Ninth moon, first year of the reign of King Corvus
Red Gods’ temple, temple district, First Circle, Rilporin, Wheat Lands
Rillirin had never smelt anything so disgusting in her entire life. Not the cave-temple to the Red Gods in Eagle Height, not the stink of corpses in battle or the overflowing latrine pit from the overcrowding in the South Forts. The captain of the East Rank, whose name she had stubbornly refused to remember, and Pesh, the Krikite dedicated to the Red Gods, marched to either side of her as they proceeded through the smoky stench of the temple towards what had been – once – the godpool, where a familiar figure dressed in blue awaited, the torchlight throwing glints of fire into her hair.
The Blessed One stood with her arms crossed and her head thrown back with the old imperious arrogance Rillirin had always loathed, though her expression changed when she recognised her: ugly triumph blossomed in its place. ‘At last!’
The three of them came to a halt, Rillirin wheezing gently, her legs heavy from the brisk pace, the weight of collar and chain. The weight of her pregnancy – the babe seemed to have doubled in size in the last few weeks.
‘The vessel, Blessed One,’ Pesh said before the Ranker could speak. ‘The Godblind proved his worth to the cause a final time.’
‘And where is he now?’
‘Dead, I presume. We poisoned him and, in his already weakened state, I suspect he died, though I left before it happened. Time was of the essence to reach Pine Lock and find soldiers willing to stage an ambush on the word of a’ – he glanced at the captain – ‘savage.’
‘Dom isn’t dead,’ Rillirin said, more calmly than she felt. ‘You know nothing about him if you think something like poison could stop him.’
‘I understood her importance,’ the soldier interrupted, keen for his share of the glory in her capture. ‘We killed as many as we had to and captured as many as we could safely transport, Blessed One. As soon as I identified the woman, I brought her here.’
‘Aye,’ Rillirin spat even as Pesh opened his mouth to argue, ‘and aren’t you the fucking hero for dragging a pregnant woman across half the country, causing who knows how much damage to the child? Pair of fuckwits, both of you.’
She was sure her babe was in robust health, but Gilda’s warning all those months ago – that Lanta wanted it – was echoing in her head as it had done every day since her capture and through both failed escape attempts. Perhaps if the woman thought the babe was useless she’d leave them be. A vain hope, a fool’s hope, but all she had in the circumstances.
‘She’s a mouth on her,’ the Ranker added. ‘Been listening to it for a fortnight and I’m about sick of it, being honest.’
‘Then feel free to listen to it no longer,’ Lanta said. ‘Leave us. Both of you.’
They both gaped and Rillirin tutted. ‘Oh, did you think you’d be getting a prize?’ she asked sweetly. ‘Some gold or slaves of your own in appreciation? That’s not really how the Mireces do things, is it, Lanta? In fact, you should probably both give thanks to your dead goddess she hasn’t just killed you.’ She cocked her head at the Blessed One. ‘I need to piss, by the way.’
A man stalked out of the shadows and Rillirin recognised Valan, the king’s second, just before he slapped her across the face. ‘Address the Blessed One with respect.’ He snapped his fingers and the men who’d accompanied her all the way from Fox Lake melted away like snow.
Lanta put her hand on Valan’s arm and steered him gently to the side, then stepped forward until her flat stomach brushed Rillirin’s round one. ‘Such defiance,’ she murmured, her breath tickling Rillirin’s face. ‘Such fire.’
Not really, Rillirin wanted to tell her. I need a piss because I’m scared. But I’ll never let you see that, not ever again. She forced a sneer on to her face. ‘Such filth,’ she replied, pointing with her chin over Lanta’s shoulder. ‘Do you bathe in it?’
The Blessed One’s face was cold, but then a smile warmed it. ‘No. But you might, if you don’t watch your tongue.’ She put both palms on Rillirin’s belly, the gesture possessive, almost hungry. Valan moved around behind Rillirin and prevented her from recoiling as Lanta’s fingers roamed over her, measuring, gauging, one sliding down between her thighs.
Rillirin released her bladder and laughed when the other woman jerked away in disgust, an involuntary yelp bursting from her throat. ‘I did warn you,’ she said, even as Lanta slapped her other cheek with her wet hand. She was light-headed with hunger and exhaustion, fear crowding the edges of her thoughts, but she knew if she gave in now, gave in to the collar or the threats, that she’d never pull herself and her child free.
