“You have chosen a new tactic. Instead of begging for your life, you have decided to lie.” I nod again. “You are pretending not to be the Eryx Oblation.”
The Eryx Oblation
SALLIE ROSE
Well,moist.
New Rule: I have really got to stop sighing with relief before anyone from this kingdom is done talking.
I don’t want to know. Like, I have feelings in my gut, chest, and head, yelling at me that I don’t want to know.
Nonetheless, I find myself having to ask, “The Eryx Oblation?”
The Stone Fae King somehow manages to look even taller and haughtier as he explains, “Every twenty-five years, the Eryx Moon God demands a sacrifice. That sacrifice—the Eryx Oblation—marks the start of a new campaign. It fuels the kingdom’s dominance and appeases our most ruthless god. I am the second son, rising after the death of Therion the Great. And your sacrifice will usher in our most triumphant era yet.”
I speak just enough unnecessarily dramatic Royalese to suss that I only need to follow up on one of the words in that speech full of pomp and circumstance. “And bysacrifice, you mean what exactly?”
“After our wedding, I will slit your throat with the dagger of Eryx and place you in the altar’s Offering Bowl to bleed out. Your sacrificial blood will be given to our most ruthless moon god. It will seal my ascension to the Blood Crystal Throne and fuel my future conquests—of this land and any others where I choose to impose my reign over the next twenty-five revolutions around the suns. Serving as this Eryx Oblation is your only purpose. The sole reason you exist.”
Oh.
So…
“I’m beginning to see why none of the Stone Brides ever sent a follow-up letter,” I mutter. Then I ask,“Is there a bathroom or something? I have really got to pee.”
Long silence. Then he turns the lamplight to illuminate a single pail, sitting against a stone wall.
“Thank the moons!” I say, racing over to it.
I’m almost grateful for Seraphyne and that sentry I refuse to call by his proper title not bothering to put me in a new pair of underwear before stuffing me into this dress. Turning my back on the Stone Fae King, I slide the bucket into place, then, after some fumbling with the gown’s skirt and copping the squat I usually reserve for garden magic on root vegetables, at least one of today’s problems is solved.
However, I find the other, much larger one still glaring down at me when I step back into the lamplight.
“I was told to expect tears,” he says, picking up where we left off before the pee break. “Also, pleas and some version of ‘You can’t do this to me.’ Though, obviously, we can and have been doing so for hundreds of solars.”
“Oh my moons, I am obviously not some dainty princess!”
This guy, like, emanates danger. But I can’t keep myself from exploding on him. “Could youpleasepull your royal head out of your ass and just listen to me?”
This next part I over-enunciate, just in case he’s having trouble hearing me past the gap in my teeth. “You’ve got thewrong girl. Therealprincess swapped me in.She’sthe one who’s supposed to be your virgin-bride sacrifice.Not me!”
His gray brow knits, and he tilts his head in the same way my father does when he finds an insect he’s never seen before in the gardens.
“So, you are not a virgin?” he asks.
I jerk back, then blink. “Well, um… yes, I am technically a virgin. Never even been kissed, actually,” I admit with an embarrassed wince. “But I’m not a princess. In fact, I have a letter to prove I’m telling the truth.”
He falters, and an unreadable look passes over his stony face. But then he suddenly straightens to demand, “You say you have a letter that proves you are not Princess Seraphyne. Where is it? Present your evidence.”
“Yeah, about that…” I grimace. “I mean, Ihad a letter.One of your mean Mountain Goats snatched it, crumbled it up, and just threw it away. But if you let me go outside and search for it…”
I realize he has eyebrows when he lifts the left one above his glowing red eye. “You know precisely where he tossed it?”
“I mean, the general vicinity, for sure.” I can feel my own eyebrows bunching together as I add, “As long as the coach is still there.”
“And if it isn’t?”
Then I’m completely buried without seeds.
