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The Renounced Vow

Thalia

“I took a vow of celibacy, Father. You were there.”

Father lowered his head. Beside him, one of the elders shifted on the bench, scraping its legs against the floorboards. The other two watched my father. Go on, then. Tell me I misunderstood. I’m standing right here.

Mud had dried along the hem of my skirt. I’d hurried down from the shrine when the summons came, asking who was ill, if I should bring anything. Nobody had answered me. Nobody had thought to warn me they’d found me a husband.

“The Ambassador of Asphodelia has agreed to the marriage,” Father began, rubbing his palms against his thighs. “The clans believe it’ll help secure the peace.”

“And when did they agree to ask me? Before or after you gave him my name?”

He wouldn’t look up. I wanted to lean across the table and lift his chin, the way he used to lift mine when I’d done something wrong.

I’d been chosen for the shrine as a child, one of the few humans who could reach the living current of the Endless Forests. The maidens had raised me, taught me to heal and keep the rites. I’d expected to grow old among them, still arguing with patients who wouldn’t rest and women who insisted I needed to eat more.

Other women went to bride markets, took the hands of the monsters who bid for them and made their choice. Nobody courted a shrine maiden. No man was allowed to take my hand and see if we were a match. Father had known that. He’d been proud of it.

But none of that mattered anymore.

“The Blight has stopped advancing,” the elder next to my father said. “You know what that means for Melia. The ambassador is holding it back, but our people still refuse to trust him. Seeing a shrine maiden beside him might change their minds. If Asphodelia loses interest in this peace treaty…”

He trailed off. I knew. I’d knelt on streambanks that should have been green and pressed my hands into cold mud. Nothing I did could make so much as a blade of grass grow there. The toxic rot of the Blight killed everything, choking the living voice of the Endless Forests. It was so wretched and vicious the thought of it almost silenced my anger.

Almost, but not quite.

“If he needs help, stand beside him yourselves,” I snapped. “Sit at his table. Let the people see you do it.”

“They trust you, Thalia,” the elder replied. “They’d listen to you.”

Of course they would. People who wouldn’t share a table still brought their sick to us. They knelt in our grove and asked us to bless their children.

Father was headman of a poor village of humans, dryads and a few elderly satyrs. He could settle trivial arguments between neighbours. But the satyr clans who ruled the region barely listened to him. Let Kleitos’s daughter put on her shrine robes, though, and they’d make room for her.

Once, I’d liked being able to help him. Forests help me—I’d been a fool.

“His name is Eryx,” Father said. “He’s a gorgon, but he’s agreed to keep his eyes covered. You’ll be safe with him.”

A gorgon. I almost wanted to laugh. One look into his uncovered eyes could kill me, and I was supposed to sleep beside him. I’d never had to think about sharing a bed. Would a Blighted One even be warm? I didn’t know. I’d never seen his face. And Father was telling me I’d be safe.

In the Forests, what died fed the roots and fostered new growth. The Blighted Ones lived outside that cycle. They didn’t age and die like the rest of us. I’d been taught to fear them. Now they wanted me to stand beside a Blighted One in my shrine robes, where everyone could see me, and welcome him.

“How long?” I demanded. “How long have you been arranging this?”

“Weeks. I kept hoping there’d be another way.”

Weeks. Had he known the last time I came home? What had I told him? Probably some mundane detail about the shrine. I’d chattered away while he sat there knowing. Maybe I’d even made him laugh. My face burned, and I stepped back from the table.

“You could’ve asked me to help you find a solution. You used to respect my counsel.”

“I thought I could spare you the worry,” he protested. “Just until we’d settled it. I wanted to bring you something better than this.”

“Was I supposed to thank you for having it all settled?”

“No. Thalia, please.” He reached across the table, stopping short of my hand. His eyes were wet. “I should have told you. I know that now. Can you forgive me?”