Blood of the Goddess Book I: The Locust King
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Locusts at the Gate Chapter 2: A New Name Chapter 3: The Capital Prepares Chapter 4: The Princess is Dead, Long Live the Princess Chapter 5: Outside the Gates Chapter 6: Inside the Black Tent Chapter 7: Surrender at the Temple Chapter 8: The Cult of the Locust Chapter 9: The Locust's Tenets of Faith Chapter 10: Mourners on the Cliff Chapter 11: The Eye of Betrayal Chapter 12: The Dead King's Bedchamber Chapter 13: The Arms of the Goddess Chapter 14: Zayaan of the Narim Chapter 15: The Eyes of the Priestess Chapter 16: A More Permanent Disguise Chapter 17: Tribute Chapter 18: Sacrifice of the New Moon Chapter 19: The Lost Bird Chapter 20: Manah and the Priestess Chapter 21: Desert Creatures Chapter 22: Become the Swarm Chapter 23 The Price of Betrayal Chapter 24: Life Under the Locust Chapter 25: Wild Rose Chapter 26: The Lady Wren Chapter 27: Thought and Desire Chapter 28: The Lady's Captivity Chapter 29: The Wine Maiden Chapter 30: End of Childhood Chapter 31: The Children of Aisha Chapter 32: The Forest Runner Chapter 33: Three Sisters Chapter 34: The Hunt Chapter 35: Bones in the Forest Chapter 36: Lullaby Chapter 37: The Hunter's Horn Chapter 38: Ways Between Ways Chapter 39: Morning Star Chapter 40: A Prophecy for Baraz Chapter 41: Equinox Fires Chapter 42: The Lord Prince Takri Chapter 43: Evening Star Sets Chapter 44: Chaos in the Courtyard Chapter 45: Dasha Chapter 46: Memories Chapter 47: The Body Slave Chapter 48: Caged Beasts Chapter 49: Message from the Capital Chapter 50: Heresiarch Chapter 51: The Color of Blood Chapter 52: Winter Winds Chapter 53: The Bookmaker's Closet Chapter 54: Wrapped in Dignity and Beauty Chapter 55: Vessel of the Goddess Chapter 56: Cracks in the Walls Chapter 57: Two Brothers Chapter 58: The Court of Women Chapter 59: Favored of the King Chapter 60: The Sweetest Fruit Chapter 61: Daughter of the Temple Chapter 62: A Nation of Bastards Chapter 63: The Lute Player Chapter 64: Aisha's Prayer Chapter 65: Promises Chapter 66: Lives Lost Chapter 67: The Tea Maker Chapter 68: Object of Desire Chapter 69: Empty Shelves Chapter 70: Darkness and Light Chapter 71: The Love of Men Chapter 72: The Cursed Ones Chapter 73: Hiding Places Chapter 74: Old Men's Tales Chapter 75: False Prophecies Chapter 76: The Lord Prince Radu Chapter 77: Love Becomes Life Chapter 78: Mistress and Mother Chapter 79: A Test of Strength Chapter 80: The Strigoi-Viu Cometh Chapter 81: Scraps from the Table Chapter 82: A Fool's Errand Chapter 83: The Little Ghost Chapter 84: Stolen Honeycakes Chapter 85: Breathe Chapter 86: Beneath the Palace Chapter 87: Red Pebbles Chapter 88: Common Men Chapter 89: Love and Duty Chapter 90: Nightmares Chapter 91: Earth and Sun Chapter 92: Love and Creation Chapter 93: Until My Last Breath Chapter 94: Fruit and Flower Chapter 95: Two DaysChapter 58: The Court of Women
A shudder ran through Nasreen as the doors of the Court of Women closed behind Luka and Floryan. The sound of the golden key turning in the lock sent her racing heart back to her throat, a bleak reminder this place was only another prison. Just as the temple had been when she left the brothel only hours ago. Just as the entire empire of the Locust was for anyone who was not the Locust King Himself.
The procuress’ words rang in her ears.
You shall do as the Goddess did when she was taken into captivity. You shall wrap yourself in dignity and beauty and hold your heart separate from your body, preserving it only for yourself. And you will either return safely to us, or death will release you once you have served your purpose.
