It didn’t take Nelay long to find him, with his head covered in tattoos marking him as the King of Kings. Zatal knelt before the altar of the Goddess, which rested in the center of a calm pool. He lit his own prayers on paper, which an acolyte must have folded for him. The phoenix shape matched the gold mantle on his chest.
The king had only arrived at the Winter Palace last week, after fleeing the Summer Palace in Idara’s strongest city of Mubia, which had fallen in a matter of days. He’d brought his mistress and their two children to the safety of the holy city of Thanjavar and the comforts of the Winter Palace.
The clans had made themselves comfortable in their stolen city. Nelay’s spies said their enemy would march on Arcina any day, and that Zatal planned on marching back out to meet them soon. Nelay had seen the king as she performed her fire dance, but that was from a distance. Now she took the opportunity to study him as he rose to his feet and approached.
He sported all the latest fashions of Idara—a close-cropped mustache and a perfectly curled and oiled beard. He was in his mid-forties, with a hint of gray touching his temples. He wore fine linen robes and trousers with a wide, pleated fabric belt under a golden phoenix buckle. The toes of his calf-high brown boots curved toward the ceiling.
Before her stood the man who just a few short years ago had ruled most of the known world. He’d conquered kingdoms, tribes, and empires simply by recruiting power-hungry natives and turning them traitor. While they created internal strife, he positioned his armies and attacked without mercy. Then he left the traitors in charge, making it clear the only thing standing between them and their angry people were his armies. His brilliant and ruthless tactics had worked. At least for a time.
As Nelay looked at him now, she felt nothing but disdain. He had overreached. His tactical errors had cost hundreds of thousands of Idaran lives and placed their once-great nation on the precipice of collapse. Had placed her parents in peril.
Nelay and the high priestess bowed. “Zatal, King of Kings,” Suka said by way of introduction, though Nelay was fairly certain the title no longer applied, since all the vassal kings had rebelled against Zatal and routed his armies.
Probably wasn’t prudent to bring that up.
The king bowed back, his expression reluctant. “This is the acolyte?”
“Yes,” Suka replied.
He grunted. “She is . . . not what I expected.”
Nelay bristled.
“Tread carefully, King of Kings.” Suka’s voice was filled with scorn. “A viper is dangerous the moment it hatches.”
Suppressing a shudder at the mention of snakes, Nelay glanced between the two. It was clear they were speaking about something besides the Clansmen, but what danger could be worse than the armies on their doorstep?
“Do you insult me, King Zatal?” Nelay asked flatly.
He looked her over, his gaze lingering on her breasts, but with surprise rather than lust. “No, I do not.”
Zatal turned to Suka. “I will speak to her alone.”
“Of course.” The high priestess bowed. Just before she turned to leave, her gaze swept over the image of the Goddess of Fire, and Nelay thought she saw hate flash across Suka’s eyes. With an inward gasp, Nelay stared after her retreating form.
The king gestured for Nelay to walk with him. They crossed between the enormous columns—these made of marble instead of gold, which was too easy to steal. He paused when they were out of earshot, but she kept going, swaying her hips seductively. She was counting on the king following her. They needed to be out of Suka’s line of sight for Nelay’s plan to work, and she wasn’t yet ready to abandon her plans to seduce him. To calm herself, she slipped her hand in her pocket and rubbed her thumb on the back of her idol.
“What has the high priestess told you?” the king asked from close behind her.
Nelay let out a tiny breath of relief. Objective one accomplished. “I know only that some great sacrifice is required of me to serve Idara and the Goddess.”
“Is that what Suka said?” Zatal was clearly amused.
Steeling herself against her disdain, Nelay cast him an ironic smile. “And this sacrifice has something to do with you.”
The king grunted. Though a priestess could take a lover, they never married. Tying herself to one man and losing her rank as a priestess was certainly a sacrifice. And now he knew she had guessed the reason for this meeting. Nelay congratulated herself on a successful play toward cleverness.
