contained within the bodice, and I can scarcely breathe.
Beside me, the Lady of Aendor, Tempest, seems absolutely beside herself. The sophisticated brunette, wearing a bright-red dress the color of the sand in her coastal territory, places a hand over her heart. “The sacrifice to Thanesia during Harvest Festival has occurred every one hundred years since Stygarde’s formation. You can’t eliminate it.”
Nevina sniffs. “But we are New Stygarde. Our decisions today set the standard for what will happen in the future. Don’t you think killing a stag, only to leave the blood and meat to rot on a platform with the rest of these fruits and vegetables, seems out of touch when there are citizens in the west villages going hungry?”
Eudora, Lady of the Zephrine region that includes a multitude of villages to the west of the capitol region, certainly looks as if she’s starving. The bones of her gaunt features stand out even more under her pale skin and limp blond hair as she says, “Please, my queen, there would be plenty of food for the villages if the hunting restrictions?—”
“This is not the time or place for negotiations, Eudora,” the queen says with a snort and a shake of her head. A prickle runs through me at the look that passes between them. Nevina has completely shut her down, without even hearing what she has to say. “You and the other ladies of New Stygarde are here to plan a successful Harvest Festival. That is all.”
My gaze slides to Odette, the Lady of the Borderlands, whose territory stretches from just north of the capitol to the center of the dark forest. Much of the grain and fruit that will be used in this festival come from her region. I assume she’ll have an opinion on the matter.
“It is an important part of shade history, my queen,” she says in a deep rumble of a voice. I don’t miss the way her coffee-colored eyes dart to her hands, her mahogany fingers tipped in harvest red. She’s afraid of Nevina, pure and simple. All these women are. It’s subtle. Clearly, everyone here is trying to act like we’re having a discussion—merely coming to an agreement on the details—but my intuition is telling me there are three mice at a table having a discussion with a cat. “A stag is the customary choice.”
Nevina gives a belabored sigh. “Back to what is customary again. Why can’t we make a new custom? Maybe a carving of a sacrifice that can be used again and again.”
The other women gasp at the mere thought.
“Eloise, as a neutral third party, what do you think?” Nevina turns to me with an exasperated expression, as if she is not the one completely in control of the conversation. She wants me, as her new friend and the beneficiary of her hospitality, to back her up.
Crap. I’m tempted to make some excuse about why I can’t pitch in my opinion, but unfortunately, my new vampire temper won’t allow me the out. It’s the neutral third-party comment. It grates on me. First of all, it’s three against one. Three royals with the most experience regarding the festival are telling her that the sacrifice is necessary, and she’s not listening. Worse, she’s trying to bully them into compliance. And second, am I truly a neutral party when my mate was once a prince of this kingdom and mentioned that the Harvest Festival was his favorite time of year? I don’t want to be the Grinch who stole shade Christmas.
Besides, putting me on the spot like this is wrong. She needs no help from me. All she has to do is order her way to be done, and so shall it be. But I sense she doesn’t want to be the bad guy. Or the only bad guy. Well, if she thinks I’m the girl to take the fall for her, she’s barking up the wrong tree. At the moment, Nevina is sounding a hell of a lot like Valeska, and I want no part of that kind of leadership.
“Of course,” I respond, turning my full attention toward Lady Aendor. “Tempest, can you tell me more about the history of the Harvest Festival and the sacrifice? I’m new to the kingdom and not familiar with it.”
Tempest smiles when she sees Nevina’s scowl. As I guessed, the queen has worked hard not to understand this tradition.
“Thanesia is the patron goddess of Tenebris. Shades believe that she formed Tenebris from the Darklands themselves and that she guards the gate between the living and the dead. She made this world for her favored creations, creatures who thrived at night. Creatures like shades. Every one hundred years, we offer her and her three nochthunds the sacrifice of meat and blood from an unblemished red stag along with our finest fruits and grains during a festival marked by feasting and dancing. In exchange, she blesses the fertility of our mates and the abundance of our fields and our prey. This way of worship has gone on for centuries. To eliminate it would be both heartbreaking and terrifying to the citizens of Stygarde.”
I nod. “I see.”
Eudora doesn’t miss the opportunity to speak her mind. “It’s a day for all citizens of Stygarde to come together. A reminder that we are all cut from the same cloth, made by the same maker. Our accomplishments belong to all of us. Our hardships are the responsibility of all of us.”
Odette lays a hand on her heart. “I remember attending as a child. I don’t think I can stress enough the importance of this sacrifice to the community. Even in times of war, we never missed a festival. And in times of change, things like this give people hope and stability. It shows that the palace understands the needs of the common shade.”
Nevina is fuming. Her cheeks are stained red, and her blue gaze is hard as ice. Although she’s waiting patiently for my response, I can tell that she’d love for an excuse to end this discussion right here. Hmm. Yesterday, she made it sound like the people of Stygarde hadn’t accepted her, but what I’m hearing is she hasn’t done her due diligence learning about her new people and their traditions. And as much as I don’t want to piss her off my first day here, I can’t let this one slide.
“Wow, I was unaware of the importance of this festival to the people of New Stygarde. Now that I’ve heard your thoughts, I have to agree with you. The sacrifice and harvest festivities must take place.” Nevina opens her mouth, and I add quickly, “Of course, if the queen is concerned about waste, perhaps the sacrifice could be donated to the villages after a reasonable amount of time has passed.” Eudora’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears. “If the stag is butchered at midday, surely it would still be edible after the festivities have ended.”
