Page 88 of Bloodmoon Ritual

Maybe I should have felt guilty about the way my nipples tightened under my robe at the sight of how Rhyder’s work pants hung low on his hips, the way his T-shirt stuck to his back, the strength of his arm. But I didn’t.

Eli tried to swing one of the heavy cudgels, his breathing heavy and painful.

But my brother sidestepped it easy, letting Eli overcorrect past him, then Rhyder elbowed him in the back, a precise, heavy strike that sent Eli crashing to the floor.

The Enforcer was on his hands and knees, retching blood on the ground, his injured right arm cradled against his body.

My brother didn’t give a shit, stomping his heavy boot down on Eli’s chest, and I heard the ribs crack like firewood.

“Stop!” the Prophet barked out, rising from his chair. “Stop this, Rhyder.”

My brother obeyed.

The Prophet’s face looked gray beneath his beard.

Because he now realized what I already knew.

Rhyder could not be reasoned with when it came to me.

“She will not be punished again,” Rhyder said. “The Testing has spoken.”

For a moment I felt the denial hover on the Prophet’s lips.

Then he said, “The Allfather is good.”

My brother’s face split wide in a smile, and he raised his arms to the heavens.

There was not a mark, not a scratch on him.

Who could stand against him?

“All the time,” he replied. “The Allfather is good.”

I saw Eli cradling his arm as he stood slowly up, and I knew he would not be telling Generosity to discipline me again.

My whole face ached, and I wanted to cry.

“Come, Temperance,” Rhyder said, and I turned and followed him.

When we got inside the house, my brother moving to the sink for a cool cloth to clean my injuries, I was shocked to realize that his big hands were shaking so hard it was difficult for him to grab the washcloth.

“I am so sorry, sister,” he said, pulling me into his lap on the sofa. “I don’t know why they did that. I don’t know how they could be so blind not to see that you’re the purest and best person ever to walk on this godsdamn wicked earth.”

When he had put salve on my injuries he pulled me back into his arms on the couch and I rested my head against his broad chest, his heart still pounding so wildly, pumping so crazily that I felt his fierce anger all through my body.

“Brother, they are never going to let you take me as your wife,” I whispered.

“Temperance, of course they will,” he said, his fingers gentle on my skin, pulling my headscarf carefully off so he could stroke my hair. “The Prophet knows your heart.”

I knew that was not true, but Rhyder had idolized and revered the Prophet for as long as I could remember. How could I convince him the Prophet wanted me dead?

“I am afraid,” he continued, “that someone in this Congregation ordered the raid and you to be taken. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I’m convinced it was Eli now.”

“Brother why do you love me?” I burst out, looking down at my small, weak body. There’s nothing remarkable about me. I’ve only ever been a liability.”

“Nothing remarkable about you?” Rhyder growled, his arms tightening around me. “I’ve told you your face and body drive me to distraction, Temperance. Your body is like Paradise to me. And you’re so clever, sister. The way you could always read so fast. You know I can’t read like you do.”

Of course he couldn’t. From such a young age he’d been set on the path to training as a Holy Warrior. Schooling and education had been the last thing the Congregation needed for him. The only important thing was that he obeyed commands.

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