“I am not an eloquent man, Priestess. I am a soldier, so you must forgive my straightforward manner. I’m told I can be a bit . . . harsh.”
They had reached the edge of the columns, well beyond where Suka might see them. The guards stood like deaf and dumb statues. Before Nelay were the wide stone steps surrounding the entire temple. So far, she was playing the field perfectly. “It is well, King Zatal, for I am also a soldier, trained from my youth to fight for the Goddess.”
Again, he openly appraised her. She was muscular yet soft—opposing traits the men of the Idara seemed to find most attractive. Her eyes and mouth were large, as was her nose, and her chin a bit too small, but overall, she was considered evocative if not beautiful.
“What do you wish of me, my king?”
His gaze strayed to the hand in her pocket. “High Priestess Suka met with me not long after I arrived. Apparently, the Goddess wishes us to wed.”
Nelay withdrew her hand and swept her gaze over him, lingering on his numerous scars. His features were too strong to make him handsome, and he was old enough to be her father. But Zatal’s most repulsive trait was his failure—even with the strongest army the world had ever known, and the best strategists and engineers, he’d lost their capital city in a matter of days.
She itched to ask him if the rumors were true—if the Clansmen wielded a terrible new weapon. But that would make him defensive and wary, and she needed him distracted and open. “Priestesses never marry,” she reminded him.
The king’s face remained impassive. “Unfortunately, your high priestess was right—marrying me would be a sacrifice, for I have made little secret that I already love a woman who has borne me children. But she is of low status and forbidden to be queen.”
Of course Nelay knew that. “So you propose a marriage in name only?”
He slowly shook his head. “No. Though she has borne me two children, I have no heirs. Provide me with three, and you shall be free to do as you wish.”
Nelay made a show of turning away from him. Where he couldn’t see, she closed her eyes. She had watched her mother bury so many children. Her brother, Panar, had mocked her, saying he would be a man of standing, while she would be nothing more than a mother and wife. She’d sworn then to never be either.
If she failed to beat Suka in a game of fire before her wedding to the king, Nelay would be forced to bind herself to this failure of a man—in exchange for her family’s safety.
“Are you really asking me?”
King Zatal hesitated. “I would prefer your compliance.”
At least he was honest. Under different circumstances, perhaps they would have gotten along.
Nelay turned to face him and canted her head to the side, exposing her neck at the best angle. “I will marry you on one condition.” The king’s head came up. “My family lives in the Hansi Province, northeast of Sopora. I want them secured within the city. And I want access to them.”
Holding her breath, she waited for his answer. She hadn’t seen her parents or brother since she’d arrived at the temple. For the first year, she had cried every night for missing them. She even missed the fights with her brother.
“Despite your many charms—” Zatal’s eyes swept over her mockingly “—it’s not as if you have a choice.”
Hot humiliation and then anger flushed her skin and settled sharply in her belly.
“Nevertheless, I would gladly honor your request,” the king went on. “But I am afraid it is too late. Arcina is already under attack. I ju
st received a report this morning.”
Nelay’s heart dropped in her chest. Arcina was the capital of the Hansi province. If her family hadn’t already found safety within the city’s walls, they may well be beyond the king’s reach.
Suddenly lightheaded, she realized she’d been holding her breath. She gasped, not bothering to hide her fear. Panar would be eighteen now, almost two years her senior. Their parents would be old and gray. If her family had made it to the city, would she even recognize them?
“Then will you send the Immortals to retrieve them?” she asked the king.
He smoothed his curling beard. “I will not sacrifice my men for a fool’s errand. If your family is alive, the Clansmen will have taken them as slaves they call tiams. And they always refuse any offers of ransom.”
The news struck Nelay like a dagger. She’d failed them—failed her family.
“I will, of course, send emissaries to see if your family can be found among the refugees.” King Zatal’s voice was softer now. His gaze strayed to her breasts again. “I know what it looks like when a woman is trying to seduce me. Not that I blame you. I would do that and more to save my family.”
Nelay clenched her teeth. She’d been a fool for thinking she could manipulate the most cunning man alive.
