The words hit like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. I swayed where I stood, my nails biting half-moons into my palms.
He called this a choice.
He didn’t understand the choices women like us had.
None.
I shook my head, the motion small, helpless. “But youknowwhy she’s doing this. Her village—”
“She is doing it,” he said firmly, as if that settled everything. “And you—” His voice curved slightly, the faintest trace of a smile at the edge of it. “You should be proud.”
He lifted his goblet. “It’s an honor, my beauty. Your friend will be remembered. She’ll be a hero.”
My lips parted, but no sound came out.
He turned away and lifted his hand, two fingers crooking in the air, so slight a motion, so unhurried, that it didn’t register as the beginning of the end.
The High Priestess’s voice rang out. “Bring forth the sacred hand.”
From the far edge of the hall, a man stepped forward. White robes swept the marble, a single strip of crimson paint marking his shaved head from crown to nape like an unhealed wound. Charms rattled at his throat—sun discs dulled with age, feathers, and small bones still tinted with what looked like the stain of old blood. In his hands he bore a blade curved like the crescent moon, black iron with a tip kissed in gold, gleaming as if it already salivated for what it would taste.
The High Priestess lifted her chin toward the assembled court, her robes pooling around her feet.
“Before Menelaus, our god and king, we offer this gift. This woman gives herself freely so that this union will be blessed with fruitfulness, victory, and a golden age of peace.”
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Blessed by whom? Him?
The idea that these people believed a sacrifice was needed so their king would bless his own union was absurd, so unlikely that it scraped against every instinct I had, every lesson I’d ever learned.
“Anysa,” I called again desperately, like my utterance of her name would do something. Her head turned as if it pained her, and her gaze found mine.
Gods.
Her eyes were wide and wet, nothing like they’d been yesterday, when she had sat in my chambers, laughing softly about the wedding and thanking me for saving her life. There was no laughter now. Just fear, pure and choking, as the man in white closed the distance, his blade gleaming menacingly.
I bit down on my tongue in panic, coppery blood filling my mouth. My mind tripped over itself, scrambling for words, for a way to stop this before it was too late. If I lunged now, if I screamed … if I threw myself between them—
“Then you would dishonor her,” Menelaus said. I glanced at him, not sure if I’d spoken out loud or if he’d just read my mind, but either way there was clear reproach … and warning in his voice.
Apparently, a queen’s life could only be offered once … and that right was already spent.
I turned back to where the High Priestess’s “sacred hand” had stopped in front of Anysa. He turned and gazed devoutly up at the dais. At us.
The firelight danced across his pale face, and when he smiled, it was the kind of smile that I imagined belonged in a battlefield. Exultant and wild and drenched in blood.
“Your Majesty,” he said, his voice calm, sonorous, and far too gentle for the blade he carried. “All omens point to favor for this union. The sacrifice satisfies our ancestors.” His gaze slid to me, heavy and invasive, like something sick and crawling had been dropped down my spine. “May your marriage be marked by strength, fire, and unquestioned obedience.”
I fought the urge to retch all over the floor.
“Proceed,” Menelaus said.
The wordobediencerang in my ears like the snap of a collar. I stepped back, just a fraction, my fingers twitching at my sides as the sacred hand turned his attention back to Anysa’s shaking form.
I tried to move. I did. My legs tensed, but the king’s fingers clamped around my wrist, dragging me down into the throne beside him. My body hit the cushion hard, and I barely caught myself from falling.
“You will not disgrace this moment,” he said soothingly. “This is what is required. This is what she wants.”
I forced myself to look.
