Blood of the Goddess Book I: The Locust King
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Locusts at the Gate Chapter 2: A New Name Chapter 3: The Capital Prepares Chapter 4: The Princess is Dead, Long Live the Princess Chapter 5: Outside the Gates Chapter 6: Inside the Black Tent Chapter 7: Surrender at the Temple Chapter 8: The Cult of the Locust Chapter 9: The Locust's Tenets of Faith Chapter 10: Mourners on the Cliff Chapter 11: The Eye of Betrayal Chapter 12: The Dead King's Bedchamber Chapter 13: The Arms of the Goddess Chapter 14: Zayaan of the Narim Chapter 15: The Eyes of the Priestess Chapter 16: A More Permanent Disguise Chapter 17: Tribute Chapter 18: Sacrifice of the New Moon Chapter 19: The Lost Bird Chapter 20: Manah and the Priestess Chapter 21: Desert Creatures Chapter 22: Become the Swarm Chapter 23 The Price of Betrayal Chapter 24: Life Under the Locust Chapter 25: Wild Rose Chapter 26: The Lady Wren Chapter 27: Thought and Desire Chapter 28: The Lady's Captivity Chapter 29: The Wine Maiden Chapter 30: End of Childhood Chapter 31: The Children of Aisha Chapter 32: The Forest Runner Chapter 33: Three Sisters Chapter 34: The Hunt Chapter 35: Bones in the Forest Chapter 36: Lullaby Chapter 37: The Hunter's Horn Chapter 38: Ways Between Ways Chapter 39: Morning Star Chapter 40: A Prophecy for Baraz Chapter 41: Equinox Fires Chapter 42: The Lord Prince Takri Chapter 43: Evening Star Sets Chapter 44: Chaos in the Courtyard Chapter 45: Dasha Chapter 46: Memories Chapter 47: The Body Slave Chapter 48: Caged Beasts Chapter 49: Message from the Capital Chapter 50: Heresiarch Chapter 51: The Color of Blood Chapter 52: Winter Winds Chapter 53: The Bookmaker's Closet Chapter 54: Wrapped in Dignity and Beauty Chapter 55: Vessel of the Goddess Chapter 56: Cracks in the Walls Chapter 57: Two Brothers Chapter 58: The Court of Women Chapter 59: Favored of the King Chapter 60: The Sweetest Fruit Chapter 61: Daughter of the Temple Chapter 62: A Nation of Bastards Chapter 63: The Lute Player Chapter 64: Aisha's Prayer Chapter 65: Promises Chapter 66: Lives Lost Chapter 67: The Tea Maker Chapter 68: Object of Desire Chapter 69: Empty Shelves Chapter 70: Darkness and Light Chapter 71: The Love of Men Chapter 72: The Cursed Ones Chapter 73: Hiding Places Chapter 74: Old Men's Tales Chapter 75: False Prophecies Chapter 76: The Lord Prince Radu Chapter 77: Love Becomes Life Chapter 78: Mistress and Mother Chapter 79: A Test of Strength Chapter 80: The Strigoi-Viu Cometh Chapter 81: Scraps from the Table Chapter 82: A Fool's Errand Chapter 83: The Little Ghost Chapter 84: Stolen Honeycakes Chapter 85: Breathe Chapter 86: Beneath the Palace Chapter 87: Red Pebbles Chapter 88: Common Men Chapter 89: Love and Duty Chapter 90: Nightmares Chapter 91: Earth and Sun Chapter 92: Love and Creation Chapter 93: Until My Last Breath Chapter 94: Fruit and Flower Chapter 95: Two Days Chapter 96: Small Comforts Chapter 97: Heroes Chapter 98: Fire, Water, and Wax Chapter 99: Beneath the Temple Chapter 100: The Way of Eagles Chapter 101: The Gallu Chapter 102: The Cast Off Chapter 103: The Empty Bed Chapter 104: If It Is Her Will Chapter 105: Hunger Chapter 106: The Strigoi-Viu's Gift Chapter 107: Pennyroyal Chapter 108: Forgiveness Chapter 109: Fragile Chapter 110: Another Lord Prince Chapter 111: Divine Intervention Chapter 112: Chance to Live Chapter 113: Accusations Chapter 114: NegotiationsChapter 112: Chance to Live
Dressed in her stolen clothing, Aisha huddled with the Procuress in the shadows of the passageway from the baths to the storerooms.
“Are you sure you can get the food from the safely?” whispered the Procuress. “Do not take any unnecessary risks. If anything happens to you, Nasreen would never forgive me.”
“I will be fine,” said Aisha. “The passageway is not in use, and I have done this before. Even in broad daylight I am so thin no one notices I have breasts under these clothes. And I smell like animal skins. I look like any other boy.”
“Come back soon, before she wakes,” said the Procuress.
