Page 213 of Scourged

Something deep in Anniliese’s chest cracked.

She’d been trained and used and manipulated her entire life. Such was the way for women in her world. She never saw it, never knew anything different. Not until Mariah had snatched her future from her. Anniliese’s eyes were forced open, and the rage of thousands of generations of women rang in her soul.

Lisabel deserved better than this.

With purpose, Anniliese strode to the platform. She fixed her gaze on Lisabel’s white face, her open, unseeing eyes, the brutal gash across her neck as she unclasped her cloak. She swung the thick velvet, draping it across Lisabel’s form. A modicum of dignity; the best she could do.

Anniliese sank to her knees in the burnt, blood-soaked grass, staining her already ruined gown.

“Lord of the stars,” she whispered, tilting her head to the sky, “take this soul. Guide her into the heaven’s sweet embrace. Show her true peace and let her know the Goddess’ light.”

Anniliese hadn’t spoken Priam’s prayer since her mother’s vigil. A rite reserved only for the closest loved ones, a plea to Qhohena’s Consort to carry dear departed souls into eternal rest.

She was far from Lisabel’s loved one, but she hoped her words would suffice.

Bowing her head, she twisted her hands into the ruined fabric of her dress. “I’m sorry,” she said in a choked whisper. Tears burned behind her eyes, so much sorrow and rage and regret wrapping around her, swallowing her.

Beneath the stars, kneeling amidst blood and ruin before the body of the queen’s dead mother, Anniliese cried.

She should have listened to Mariah. Should have fled with her when she had the chance. She’d been lied to and manipulated; everyone in that castle had. Her instincts knew something was wrong, and in her fear, she’d ignored them. She hated—despised—the part she’d played, even unwittingly, in bringing about that day.

She hated herself for not being strong.

The tears ran down her face, mixing with ash and dust and smudged makeup. And as each one fell, something wild stirred awake, deep inside. Something forgotten and bright andburning.

Burning, burning, burning. Heat washed through her, consuming her, tugging at her chest as a caged animal begs to be set free.

Anniliese was too exhausted to hold it in.

That feeling burst from her chest, and light flared against her closed eyelids, splotching her vision with searing gold. Warmth crackled in her hands, along her skin, and her eyes flew open in wild shock.

Her hands … they were onfire.

Sobs caught in her throat as a scream threatened to crawl its way out. Fear—anticipation of the pain, of the searing of her flesh—heaved through her chest. But before her terror could consume her, she realized something.

That fire … it wasn’t burning. It danced on her skin, wrapped around her fingers, but caused no pain. Nothing but glorious, freeing warmth bubbled all around her.

“What …” she whispered breathlessly, horror dying in her chest as she watched those glowing golden flames dancing in the moonlight.

These flames were hers.

This wasmagic.

Which was impossible. Anniliese did not have magic. That’s why she’d attended the Choosing, why she was eligible to marry, why she wasn’t garbed in a priestess’s golden robes.

A ringing started in her ears. Her chest heaved as her hands began to shake. “I can’t be. I can’t be. I can’t?—”

The flames twinkled at her, as if in laughter.

They were … they werebeautiful.Wild and dangerous and terrifying, certainly. But they were hers. And as Anniliese watched them, she felt a piece of herself shift, clicking into place.

She’d been taught to be meek and quiet and perfect. But that was not who she was, not really. She was fire and light and rage, and she would not be contained again.

The night breeze shifted around her, catching sparks from her skin. They illuminated Lisabel’s dark, covered form, still there on the wooden platform.

And Anniliese knew what she needed to do.

On shaky legs she stood, hand still wreathed in flames. She reached out, holding her breath, her golden flames shimmering.

---