A haggard woman in black rags broached the parade. I tensed despite not believing her to be a real threat. Red geranium petals flew from her bony hands. “She’s fine.”
Some still had hope, it seemed, but many had lost faith in Scorpio—making them the ultimate prey for lurking apostates. It was only a matter of time before the people banded together—apostai or not—if things continued this way.
Before long, we arrived safely inside the temple, and the ceremony commenced at once. Gregorios and Maryn instructed the audience to hush before Cyrene strode her way up the aisle. Felaf and I rigidly trailed several steps behind.
Inside the ancient structure, utter silence permeated the saged air. Black flags, banners, and beeswax candles decorated the interior, all matching the onyx floors. The reflection of the flickering sconces glittered against the colossal stone columns. These walls bore witness to so much history.
All twelve Scorpion barons and their families were in attendance, in addition to dozens of renowned acolytes, scholars and courtiers from across the queendom—each dressed in Scorpio’s sacred color.
The front row of seats, specially reserved for the eleven other royals of Gaianos, remained glaringly empty. Not a single royal deigned to show—and therefore, no one from their courts.
Their absence spoke volumes and served as a continued insult to Scorpio. It had been several years since any royal made an appearance. To all other royals, the disrespect would have been enough to start a trade war at least. Not that we had much to offer for trade these days. The queens of Cancer and Pisces had sent us water shipments. Most were distributed to areas that had depleted their underground aquifers, but it wasn’t sustainable. Not when the skylands themselves were dying.
Cyrene’s parents, brother, and cousin stood off to the side of the temple’s ritual basin, awaiting their imminent death. The depth of the basin was impossible to determine, serving as a magical conduit to Scorpio’s divine energy. If Cyrene succeeded, she would wield her newfound power and drown each of them in the dark pool beneath the altar of Scorpio. If Cyrene failed, her family would still be forced to follow her into the depths of that basin.
Any who descended into the ancient water would perish, save for a queen who could harnesshudroto save herself. A guardian potentially could, with abilities at least, but no such thing had ever been attempted.
To interfere was a violation of the Treaty.
Cyrene’s heartbeats pounded in my own ears, drowning the crowd outside. We neared the base of the altar—an ornate, onyx statue of a faceless woman-turned-scorpion that stretched as high as the domed ceiling.
Felaf and I sank to our knees with our heads slightly bowed as Cyrene approached Maryn, whose arms were extended for Cyrene’s garments. Several drawn-out seconds passed before Cyrene disrobed. It was an important yet vulnerable part of theceremony to bare her glyphed body for all to see. There was no gawking or leering during such a sacred ritual.
Maryn held a black pillow in her hands. A golden torque necklace with the royal topaz rested at its center. Felaf, Gregorios, Cyrene and I had retrieved it from beneath the palace before using the arch.
Gregorios took the necklace and clasped it around Cyrene’s neck. He proceeded to murmur the same words all seers before him had spoken to their queens for thousands of years.
“Surrender to the burden of our element. Upon resurfacing, your queendom will be waiting for you. Your guardians will protect you. Your seer will guide you. Give credence to Scorpio.”
“Give credence to Scorpio,” Cyrene croaked. She glanced at her family, shoulders shaking. Tears of pride welled in their eyes, each of them willing to make the sacrifice expected of them.
Cyrene stepped into the basin. Her legs waded further as the inky liquid rose higher and higher until it swallowed her whole.
The room inhaled a collective breath.
An acolyte began the ringing of the bell. Its slow, haunting chime rang throughout the dark temple. He would ring the bell eleven more times, every ten seconds. If Cyrene did not emerge after the twelfth bell toll, then it was over.
Another bell rang. And still, no sign of life from beneath the water. It was early morning, and yet the dim warmth made it appear nearly midnight.
Over a minute had passed. The final ringing of the bell was approaching. Without her powers, she couldn’t hold her breath much longer. All was calm and eerily silent from the surface, but beneath, Cyrene’s heart hammered frantically.
And then I heard it. From the way Felaf tensed beside me, I knew she did too.
The desperate, short inhales as the air in Cyrene’s lungs ran out. Her ragged chokes filling with water. The strained gurgles as her body convulsed. Her suffering was quick but agonizing to listen to.
Hector had once warned me how gruesome it would be to hear what everyone else in the room could not. I had not thought to warn Felaf, having forgotten this was her first ceremonial trial. “Grind your teeth,” I suggested. “It helps.”
The twelfth and final bell tolled, and Cyrene did not reappear. All was quiet both above and below the basin. In her place, the talisman floated to the surface. Whatever elemental magic existed in that ancient water had loosened the torque from Cyrene’s neck.
The acolyte set down the bell as another appeared with an extended hook to retrieve the necklace. They lifted it from the water and brought it to Gregorios’s reaching hands. Once secured, he placed it back on the black pillowcase.
Maryn’s eyes lingered a beat longer than necessary on the topaz. As queen regent, she was not a Chosen. And a talisman directly in the hands of anyone but a Chosen was treason.
She looked to Felaf and me for confirmation. With Cyrene’s heartbeat no longer audible to our ears, we shook our heads once in unison. Maryn whispered to Gregorios, confirming Cyrene’s death.
The seer’s deep voice broke the silence. “It is with great sorrow that we announce Scorpio has forsaken the life of Cyrene, who was not deemed worthy enough to wield the element of Scorpio and rule in her place. May the Astrals guide her in her next life.”
Maryn didn’t skip a beat before prompting, “It is time for the offering of our Chosen princess’s blood family to Scorpio. There will be a feast to follow in the Great Hall of the Royal Palace tohonor Cyrene and her family’s sacrifice for those who wish to attend…”
