A Priestess for the Blind God (Legends of Rahasia Book 1)

Chapter Ninety-One

We limp through the halls, and if we don't move fast enough, Cato has the Empire soldiers whip the backs of our calves and feet. I bite my lip so hard it bleeds, refusing to cry out. I don't want him to see my pain. But the whip cracks again.

It burns like demon fire.

But I won't submit to his torture. 

The tears and sweat dripping down my face tell another story.

Three guards bring up the absolute rear, carrying a white box that's covered in religious runes. A priest stands behind it, wailing ear-splitting hymns.

What's in that box?

What's that demon have in that box?

We make our steady way over to the bathhouse, the same one that Aziz danced in while wearing the face of Kane, nearly tricking me into thinking they were my lover. The priest sets the white box at the entrance of the baths, nearest the overflowing fountain of purity. It still smells strongly of spices, the basins overflowing with steaming water, a dense layer of mist obscuring our vision. Cato forces me to bow to him, forcing my entire body to fall to the ground, grabbing my curls so that all I see are his gold-sandaled feet and the geometrical designs of the mosaics below us. The skylight shows the stars, their glittering pattern glimmering on the face of the water in the baths.

Cato takes off his armor, or rather, Elio's armor. The plates drop around me. Arno grunts when the shield hits his back. Still, we're all prostrate before the Elder God.

"You're no Emperor. You stole that from Elio." I curse at him with a defiant grin. "You're not even the true ruler of the gods either. You stole that from Kane. You traitor."

I dare to look up. I catch a glimpse of that power-madness spreading on Cato's warrior features, and I get kicked in the face for it. It was nearly worth it, just to see his anger at my words.

I'll tear you limb from limb.

"Elio, without me, is nothing. Hero of men? Ha, without me, he couldn't even handle getting stabbed without you saving him. He's just the vessel for my power. Pathetic." He kicks me in the ribs. I scream, but he just snickers at my pain. "And Kane was just weak. He doesn't deserve being called a god."

Now on my side, I watch dimly as Cato runs his giant palms over his shorn head. His grinning mouth looks to be filled with crocodile teeth. He hands his guards his bracers to hold as he finally finishes getting undressed.

"The first step of the traditional coronation ceremony is to bathe." Beneath all that armor, he wears a white shirt and a gold-gilded šalvār, white-and-gold, the colors of the sun. The Elder God's colors. "When the Emperor emerges from these waters, he is symbolically a god." He shrugs, kicking me again for good measure as I spit at him. I groan. "Lucky then," he winks as I writhe on the floor in pain, "I'm already a god."

I can't take much more of this. 

Luckily, the ridiculous Northern disguise dress has shifted back to more comfortable leather armor. But leather armor isn't as good as my father's. And leather armor isn't much use against a god-of-war's beatings.

"Cleanliness. Order. It's why I brought you lot into the baths." He smirks as he submerges himself in the largest bath at the center. I can hardly see through the haze of smoke and pain. "Blood's easier to clean up here."

Water sloshes in the basin, beads glittering down Cato's rough, scarred skin. The cloth sticks to all the scars, illuminating the hideous stab wounds and gashes all over his body. Patches of his skin appear to still be in stitches, just for the added effect of making him seem more terrifying. A nightmarish monster, undying on the battlefield. Forever able to sever heads, take limbs.

If I could just reach my mirror...

It slid down to my belt when the corset disappeared. But with some maneuvering, I could have it in my hands in moments.

As soon as Cato ducks his head beneath the water, I move quickly. I wriggle the mirror from me, and then search desperately for a sharp edge. Ratu's just to my left, prostrate, eyes wide and panicked as they zero in on my frantic sabotage.

I've just got my hand on one of her daggers when something slams my face back down into the mosaic floor.

"Naughty," the Elder God's got water dripping from his clothes. "I hate having to do this."

Damn, how'd the bastard move so quickly?

He slams my face back down into the mirror.

And again.

And again.

"Tell." Slam. "Me." Slam. "I'm." Slam. "Your." Slam. "God."

I drain some of my Divine energy just to keep myself conscious. As more pain spikes through me, I wonder if that was the wisest thing to do. I laugh, simultaneously sobbing hysterically.

All this for a gods' war.

"What's so funny, witch?" Cato spits, disgusted by my very presence.

I don't answer, just keep laughing until tears and blood mingle on my cheeks. I look down at my Diviner's mirror. Thanks to Cato's loving attentions, the surface is now bubbling with blood. But this time, it's not my ghûls that I see in the mirror. A hand with long fingers and a spray of starscape skin breaks the glass surface, pulling himself forwards.

"Hello, love." 

***

Champions,

I love reading your comments. They give me life.

And, oh shoot, let the battles begin... Cato, you evil little...

Best,

Sophia