Page 7 of House of Gilded Nightmares

Despite how incredibly vivid it had been, even more so than usual, it couldn’t be real. Because surely, if there was a real threat, the dream warrior would have provided more specifics. Not vague warnings I can’t use. It was obviously just my fear and unhappiness getting the better of me, my mind playing tricks within my dreamscape. Because today, I’ll be joined to the High Priest, irrevocably.

In those late, desperate hours of the night, I’d turned over a hundred possibilities to get out of this. I could run away. I could fake an injury. I could do something so terrible that I’d be banished from Eldare forever.

Those plans, however, involve doing the one thing I can’t bring myself to do: leave Lilette behind.

She’d never run away with me. She is everything I am not. Dedicated to our order, committed to her sacred duty, and willing to give up her personal happiness to keep Eldare safe. She believes, unerringly, in our work here.

I still don’t understand why the goddess would choose me, someone of broken faith and a traitorous spirit. It doesn’t make any sense at all.

As if sensing I’m awake, Lilette stirs on the opposite side of the bed and rolls over. Her golden hair glows in the sun, and her lips part in a yawn as her eyes blink open. When they meet mine, we gaze at each other for several long moments.

“They will be here soon,” she murmurs, her brow wrinkling.

My heart accelerates. “Promise me it’s going to be okay.”

Lilette draws in a long, slow breath. “I know it’s not what you want. But you will make a wonderful High Priestess. You’ll do so much good for all the people of Eldare. And I’ll be here, just as before.”

She reaches for my hand and winds her fingers through mine. We have one final moment, just the two of us in the early morning sun, before the door to my room is flung open and a procession of coriata files in. The Vor Kyran casts Lilette a sharp and piercing gaze that holds maybe the tiniest bit of exasperated understanding but also sends a very clear order. Lilette gets up and hurries from the room.

“You require preparation,” the Vor Kyran says to me, as all hints of emotion vanish behind the stone mask of her face.

The next few hours pass in a chaotic blur that is both unsettlingly fast and agonizingly slow. I am bathed and I am dressed and I am blessed in a private ceremony of the older coriata only, a ceremony which lasts well over two hours. And apparently, I am in fasting, because I am fed neither breakfast nor lunch. So, when the sun dips behind the mountains and I am finally escorted by the head priestess into a quiet room in the palace and seated at a small dining table, gratitude rushes through me and my stomach rumbles.

“He’ll be with you shortly,” she says.

My short-lived thankfulness turns to ice in my veins. He. The High Priest.

I sit down clumsily in the chair before me, trying to smooth the fabric of the voluminous robe they’ve placed on me, though my hands tremble slightly. I suppose it makes sense that I should spend some time alone with the man that, later tonight, I’m going to be joined to for the remainder of my life. The man I’m going to join with, fully and completely.

Dinner isn’t what I should be nervous about.

I force myself to take a breath and calm the shaking of my fingers. For some reason, my dream of the night before comes to mind. Hunting the monster. The spray of blood, the feeling of power. My hands go still.

The door to the room opens and the High Priest steps inside, closing it behind him again. He turns to face me, pausing a half-moment before walking to the table. “Hello, Sarielle.”

Something about his casual use of my first name makes my skin crawl, but I offer a polite nod. “Your imminence.”

“There’s no need for such formality,” he says as he pulls out his chair and slides into it. “Not anymore.”

Because in just a few hours, we will be flesh to flesh. “What should I call you?”

He looks mildly surprised for a moment, then lets out a low chuckle. “I suppose you don’t know my given name. It’s Talnen.”

I nod. Beneath the table, my hands twist into the brushed silk of my robe. It goes all the way up to the base of my chin and is stiflingly hot. As if the other priestesses wanted to cover every inch of me that they could before my grand unveiling. I fight the urge to reach up and shift it away from my skin.

Our awkward silence is broken by a soft knock. Two servants enter, bringing a pitcher of water and two plates of steaming food. It looks like braised fish and a mix of greens and mushrooms from the forest. Much fancier fare than I’m usually given. After they’ve set everything down, they leave again without a word.

“No wine tonight, I’m afraid,” the High Priest says with a wry smile.

It’s not something they typically give us anyways, except on rare holidays, though I once pilfered a bottle from storage to take to our meadow. I offer my own smile, more at the memory of that time than at his poor attempt at a joke.

He takes a bite of food and gestures for me to do the same. I pick up my fork and take a tentative bite of the fish. My appetite has vanished, but I know I need to eat something to be polite.

“Tonight is a very important night,” the High Priest says after a couple of bites. “Not only for Eldare. I hope, too, that we will come to be acquainted with each other. That’s why I wanted to dine with you before the ceremony.”

Acquainted with each other?

I stare at him, not sure what to say to such a ridiculous statement. I take in his appearance from a different perspective than I ever have before. He is not unattractive. He appears perhaps half a century in age, though he is fit and muscular. His dark hair sets off his blue eyes all the more, and he has a strong jaw, though his nose is a bit crooked, as if once broken.

---