The king’s eyes flashed with amusement. “You know, I believe you and I will get along just fine.” He knew he had won, and he was gloating. When she didn’t respond, he turned to look out over the temple’s gardens. “They say there are two kinds of people—those who build and those who break. But I have learned that sometimes we must break before we can build.” He faced her again. “I will break you. It will be painful, and I’m sorry for that. But you can build yourself up stronger than you were before.”
Her main objective—to have the king go after her family—had failed. Now Nelay would carry out her backup plan. “Very well. Only let me say goodbye to my fellow acolytes.”
He bowed to her. “I will give you a few moments.”
“You will wait for me here?”
This time he hesitated before nodding to the closest Immortal to let her pass. “Of course.” Just as Nelay started off, King Zatal reached out and grasped her shoulder. “To be a true leader, one must not simply be strong. One must also be selfless.” His eyes shone with admiration. “You will make a fine queen.”
Selflessness was not a trait Nelay had bothered to cultivate. With a smile she hoped looked sincere, she strode down the steps to the side yard without looking back.
A feeling nagged at her that she was making a mistake. After all, Suka had said Nelay’s sacrifice was necessary to save Idara. Nelay pushed the thought aside and crossed the guarded gate into the acolyte sector. Then she broke into a run, her jewelry bumping and jingling against her body. She passed no one; it was still too hot out. Out of breath, she burst into her tiny room and slammed the door behind her.
Jezzel shot to her feet. “Well?”
Nelay met her friend’s gaze. “I just outmaneuvered the most cunning man in the world.”
“So he’s going to marry you?” Jezzel asked.
A muscle flinched near Nelay’s brow. “Not exactly.”
Jezzel scrutinized her friend from head to toe. “So how exactly did you outmaneuver him?”
Nelay shot Jezzel a flat look and slipped off her shoes. “When I enacted our contingency plan—I tricked him into letting me go without Suka noticing.”
Jezzel obviously wasn’t impressed. “I just can’t believe he didn’t ask you to marry him.”
“He did,” Nelay huffed, then slipped off her trousers. “Now help me out of the bodice.”
“Say please,” Jezzel grumbled.
Nelay took a breath and checked her temper. “Please.”
Jezzel unfastened the bodice, which was much easier to take off than put on. “I don’t understand. If you failed to seduce him, why did he still ask you to marry him?”
Nelay tossed her jewelry onto the bed. “Suka went on and on about sacrificing and the marriage saving Idara—as if marrying an acolyte would gain the king favor with the Goddess or something. You know how dramatic the woman is.”
Nelay pulled her glass idol out of the pocket of her discarded trousers. It was a gift from her father—the only thing she had from home. A few months after she had arrived in Thanjavar, she’d gone to the glassmakers and had them fasten it to a simple leather cord, which she now slipped over her head.
She tugged on the sand-colored robes of the desert tribes and said, “Get my baldrics, will you?” Moments later Jezzel dropped two of them across Nelay’s shoulders.
“They’re going to know you helped me,” Nelay warned. She felt guilty, but they’d taken enough punishments for each other to be beyond keeping score anymore.
“I’ll claim you told me Suka granted you permission to search for your family.”
Out of habit, Nelay checked her shamshir and knives. Perhaps the priestesses of fire had taught her too well how to plot, how to fight.
By the time Jezzel finished, Nelay had donned the headscarf and tied the veil over her face, with only her eyes showing. In the plain brown robes, she looked like a woman of the tribes, all of whom had a reputation for tetchiness and shamshir skills.
“Nelay?” Jezzel voice had lost its teasing tone. “Be careful.”
She crossed the distance and embraced her friend. “I’ll be back in a couple of months.”
Jezzel grunted. “You know that even if the high priestess believes me innocent, she’ll have me running barefoot over hot sand for months.”
Nelay pulled back to arm’s length to look at her. “I’ll pay you back when I’m high priestess.”
Jezzel rolled her eyes. “I’ll be the commanding priestess of the Goddess Army long before you’re ever high priestess.”
