Priestess Elba and two others brought forth a large conch, the mouth wide enough for the anointing saltwater to pool. They began intoning the first of many prayer songs, echoing eerily against the curved marble walls until their voices became an otherworldly wave that carried Liz’s thoughts away.
She should have been praying, not that she believed anyone was listening to her, instead she found herself taking stock of her life thus far. She had learned a great many things; she knew languages unheard of in the Kingdom of Aegis or long dead from the world at large, she could recite every epic poem or story passed down about the myriad gods and goddesses, and she knew more about Aegis’s shipping and trading industry than most merchants along the west bank of the bay.
She knew a great many things, and yet Liz couldn’t help lingering on the experiences her short life robbed her of. She’d never been to one of Tia’s infamous revels, never danced barefoot on the beach, or dived from the white cliffs of Morr as other courtiers had done on hot summer nights. Liz had never fallen in love. Tia reached her hand over and linked their small fingers together, as if sensing her dark thoughts.
Glancing over, Tia’s eyes rolled dramatically in the direction of the Priestesses. Liz smiled softly, sadly, her heart aching with happiness and sorrow mingled together. Happiness because of the time she had left, however little remained. Sorrow because of the doubt that refused to settle from her mind. An ominous belief that the Priestesses were wrong, the prophecy wouldn’t be fulfilled with her death, and her life would be forfeited for nothing.
Tia was so brave and wild, dancing all night at revels and indulging in affairs with handsome knights and beautiful courtiers. She rarely had a thought or impulse pass through her mind that she didn’t act on, regardless of the consequences. She’d fallen in love and broken hearts. She dared to dive off the white cliffs of Morr and swim in the open ocean. Liz was so jealous it churned her stomach at times, never begrudging Tia any happiness, only wishing she had been brave enough to defy her father and the Priestesses to join her.
She rose from her knees momentarily, dipping her fingers in the conch to anoint her temples and lips with the saltwater within. There was an audible scoff from someone down the row, but Liz ignored it and resumed her position before the altar.
“When the Blood Moon has reached its peak,
The Red Princess will see unseen,
The threads of fate of two entwine,
Her blood, the magick, then shall bind.
The North Wind will meet the flame,
Magick shall return or forever fade,
One by one the pillars will fall,
He who weds her, will rule us all. "
Tia stood and glared at the young priestess, the girl in the cowl too young to understand what it meant to give her life in service. The words were still ringing in Liz’s ears, snaking around her body, imbued with a strange power over her. Eight pretty lines of rhyming poetry that dictated Liz’s life, and her death. Her knees trembled and she worried they might give way beneath her.
“Did you think she forgot?” Tia ground out between clenched teeth. Liz only bowed her head, allowing her long crimson curls to cover her face and hide her expression for a few moments.
“She should be honored to give her life to the gods. As we are honored by her sacrifice.” Another priestess admonished, before Tia sent them all away with a flippant flick of her dainty wrist. One of the noblewomen, old enough to be Liz’s mother, spat at Tia’s feet as she left.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Liz whispered to her furious friend.
Tia turned her glare on Liz for a moment, before her expression softened. She held out a hand and helped Liz to her feet. Walking towards the large marbled tub, big enough for a dozen women, she snapped impatient fingers and ordered the servants to bring rose petals and buttermilk for a bath. Normally Liz would be quick to return to the library for more research, but today had been particularly difficult and Tia always knew how to ease her worries.
“It’s like the closer the blood moon gets, the bolder they become. Cursed or not, sacrifice or not, you’re still the heir to the throne and the crown princess of Aegis.” Tia shook her head, her tight curls bouncing artfully around her face.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is not making enemies when I won’t be here to protect you,” Liz retorted sharply, the realization of her own words forcing the sting of Tia’s absence like a knife into her side. Just the knowledge that they would be parted was so bitter it stuck fast in her throat.
“As if they would ever see me as anything more than an Islander,” Tia said, her face falling in a way Liz had never seen before. “No one sees me the way you do.” She turned her desperate, amber eyes toward the bath.
Liz reached out and gripped Tia’s hand tight, bringing it to her lips, tasting the sun and salt on her skin. “Idiot.” Liz breathed out, a smile breaking the sorrow that had descended upon them both. “There isn’t a person in Silver City safe from loving you. If they can’t see you, then they don’t deserve you.” Tia’s smile was shaky, but it stretched across the distance between them. A tenuous hold on barely contained emotions deeper than the ocean beyond the windows.
The servants moved toward the tub, sprinkling rose petals in the buttermilk bath, their eyes half-lidded and dreamy. The sweet perfume of oils scented the air and eased some tension lingering in the pit of Liz’s stomach. Liz dropped Tia’s hand and moved closer to the steam rising from the heated bath.
“The words could be romantic,” Tia said, an edge of hysteria in her voice and a bold smile on her lips. Not once in all seventeen winters Liz survived had she thought of the prophecy as romantic. Tugging at the stays of her gown and allowing the servants to help her out of it, she stepped cleanly out of the pile of fine linen and silk.
“How exactly do you justify that?” Liz asked, an unruly chuckle escaping from between her lips. The serving girls helped Tia undress and unwind the golden baubles from her midnight locks.
“Well, it mentions the threads of fate, like in the old stories you’ve told me. Two entwining could be quite romantic indeed, and then at the end it speaks of marriage. Perhaps, the reason you haven’t figured out the riddle yet is because it’s meant to be a love poem and not a harbinger of death.” She stepped swiftly into the bath without any hesitation. Liz sank to her shoulders in the restorative water, perfectly warm, enveloping her in a weightlessness that seemed to extend to her troubles.
She closed her eyes against Tia’s desperate words; she’d felt that way earlier, too. Frayed at the edges, just desperate enough to hang onto hope that was fading faster than the scant light of the sun as it sank low over the bay. Liz tried to keep the tears from filling her eyes; she tried to stop her bottom lip from trembling. She held her breath in a last attempt to keep it from catching, but it was no use. She was a failure at everything tonight.
“If I could have just found some kind of proof. My father would have to listen to me instead of the Priestesses if I had some kind of indication that they got it wrong.” Liz’s voice broke and trailed away. Her nails dug into her palm as her father crossed her thoughts for the first time that day. She wouldn’t allow the pious fool to ruin her time with Tia.
“I’m sorry,” Tia said, struggling to contain her own emotions. After long moments, and the soft pressure of Tia’s hands easing some hidden tension in her shoulders, Liz was able to regain the semblance of composure once more. They had been together as long as Liz could remember, the two of them, closer than sisters and more than friends. Liz tossed her hair over one shoulder and poured the buttermilk and water over her fiery curls. Dampened they were dark, embers instead of flames.