Page 27 of The Cruel Dawn
Now I smile at him. “Prince Idus. Hello, again.”
The prince says, “I have a gift for you, Divine One. If you would join me.”
Zephar and I follow the prince to the temple.
Intendant Wosre and his staff lead us to a chamber lined with countless sticks of burning incense. There’s a large bed covered with silk and hidden with veils. Musicians stand at the door to this room, strumming and fluting and singing a song that I can only hear snatches of over the other songs of celebration.
Rejoice! Be glad! Dance about!
We will delight her! Rejoice and shout!
He moves her with his gifted kiss
Her hips, they move with delightful bliss.
The bed is for Prince Idus and me…and whoever else I choose.
His father, King Idus, had also been a beautiful man, but he hadn’t been interested in “celebrating” with me or any other woman. On that night of the Celebration, I’d closed the veils and then-Prince Idus and I held hands. After he promised to protect Gasho, I decreed him king and let him slip away to celebrate with Dorosi, the captain of the guard.
“Shall we try out this big, fabulous bed later?” Zephar whispers, his finger poking my back. “Just you and me? No audience unless…” He shrugs.
I laugh and lift an eyebrow. “Behave.”
We return to the courtyard where Gashoans have formed a queue at the south entry. Two ancresses stand on either side of my canopy. Once Zephar and I are seated again, the women hold out their hands, beckoning the first Gashoan to approach.
A bearded man kneels before me and bows his head. “Divine, please give me life so that I may…”
Zephar chuckles and slumps in his seat. “Ah. Hearing the prayers of the people. Kaivara Megidrail, Celestial, Lady of the Verdant Realm, is still being bossed around by mortals.”
“Relax, Zee,” I snap. Receiving supplicants is a duty I have not fulfilled in far too long.
Refresh my fruits and fields, Celestial.
Heal my wounds, Divine.
Bless my womb-child-horse-hands so that I may prosper, Ancient One.
I snort. “Ancient One?”
“Youarekinda old,” he says, grinning.
I stick my tongue out at him when none of the worshippers are looking.
“Crops, coupling, and coin,” he mutters. “That’s all that mortals desire. They can all breathe better now and their sores have been healed. What else must we do for them?”
“I’ve been gone for a long time, Zee,” I say. “And mortals aren’t the only ones interested in coupling.”
Every time a Gashoan steps forward with their hands to their heart, Zephar’s brow scrunches and his jaw flexes.
Shari, though, wags her wolf-tail and smiles her wolf-smile, and her pendant shines brighter than the daystar.
“Are you about to bathe the courtyard in fire?” I ask Zephar. “Or is this face your new normal? I bless and you glare?”
He frowns. “Your patience is extraordinary.”
That was not a compliment.
I rub the back of my sweaty neck until my ears pop, and anger flickers like embers across my scalp. “What do you want me to do, Zephar?” I snap. “Tell me, since you’re—”