Valan’s hands on her upper arms squeezed hard enough to leave bruises, but they did nothing else. They couldn’t, not while she was pregnant. A few slaps, a few pinches, but no more. She was safe until the babe was born. Sort of. Rillirin vowed to make the most of that time – she’d find a way to escape; she’d find allies in the city somehow, among the slaves perhaps.
Lanta dried her hand deliberately on Rillirin’s sleeve. ‘Liris never minded your smart mouth, as I recall. I, on the other hand, am less forgiving.’ She nodded and Valan grabbed a fistful of Rillirin’s hair and yanked her head back. He put a knife beneath her chin and pressed until a bead of blood welled up.
‘You carry the seed of the Godblind? The deicide?’ he snarled into her upturned face. ‘You, the sister of our king, lowered yourself to rut like a fucking animal with the madman?’
‘Aye,’ Rillirin spat back, though she was trembling, ‘and I enjoyed it!’
Lanta clapped somewhere out of sight, her pealing laughter echoing through the temple. ‘He put spirit in you as well as a child,’ she said. ‘I look forward to breaking it. Again.’
‘You can try,’ Rillirin snarled, her eyes rolling. ‘He’s coming for me, the calestar, you can bet on that, and we’ll kill you all. Best lock up Gosfath while you’re at it; you wouldn’t want to lose another god, would you?’
Valan dragged on her hair again, the skin of his face tightening until it was pressed against the bones of his skull. Death was in that face and, despite her conviction, Rillirin felt a new surge of fear.
‘Do not dare to threaten your betters, slave, or the Red Father,’ Lanta snarled. ‘I don’t care if you are Corvus’s sister – I can and will make you suffer in ways you cannot imagine should you test me.’
Valan’s knife slid from her chin, clanked over the metal collar, and swept down to press against her stomach. Rillirin’s gasp was loud in the still air as the point dug in. Her brain knew they wouldn’t, but her body knew no such thing and she writhed with animal instinct to get away.
‘No, please, please, honoured. Please, Lan— Blessed One. I’m sorry, it was just talk.’
‘Then maybe you shouldn’t talk, eh, Rill?’ Lanta said. ‘Because we have options that won’t harm the child. The water barrel. The branding iron. Some of the men.’
Do your worst, bitch. Go on, do it. But the words were stubborn, refusing to leave Rillirin’s mouth, cowering behind her teeth. Her bound hands were shoving at Valan’s fist; she felt a hot sting as the knife edge cut the side of her palm.
‘Now, Valan,’ Lanta said in gentle admonishment, ‘please remove the knife. Our guest must be healthy and whole to deliver her daughter.’
He did as he was told and Rillirin straightened up, grunting at the flare of pain in her back. She shifted her weight to ease it and Valan’s hand found her upper arm again. He squeezed, adding another layer of bruises.
Lanta cupped Rillirin’s face in her palm. ‘Do you even know who this babe is, Rill? Do you know her destiny? She will belong to the whole world, and she will walk in glory all her days. In glory and in Blood.’
‘We are children of Light,’ Rillirin croaked. ‘My child will never be yours, never. And it could be a boy.’
‘Hush now, girl,’ Lanta said, her voice tender and even more frightening because of it. ‘Let’s get you fed and rested.’ Her nose wrinkled. ‘And bathed. There is much to do to prepare for the birth. So much. Valan, that slave of yours – bring her.’
‘Your will, Blessed One.’
Rillirin raised her chin, refusing to echo the words. Lanta’s smile was indulgent, as at a precocious child’s antics. ‘Valan will look after you for now, Rill. But we will talk soon, you and I and Gull and Holy Gosfath. Talk of the resurrection of the Dark Lady – and your role within it.’
The Blessed One’s fingers trailed across Rillirin’s belly again and she went cold. She didn’t know exactly what was planned, but she knew enough. She lunged with her bound hands for the woman’s throat; Valan hauled her back. ‘Don’t you touch my baby,’ she screeched, kicking out. ‘You won’t have it, you won’t. We are children of Light and nothing you do will change that. Keep your bloody hands away from us!’
Lanta dismissed them with a small, cruel smile and Valan began dragging her back towards the exit.
‘See you soon, Rill,’ the Blessed One called as they burst into fresh air.
Tears tangled in her throat, shortening her breath, though she refused to let them brighten her eyes. ‘My name,’ she growled, ‘is Rillirin.’