Like the story in the scroll, Nasreen thought. The Lady returned to her children and her Beloved. If She is willing, I will return as well.
She stood in the shadows for a moment, staring at the carved wooden door before gathering herself and turning to face this new cage within a cage. In comparison to the stone hallways of the palace, this room felt like a gentle summer day. Pools filled with water from Adyll’s ubiquitous thermal springs provided heat in the large open space of the atrium. Thin alabaster panels covered the roof several floors above, allowing sunlight to filter through during the day if the clouds allowed it. The humid air inside the room condensed like dew on the colder windows above before travelling downward on a cleverly woven web of tiny copper bells to water flowers and ornamental trees below.
Nasreen took a hesitating step forward away from the door. It would do no good to stand in the shadows, waiting like a dog for the pair of eunuchs to return and set her free. As they had told her, it would be a miracle if she ever left the walls of the palace again. The women who lived here were all princesses, wives of the King. The soldiers were right. She was only a whore. Nothing more than a woman who sold her flesh to survive. There was nothing sacred or noble about her role at the temple any longer, only shame and disgust. Surely, these noble born women would never accept her as an equal.
Why was she here, in this room, this place whose splendor rivaled anything Nasreen had seen in her short life? The temple felt ancient and mystical, a place that inspired worship and stillness. The Court of Women was lush and lavish in comparison. In the days before the Locust, it served as a place to house visiting nobility and members of the royal family. Now, it served as a glorified display case for the strigoi-viu's collection of brides from every nation he had conquered.
Walkways and balconies lined the walls of the atrium with doors and windows leading into rooms on each side. The royal brides spent their days under dampened sunlight, breathing air scented by flowers that never felt the breath of wind. Music filtered through the air from the other end of the room. Singing. The strumming of a lute. The sound of water as it tinkled along the chains above.
At the far end of the room, she could make out the source of the music. A young girl, about the age of Aisha, with long black hair sat on a stone bench plucking a lute. Another young woman with fair skin and russet tresses sang in a language unknown to Nasreen. The song was beautiful, but haunting. Other women of various ages reclined on cushions and chairs around them, listening. Nasreen approached, but remained outside of the circle, unwilling to take any attention away from the musicians by her appearance.
Time passed. Servants appeared, silently lighting oil lamps around the room, casting leaping shadows that danced along with another mournful tune, reminding Nasreen of the dancing figures in the fire that burned the Zora only a few days previous.
A hand touched her shoulder, bringing her back to the present.
"It is time, little one," Luka said, motioning her towards the door. Now that she had the opportunity to leave, she no longer wanted to. Danger and the unknown were outside that door. And Takri. And the strigoi-viu.
She glanced back at the musicians. Floryan stood behind them, leaning over to address the lute player, who nodded and put her instrument down without a word. She stood from the bench, smoothing her purple and gold robes into place, her face impassive and eyes downcast. Floryan picked up the lute and carried it reverently behind her.
"Who is the lute player?" asked Nasreen.
"Lilua, Princess of the Narim, and favored child bride of the God-King," he said. "You will both be dining with him tonight in the royal chambers. May you both return to us once the meal is completed."
Nasreen looked down at her hands, twisted in the white silk she wore. She forced them to relax as she took a deep breath, willing her heart to stop pounding as she joined the Lilua and the two eunuchs at the door.
The Narim princess turned to Luka and knelt in front of him, eyes upturned as he placed a golden veil over her head. She stood and stared wordlessly at Nasreen.
“Nasreen, you must always remain veiled outside of the Court of Women,” said Luka. “Kneel, and I will veil you as befits your station as honored guest of the Locust.”
Nasreen nodded and knelt before Luka. As her sight was obscured by the veil, Floryan once again lifted the golden key from around his neck and turned it in the lock. Cold air from the dark hallway rushed over them.
As they stepped out into the cold hallway, Nasreen silently recited the procuress' prayer; May Your mantle cover me in beauty. May my words intoxicate like sweet wine. May my form incite desire. May my beauty inspire love. Let me know only the pleasure of joining, and never the pain. And if my beauty brings my death, gather me to Your holy breast.
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