The acolytes met supplicants at the door and required them—by force if necessary—to recite this Oath of Atonement. I hadn’t felt the burn of power at his words, so it was not a spell. Priests and priestesses did not possess magic or power of their own. Any that was wrought, like the blood bubbling continuously in that foundation several yards away, was an act of one or more of the Seven Gods.
At some point, I’d receive food and a bed. That was the promise made to all supplicants who entered the temple in advance of attempting the gates. This temple belonged to the first of the seven, the Mercy Gate. How long before I’d be forced out the rear door of the temple and through the gate? What other rituals would I endure before? How much rest and food—how much would they fatten me up before the slaughter?
A thousand questions, and yet I asked not a single one.
My stomach grumbled, so I conceded on one point. “Where is the food?”
The acolyte’s face broke into a wide smile. Dark God save me. The boy had dimples. And now that he’d accomplished his duty, the worry had melted away. The priest or priestess who oversaw the temple must have been a strict disciplinarian, if the fear he’d displayed moments before was any indication—and such a departure from his usual manner.
He tilted his head toward the center of the temple to indicate I should follow him.
“There are seats around the fountain. The other acolytes will wait upon you.” He wrinkled his nose. “Try to ignore the blood. Food isn’t allowed by the altars.”
The scent of the fountain intensified as we moved away from the burning altars that lined the perimeter of the temple.
“I don’t mind blood,” I said.
He looked at me again, closer this time. But still, no alarm bells sounded in his mind, the wide smile now softer but completely unconcerned. Most of the supplicants who entered the temple were starving; they wouldn’t be much of a threat. I was bigger than most, even with my short stature. My curved hips and soft stomach never seemed to change, no matter what food was available. Another gift from the Dark God, I supposed.
Or would it be a hindrance at the gate? No one knew what the gates entailed. Each was different, and rumors said that some even varied depending on who was attempting to pass through them at any given time.
Still, I didn’t ask. Not that the acolyte gave me much of an opening.
“It has been slow the past week, but you are the seventh to enter the temple, so she’ll send you through the gate tomorrow.”
Not much of a respite for the weary. But I dissected the other information he’d offered up in that singular sentence. They waited until there were seven supplicants before advancing them to the Mercy Gate all at once. I would have six competitors, and all of them had enjoyed more time in the warmth and security of the temple than I had, as the last to enter. At least one had been there for a full week. Andshewould be the one to send us through the gate—the superior who so terrified the acolyte was female. A priestess.
“After you eat, you must visit each of the altars, then you can do what you want until the evening.” He leaned in, lifting his hand to cup his mouth as he added a conspiratorial whisper. “Most come back for more food.”
A smile tugged at my lips. He was probably this loquacious with every supplicant who entered the temple. But it was so refreshing. I hadn’t seen a smile like that in… decades. Maybe even centuries. I did not have a heart to warm, but something in my stomach reacted. It was probably just the hunger.
The gurgling of the blood fountain intensified as we neared the center of the temple. It rose far above our heads toward the domed roof, taller than the height of two men standing on one another’s shoulders. Taller even than the massive brute from the tavern—who was somewhere in this temple. He’d entered only minutes before I did.
My eyes snapped down from the flowing scarlet fountain to the ring of stone benches surrounding it. The spindly man who’d entered earlier that morning sat far to the right, stuffing gobs of food down his throat and chewing with his mouth open. His eyes darted between the blood fountain and the wide-shouldered man sitting a few feet to his left. But that man hardly seemed to notice the cowering supplicant on his right. All of his attention was focused onhisleft, on a lithe female who speared chunks of meat with her dagger before bringing them to her mouth. Her dark hair was cut unusually short for a woman, falling in uneven layers that revealed her ears.
Her pointed ears.
Fae.
Rage spiraled through my body, up from the pits of my stomach, through my chest, into my arms as the anger gave way to power and my mouth opened on a spell to freeze the blood in her very veins. But before I could lift my hands or curl my tongue around that first syllable, a dark mass slammed into me.
CHAPTER 8
“Tomin,take her to Pava’s altar,” a calm voice ordered. The voice belonged to a swirl of deep purple velvet, the same one that had bodily shoved me away from the blood fountain.
She was too tall for me to see over her shoulder, but even those billowing purple robes weren’t wide enough to keep me from leaning around her to get at the fae female. A hand shot out. Unlike the acolyte, the priestess did not flinch at my snarl as she grabbed my arm.
She stared down her slightly crooked nose directly at me, her eyes sliding right past the coven mark on my forehead. “Supplicants are protected within the walls of the temple. If you kill another, they will kill you.” She nodded to the guards still flanking the doors.
I gnashed my teeth like an animal caught in a snare. “They could try.”
She looked vaguely amused. Like she would have enjoyed watching that spectacle. But she merely lifted her shoulders. “The gods will have their due.”
I twisted my arm away, and this time she let me go. My ears detected no shift in the sounds of eating and murmuring behind her. The other supplicants weren’t paying us any attention.
Good. She’ll never see me coming.
But even though she’d released me, the priestess did not move out of my path.