“I will,” said Aisha, and headed off down the passageway to the storeroom. The food Takri promised lay exactly where it should be, wrapped in muslin. She gathered the bundle under her arm and headed silently back to the dormitory.
When she arrived, she found the Procuress wiping Nasreen’s face with a cool cloth.
“I am glad you are back, little one. She is burning up from within. Do not worry, this sometimes happen with the loss of a pregnancy. Go outside and bring me a bucket of snow. Perhaps we can bring the fever down.”
Aisha rushed outside to gather the snow. By the time she returned, the Procuress and several other women had moved Nasreen to a pallet further away from the fire, leaving a bright red stain of fresh blood on the sheets where she laid just before Aisha left.
No.
Bucket of snow in hand, Aisha walked numbly to her friend’s side.
No.
The Procuress took the bucket and thanked Aisha, instructing her to go outside and get more, but all Aisha could do was stare at the growing stain beneath her friend.
“Is she going to die?” asked Aisha.
“I do not know, child. What I do know is that standing here being afraid accomplishes nothing for your friend,” said the Procuress. “Go get more snow. Our most skilled midwife is here with me. There are times when the fruit of a pregnancy is not fully gone after a miscarriage. Your friend needs to expel the contents of her womb fully, this is why she is bleeding again. If anyone can help her, it is the midwife. She is old and wise and has seen far worse than this, I am sure. But for now, go get more snow. We will pack it around her to cool her blood.”
Aisha took the bucket in her hand and trudged back into the courtyard to gather more snow, not feeling the bite of the cold through the fog in her own mind. Nasreen had tricked her. She had wanted to die all along. Just like Aisha did at the cliff’s edge the night the orphan’s corpse lay in her stead on the funeral pyre. Nasreen was the one who kept her from the cliff’s edge, kept her from giving up when all was lost. Now everything would be lost if she died.
Aisha brought in the bucket and left again to fill another.
What had Nasreen said when she woke after the poison? That she came back for me?
Her hands were numb from the snow, but she continued to fill bucket after bucket.
The Lady wouldn’t bring her back just to take her away again.
Would She?
What did Nasreen say?
Why can’t I remember?
Another bucket of snow. Nasreen’s skin looked blue and grey as the midwife worked.
Is she breathing?
The shallow rise and fall of Nasreen’s breast was small comfort when compared to the growing red stain on the melting snow around her.
Another bucket.
Our lives are fragile.
She said our lives are fragile.
Aisha returned with the bucket to find Nasreen lying alone and still. Her breast did not rise or fall, no matter how long Aisha stared at her friend. Across the room, the midwife washed blood from her hands while the Procuress wept. The sound of the water and the Procuress’ sobs receded into the background as the room went silent and slow around Aisha until the clatter of her snow filled bucket brought everything into sharp focus.
If you have a chance to live, you must take it.
She fled from the room, running as fast as her legs would take her. Down the passageway to the storeroom, through the door. She scrambled over the pile of rubble into the catacombs where she lit the oil lamp, sending shadows writhing across the wall of skulls behind her. Her eyes fell on the bottle of ink at her feet, and she remembered the Holy Mother’s words the first day she stained her hair with its contents.
A guttural scream escaped her lips as she dashed the jar into the jeering skulls behind her. She sat down, defeated and crying. “The Holy Mother is wrong. I am not a parasite. I am not. Nasreen was good, and you took her baby. You took her life! How am I supposed to live now?”
You must go without me.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, then pulled out the drawings of the catacombs she traced what seemed like an eternity ago.
“What am I doing? I don’t even know what these mean!”
They mean there is a chance. A way out.
Aisha thought back to the night she and Nasreen huddled before the fire in the brothel kitchen, Nasreen’s teeth chattering and her hands raw from the cold. Nasreen knew the truth then.
I saw what the strigoi-viu wants us to be. And I cannot be that thing. And neither can you.
Nasreen, in all her beauty and love, could not be molded into something that could survive inside the walls of the temple.
But outside, there was a chance.
Aisha secured the drawings inside the bag of provisions Takri had left for their grand escape and slung it over her shoulder, followed by the wax covered scroll case.
Her friend’s words echoed in her ears as she took her first steps into the catacombs. Promise me that no matter what happens to any of us that you will do whatever you must to survive. Promise me, Aisha.
Aisha’s walk became a run. Further and further into the catacombs, and into the darkness, taking care to keep the wall on her right. If she did so, she would eventually reach the edge of the cliff, and from there she hoped she could find the room Manah took her when she had another name.
Irinya.
A name which Nasreen never called her. A name that died the same night they met.
An image of Nasreen kneeling in the moonlight like the Goddess in captivity flashed in Aisha’s memory, followed by her grey body lying in the bloodstained snow. She choked back tears and kept moving, ever forward.
If you have a chance to live, you must take it.
Find your way!
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