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 DesireChapter 4: The Princess is Dead, Long Live the Princess
A long corridor full of acolyte cells stretched ahead of Aisha as far as she could see in the dim light. Aisha almost bumped into the high priestess when she came to an abrupt stop to open one.
“This is the first cell," said the high priestess to Aisha. "This is the first of your sisters you will meet. You, she, and the other initiates are under a vow of silence. No more words until I tell you that you can speak.”
She opened the door with a large key hanging from the chatelaine at her waist. The room was smaller than some of the closets in the Palace. The only comfort within the cell was a straw mattress in the corner. No candle or lamp lit the darkness, only the moonlight coming through the slit at the top of the wall. Kneeling in the pool of moonlight was a girl, her head shaven as Aisha's was, face upturned to the moonlight, deep in meditation. The moonlight made her olive skin glow. She was completely nude, a vision of the Goddess in confinement.
“Come, Nasreen, Daughter of the Goddess,” said the High Priestess. “There is need of your prayers. Garb yourself and come with us.”
Nasreen opened her eyes and bowed her head then rose in a graceful motion from the floor. Aisha was fascinated by her. Nasreen was so unashamed of her own nakedness. Aisha knew the story of the Goddess, how she was confined by the man who wished to possess her. That in that confinement, she was allowed no modesty, not even the covering of her hair. But in Nasreen, Aisha saw that even without covering there was dignity. Nasreen was in control of herself, in control of her body, and felt no need for shame. Silently, she put on the white robe of the acolyte and joined them in the hallway.
And so it went, gathering the other daughters of the Goddess from their solitude one by one. Aisha felt in awe of these holy women, and unworthy to be called one of them, considering she had not made the sacrifices they had to become an acolyte. The night was running short. The drumming of the battering ram could be heard again, and she was terrified.
They reached the courtyard surrounding the temple sanctuary. The priestesses and priests were seated in rows by rank and function, deep in prayer. The stars gleamed above them, along with the light of the full moon, painting the scene before the acolytes in shades of silver and black. Tall cedars grew in the corners of the octagonal courtyard, their scent combining with the perfume of the honeysuckle vines that covered the walls in-between them. If it had been any other night, one not marred with the sound of the war drum and battering ram, it would have been magical.
Aisha joined her fellow acolytes on the cool marble flagstones, her heart beating in her throat. Nasreen knelt next to her and gave her a small smile before bowing her head. Above them towered the enormous stone likeness of the Lady, carved into the wall of the sanctuary. Aisha's eyes were drawn to the balcony where she had last seen her mother. The balcony rested on the shoulders of the Lady, wings outstretched on either side, arms open to heaven. The Goddess's head made up the base of the balcony, and her crown the railing where her mother had rested her hands when she addressed the people for what may have been the last time. Aisha fought to hold back her tears and focused her mind on prayers to the Goddess.
She and the other acolytes prayed for what seemed an eternity. The sound of the battering ram stopped. Yet they continued to pray. Aisha hoped it was the answer to her prayers, but was certain it was not.
She heard a rustling overhead. The High Priestess appeared in the place her mother had stood. “The Princess Irinya is dead. Long live the Princess.”
Aisha’s head shot upward in disbelief.
“She was killed by an arrow shot through a palace window by our enemies at the gate. She lays in state in the sanctuary, where the Queen spent the night in vigil at her side. Perhaps this is the mercy of The Lady. Our princess will not have to endure the dishonor and punishment that will be inflicted upon us by our enemies this day. She, along with so many others, has been gathered to Our Mother’s breast. Long live the Princess Irinya.”
Aisha looked around at the crowd of mourning holy men and women. They were mourning the loss of their city and the loss of their hope.
The high priestess stood up taller, her voice rising. “Our enemy is here. As many of you already know, our Queen has decided to surrender our city to the Locusts. She has asked that we do not continue to resist these intruders, but instead welcome them. As The Lady was taken into captivity, so shall we. We will be abased in Her service. We shall submit to their wishes. The Temple will be used as the Locust King wills it to be used. Those who resist him will be killed. They will not be sacrificing themselves in the Lady’s service, but to the Locust’s. If we do not survive, Her children will cease to live on this earth.”
Not a sound was heard in the courtyard, except the twittering of awakening birds, ready to greet the morning sun.
“The Locust King has sworn an oath that we will not be taken as sacrifice as long as we vow to serve his temple. I have made this vow.” Her voice was quavering now, but her tone was firm. “I have spoken this vow for all of us, as I vowed to the Goddess that I would not sacrifice Her children, and I would do my utmost to protect them. It pains me deeply, but this is what Our Lady demands of us as Her children, to save each other.”
Aisha looked down at her hands. They were shaking, from fear or anger, she did not know. Next to her, Nasreen remained as still as a statue.
“Our Queen has gone to the gate to greet the Locust King. May Our Lady protect her and watch over her soul as it flies to heaven, reuniting with her King and Princess. May their souls fly on the wings of eagles to the Mother of us all.” The Holy Mother was gripping the Goddess’s crown for support now. “Lady, bring your spirit and peace upon us. Long live the Queen.”
The glow of the sunrise stained the white robes and hair of the High Priestess red as she stood in silence on the shoulders of her deity. Aisha felt dampness on her hands now where her tears had fallen. Next to her, Nasreen reached out and took her hand. Aisha glanced to her side, but Nasreen still appeared impassive. Her hand was warm. Aisha’s tears kept falling.
“He comes,” announced the Holy Mother. “Let us keep vigil and await our fate.”
Find your way!
Resources
WHO WE ARE
LEGAL
Get the news
Listen to our Podcast
Our Allies