Nelay tipped her chin toward the door. “Any fairies out there that will report me to Suka?” Nelay hated to ask, hated that she depended on someone else for anything. But her lost sight left her blind to the dangers the fairies presented.
Jezzel peeked out the door. “There’s a spider fairy in the palm tree to your left. She’s looking right at the door.”
Nelay grimaced. “If Suka dares make a deal with the treacherous creatures, she’ll find me long before I can escape the city!”
Jezzel held out her palm in a calming gesture. “I’ll take care of it. You slip out and keep your face covered. If you can get to the desert and then behind the Clansmen’s lines, you’ll be out of Zatal’s reach. When I give the signal, hurry. Suka will turn the whole city apart looking for you.”
Nelay squeezed her friend’s arms. “Thanks, Jez.”
“Just don’t get yourself killed,” Jezzel called as she rushed out.
Nelay waited, the sweat running down the sides of her face. I don’t have time for . . . the thought was interrupted by the hoot of an owl, which wasn’t an owl at all. She slipped back into the ovat, which whipped at her robes. A huge, dead spider lay at the base of the tree, flat on its back, its legs curved around an arrow shaft. But it wasn’t really a spider at all. It was a fairy, visible only to those with the Sight.
From experience Nelay knew the fairy would steal the body of another spider within moments. She had to be out of the courtyard before then. She exchanged a goodbye nod with Jezzel.
There were no guards posted on this side of the priestess courtyard, and the ones on the other side said nothing—after all, their job was to restrict ingress, not egress. Nelay climbed the stairs that wrapped around the public bethel, then slipped into the wedge between the door and the wall. King Zatal still stood with his hands behind his back. Grateful for the shadows of the temple, she cocked one foot casually against the temple walls and waited.
It didn’t take long. “King Zatal?” Nelay recognized Suka’s voice. “Nelay?” Then her tone changed, becoming almost threatening. “Where is she?”
“She went to say goodbye—”
“Pasha, Meho, check her room,”
Suka shouted. Two acolytes burst into view, running past Nelay. “You two, check the stables.”
Imagining the high priestess ordering around the king’s Immortals, Nelay smiled beneath her veil. She had planned this moment for days, preparing to flee at a moment’s notice. Suka was sending all her acolytes in the wrong direction.
“You think she’d run?” the king asked, his voice becoming more distant
Suka growled. “I told you not to let her out of your sight.” Nelay peeked around the column and caught a glimpse of their quickly retreating figures. The Immortals followed them.
“She seemed amicable . . .” the king began.
“She is trained by the priestesses of fire. She can appear however she wants whenever she wants.”
They didn’t know it yet, but it was too late. Nelay had won the game when she’d convinced the king to let her go back to her rooms alone. She moved casually forward. Immortals were stationed between the temple and the populace. The Immortal closest to the temple wall was watching the chaos unfold at the temple and didn’t notice when she slipped past him.
Immediately Nelay joined the crowd waiting for access to the temple. Since everyone wore a veil during the ovat, she blended in perfectly. A few dozen steps more and she’d be beyond the palace’s high walls. People took one look at her plain Tribeswoman garb and quietly stepped out of the way.
Nelay was crossing the palace gates when Pasha and Meho showed up to look for her. Their gazes slid over her disguise, but then one of the girls whipped back. It was Meho, burn it! She had the Sight, and if the high priestess had managed to strike a bargain with the fairies, there was nowhere Nelay could hide.
A Tribeswoman wouldn’t keep her head down, so Nelay didn’t either. Meho gave a sudden shout and, judging by the crowd’s reaction, started coming after her. Nelay didn’t run. Running would confirm who she was. Instead, she crossed the street and stepped into an incense shop.
She gave a nod to the owner, who handed her an unlit torch and slipped out, a bundle of incense in his hand. The lock snicked behind him. Just a shopkeeper showing his complete devotion by going to the temple to worship during the ovat—no doubt with some of her bribe money jingling in his pocket.