CHAPTER 1
They said the gods could be appeased through prayer.
Sacrifice.
That Apollo’s wrath might be soothed by spilling a few precious drops of vestal blood upon his sacred altar. Splitting virgins on the holy pricks of the priests made mystics by Apollo's divine touch.
They’d promised her sacrifice would protect the holy city of Delphi from destruction.
But the Oracle hadn’t lived to see the city burn.
And now Kore knew the touch of a manandthe taste of human ashes.
Shifting, she pressed her back against damp wooden boards, pulling a quiet hiss between clenched teeth as her sodden, dank little world tilted violently to the left. Her every movement echoed by a metallic clink of shifting chains as she slid to the end of her tether.
War.
It was as foreign to a priestess of Apollo as it was beloved of Ares. The women of her temple were called on to bless a hunt. To sanction new buildings. To fight disease, not… notAthenians.
Shivering, Kore tucked tighter around herself and stared into the gloom as everything shifted again. To the right. Rocking to a nauseating rhythm older than the gods themselves.
Delphi would be rebuilt. A new Oracle born and named so the Spartans might worship at Apollo’s altar and throw their virgins across his mighty cock.
None of it mattered. Not to the survivors huddled in the hull of an Athenian trireme as it skated through the waves, left to cower beneath the surface of the Aegean Sea. In the dark. Sprayed by salty filth as it dripped down from the decks above.
It didn’t matter to the women who’d been taken—the Spartan army wouldn’t march for a handful of soiled priestesses who’d already given their maidenhead to Apollo. Worthless women whose blood hadn’t been enough to save the holy city.
Sold.
The cry of the auctioneer still echoed in her head, even after these long weeks of hard travel.
Her worth was weighed in silver now.
Precisely two hundred and sixteen drachmas.
Scarcely more than six months’ wages for a skilled Athenian carpenter—the man with a heavy paunch and ruddy cheeks had told her so. Bragging as rough fingers had speared between her legs. Probing at dry flesh as his apprentice inquired about her use and lifted her breasts to gauge their weight. Desperate to know when he might afford such a luxury as a personal whore. If he might use her himself, or if he should save his coin for one of his own.
The shock of it all had grown… weary. Beaten down by cruel hands and dulled by the passing of time, unmarked by the sun.
Now, all she could muster was a measured puff of breath. The only sign of discomfort that marked her among the living.
Most of the other priestesses chained to the base of the mast were too quiet to muster even that.
A distant shout brought her eyes up. Where faint, flickering light could be seen between the boards of the rowing deck, and thundering feet darted back and forth as a panic ignited above.
The ship juddered as if struck. Groaning with the weight of the waves, she tried to buck back to the surface.
Clutching at her chains, Kore fumbled for purchase. Trying to ground herself, even now. So far from the soil of the only home she’d ever known. Already half swallowed by the Aegean.
Above, the rowers made a valiant effort to push through the storm. She could feel them gaining momentum with each pulsing lurch forward.
Her fingers twisted in the familiar pattern she’d been taught when calling upon Apollo’s grace.
But Apollo had forsaken her.
And Delphi’s ashes had blocked out her last chance to glimpse the sun before she’d been dropped into the hull and forgotten. Cast out. Thrust into murky shadows flickering in the deep.
Frigid fingers twisted in a new pattern, then. Hesitant. Desperate. Calling on a different lord to deliver her from suffering. More powerful. Ancient.
