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 FlowerChapter 66: Lives Lost
The procuress settled herself on the floor along with the two younger women and took some dried fruit for herself. "We will have to explain your return to the Holy Mother. She was furious with me when she found you were gone."
"Not because she cares for me," said Nasreen. "Her hatred for all of us who serve in the brothel is obvious to anyone."
"She cares for all the people of the temple," said the procuress. "She will make sure to keep everyone alive by any means necessary. I know it is difficult to understand, especially for ones as young as you both, but she has nothing else left but those who dwell here. She swore an oath to become mother to every priestess, every acolyte, every priest, every scribe, even those who serve tables and scrub floors within this holy building. She is our mother. And she will do whatever she can to make sure every one of us is taken care of."
"Then she should be relieved I have returned from the palace alive and well," said Nasreen.
"She will be relieved. But she may also be angry," said the procuress.
"How is any of this Nasreen's fault?" asked Aisha. "Nasreen did nothing wrong. It is not her fault some prince saw how wonderful she is! We already must hide behind veils and never look a man in the eye. It is not fair that we are not allowed to be what we are. How are we responsible for what they think and feel?"
"You are right," said the procuress. "It is not fair. It is wrong. But the world belongs to the Locusts now. Nasreen's beauty is like a lantern left outside on a summer's night, attracting hoards of pests. In times past, we could shine like the sun, moon, and stars, high out of the reach of the insects. But they found a way in, and now we must hide our faces. And even then it is not enough."
"How can we live like this?" asked Nasreen. "I thought we could teach these men of love and kindness and the virtues of the Lady. I thought if I served, I could help heal their souls. But all they do is take."
"I do not know, child," said the procuress. "There are no answers. The Lady hid her children upon her plateau, but they found us. We tried to fight, but they were too strong. There is nowhere to flee. All we have left is to obey them and pray for deliverance."
Nasreen shook her head, her voice dripping with contempt and disgust. "We obey only so they kill us at a slower rate. In the end is a life like this worth the humiliation?"
Aisha felt the anger and hatred coming off Nasreen in waves. Nasreen, the same Nasreen who willingly sacrificed her body for her friends. The one who comforted Aisha when no one else cared, who joked and smiled and laughed and hoped and planned for the future.
"You are both very young," said the procuress. "You are too young to understand the risks. We must preserve all the lives of the Lady's children no matter the cost."
"That is not true," whispered Aisha. "Some lives are more valuable than others."
"What do you mean, child?" asked the procuress. "Of course it is true."
"What about the men who died with King Pytr?" asked Aisha. "Or the street people? Or the oracle?"
"Or the Narim," added Nasreen. "What about our kin in the desert? Aisha is right. We only seem to care for the Lady's children who live within the walls of the temple."
"You are both very tired," said the procuress. "And we all should be in bed. No more questions tonight. Come, I will let you through to the women's quarters. We will talk with the Holy Mother tomorrow, but for your sakes, I hope your tempers have cooled by then."
The first rays of morning sun filtered through the commander's tent walls, signaling Zayaan it was time to rise and prepare to serve breakfast for the highest ranking officers. He rolled over in his bed, knocking pillows to the floor. He never thought he would prefer the rickety cot in the tent he shared with other recruits to a warm, semiprivate room and a soft place to lay but he did. He found himself unable to sleep sunk inside cushions with sounds of the desert camp deadened behind thicker walls. It left him anxious of attackers’ footsteps muffled by floor coverings, of being unable to react and rise from his tangle of blankets before a killing blow caught him unaware.
His night watches at the western outpost abruptly came to an end the same day the camp's commander informed him of his sudden change in fortune. Zayaan had yet to adjust to sleeping during the nights, much less his new environment. The desert was familiar. Dealing with the politics of the camp's officers was not. Their world was full of unspoken rules and secret intrigues of which he was unaware.
He dragged himself out of bed and pulled on the black linen pants and tunic of his new uniform. He tied the red sash bearing the sign of the locust around his waist, and pulled on uncomfortable black boots, still too tight in their newness. If he ventured outside the tent for more than a few hours, his clothing would be covered with enough dust he would appear almost like any other recruit. But in the last week he had not left the tent, spending his days confined with the commander listening to the gossip of the other officers.
A life inside the fortified walls of the palace was beginning to feel like hope, instead of a place from which he must rescue his sister. Takri had done well for himself there, ingratiating himself to the Locust King. Takri’s treachery earned him a safe place to sleep behind thick walls and his own private quarters. Takri ate the finest food prepared by servants who waited on him hand and foot. Zayaan doubted he spent his days trapped in a tent making tea for a gossiping old man.
Once Zayaan took his place at the palace, maybe sleep would come. And when it did, maybe the nightmares would fade.
Anything would be better than the camp. Once he knew his sister was safe, he could rest. If only for a short time. It wouldn't be forever.
But he was so tired.
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