Page 1 of House of Gilded Nightmares

Prologue

It was an hour before dawn, in that deepest, darkest part of the night before the sky shifts from ink-black to raven’s wing purple, that they heard the baby.

When the head priestess pulled back the heavy double doors of the Amethyst Palace and saw the basket and the screaming infant inside it, the younger women behind her let out a collective gasp. She shot them a stern look and bent over the baby, which was wrapped in an emerald-green woven blanket, to examine it. Her eyes searched the courtyard beyond, but she saw no one. The night was peaceful, undisturbed. Other than the sudden arrival on their doorstep.

She gestured for one of the coriata to collect the infant and take it inside. The young woman looked almost frightened as she lifted the basket, and if the priestess was being honest, there was something of an…unnatural…taste to the air around them. A ripple, a presence, something that made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. But, of course, she let the other women see nothing of this. It was her job to maintain order. Lips set in a hard, thin line, she gestured for everyone to return indoors and hoped very much she was wrong about the nagging feeling that had begun to uncoil in her gut.

Inside the foyer, by light of torch, the priestess took a closer look at the still-wailing baby. The coriata sat the basket on a side table, and in so doing, the blanket fell back from the infant’s head. Another round of exclamations rolled over the women. The baby couldn’t be more than a few days old and had very unusual…well, everything. Her skin was oddly pale, her hair, which she already had an abundance of, a strange shade of silver-lavender, except for one streak of pure black on the left side. And her eyes glowed large and deep gold, like melted coins or setting suns.

With a sharp intake of breath to steel herself, the priestess lifted the baby from the basket. It instantly ceased crying, fixing those golden eyes on hers with an attentiveness no infant should be capable of. A shiver ran over the priestess, but she held the baby and sent one of the coriata to the kitchen to warm some milk. As she waited, rocking the infant slightly from side to side to ensure it didn’t start shrieking again, she noticed something quite odd. Along the tiny girl’s right palm was a shallow cut in a perfectly straight line. Crimson beads of blood welled up along the edges of it. Another shudder moved over her.

“Go wake the High Priest,” she commanded the girl next to her.

Eyes widening in fear, the coriata nodded and hastened away. A few minutes later, the High Priest entered the room wearing a deep purple robe. His sapphire eyes narrowed as he set eyes on the priestess and the infant in her arms.

“What is this?” he asked as if he’d never seen a baby before.

The priestess kept her tone carefully measured. “Someone left it on the doorstep, your imminence. We do not know who.”

“Is the Amethyst Palace an orphanage, Vor Kyran?”

Her formal title as head priestess. She suppressed a flinch. “No, your imminence.”

“Then take this child elsewhere.” His tone was more frigid than the stars that shone in the sky. “She doesn’t belong here.”

She inclined her head in acquiescence and turned to place the baby back in the basket. But as she did so, the High Priest let out a hiss.

“Wait…”

She rotated slowly back around.

“I sense…” His brow crinkled, but his eyes began to burn brightly. “Take her to the cathedral.”

The priestess knew better than to question his sudden change of heart. The others scurried ahead of her as they made their way through the palace, out the backdoor, and across the central courtyard to the large glass-domed building sitting at its center. When they entered the hushed, candlelit building, the scent of incense made the baby sneeze.

Following the High Priest, who had managed to stride ahead of her, she found herself at the altar of the main chamber. The High Priest gestured for her to remove the baby from the basket again. He took the infant from her arms and set her on the high, black stone table behind the altar. The baby let out a whimper that threatened to intensify.

Until the air around her began to glow, a soft, silver light that filled every corner of the room. The baby let out a cooing sound, and another wave of murmurs moved around the huge room.

“I have changed my mind,” the High Priest said, his voice echoing to the ceiling. “We shall keep the child here. She possesses magic, quite special magic. Clearly a gift from the goddess.”

The head priestess nodded, then stepped forward to collect the baby from the cold stone table. The trepidation she’d felt before did not lessen. If anything, it intensified.

Because she knew well the life of someone deemed special. And it was a perilous and lonely one indeed.

Part One

Chapter One

The first day of Ostara is a day marked by the blooming of astherium blossoms around the lake and the warming of winds from the northern mountains and five rounds of ringing bells in the Amethyst Palace. It is also the day of the Choosing, and so, while everyone else is flooding into the palace, my only desire is to escape.

Which is why I now have the sharp end of a sword pointed between my eyes.

I gaze down the long length of the blade and drop to my knees, slicing with my dagger at my attacker’s legs. He grunts, spinning just in time to avoid my parry. While he’s distracted, I roll forward, leaping to my feet, and when he turns to face me again, it’s my sword in his face this time.

He lets out a low chuckle and bows his head. “That was actually quite good, Sarielle.”

I raise my brows. “You say that as if it’s a surprise.”

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