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 EaglesChapter 64: Aisha's Prayer
Aisha lay awake in the women’s dormitory, shivering against the cold seeping through the walls and windows. Under normal circumstances, the room’s use as sleeping quarters was confined to warmer months, with high ceilings and windows to catch the mountain breezes. The winter sleeping quarters now served as a barracks for the temple guards and lower orders of the priests of the Locust. The women had done their best to cover the windows to keep the wind out of the room, but Aisha felt colder than she ever had in her sheltered life. In the palace, she would be spending the night under goose down blankets in a room with a roaring fire, or even snuggled next to her mother listening to stories of their ancestors and the trials of the Goddess.
But here, she was alone in a room full of strangers who knew her not as Princess Irinya, but as Aisha, the young librarian who smelled of ink and parchments and kept to herself.
Perhaps the cold would be a little better if she was snuggled next to Nasreen under their woolen blankets. But Nasreen was not there. The procuress told her to pray for Nasreen's safe return.
Aisha prayed.
Just as the holy council of grandmothers had when word of the destruction of the Narim came to the city. Just as her mother had done. No answer or deliverance came from the Lady. If the Lady did not answer the holy women’s prayers to save Her own people, why would She grant the life of one temple prostitute?
Aisha prayed anyway.
Nasreen did not return.
The Goddess in the story contained in the scroll was not the all-powerful being Queen Mila spoke of on cold winter nights in front of the fire. That being rose into the heavens and defeated death. The Lady in the scroll gave birth to children created in Her womb with the seed of Her husband, a man who She was unable to convince to stay by Her side. She gave her own feathers to save Her children, but those children were never to be restored to human form again. Only the youngest child survived, not as an immortal divine being, but as human. A mortal orphan abandoned by her divine Mother and raised by strangers while her father wallowed in guilt next to a river of tears.
Could the Lady save us? Can She hear us cry for help?
Aisha crept from her bed to Nasreen's pallet, pulling her blanket with her. She wrapped herself in both blankets, Nasreen's scent comforting her against the cold.
What if she is already dead? Would I know? I didn't know when my own mother died. I didn't know the moment my father was killed. Not knowing is worse.
Deep sobs wracked her small frame under the covers. How could she survive without Nasreen? She had no one left but her friend. The Holy Mother hated her. The procuress only spoke to her because of Nasreen. Her work in the library kept her isolated from the other women, most of whom stayed far away from the strange small girl who smelled of vinegar and urine. Even Manah had deserted her for the relative safety of the countryside. Without Nasreen, she was completely alone.
She was already powerless.
Maybe the Lady was, too.
Aisha cried herself to sleep, repeating one prayer until oblivion and exhaustion took her.
Bring her back.
Bring her back.
Bring her back.
Nasreen pulled her hand away from Takri's grasp under the table, wiping her hands on the silk of her robes. Lilua reminded her so much of little Aisha. Fearful and timid, but with a strength of will running underneath. If she made it back to the temple, she would do whatever it took to make sure Aisha never became the shell of herself that the little Narim girl had become. Lilua’s song, so full of grief and longing, was not something that could be ignored. If the Narim girl was allowed to become who she truly was, she would be unstoppable.
But now, she sat docile on Mahleck's lap, scars hidden behind shimmering black hair and purple silk. He would ensure she never became anything more than his pet and plaything. Feeding from her. Never allowing her to fully become what she could be. He was the Locust King, consuming all that came before him, and leaving nothing but rock and dirt in his wake.
Takri's hand tried to find Nasreen's again under the table, but she pulled away once more. He would find no pleasure with her ever again, much less tonight, after she had seen how he was so eager to lick the boots of the same monster who kept his younger cousin as a pet.
"I believe it is time for the ladies to take their leave of us," said Mahleck. "Lilua's delicate constitution must be depleted after her performance this evening. And if it pleases you, Lord Prince, I think Nasreen should be sent back to the brothel where she belongs. Don't you agree?"
Takri nodded his assent. He had watched Nasreen enter the room hours ago strong and confident as a lioness, beautiful in her silks and jewelry. Now, she looked defeated. Humiliated. Humbled. Although she was unveiled, her face was now a mask hiding her true self from him. He thought back to their time together in the brothel. Their holy joining of bodies and selves inside that small room, words of love spoken, the passion he knew she felt towards him, and that he felt towards her.
It was more than just being his first. And now, she was being taken from him by the monster. To shield her from the strigoi-viu, he would forego the sacred love and passion they both felt. It was better if she was alive than dead.
He must keep his distance. And she must be sent away from him.
"Baraz, fetch the eunuchs," said Mahleck before turning to address his wife. "Lilua, I will not be in need of your company tonight. I am sure you will understand if my bed will be otherwise occupied."
Lilua silently nodded and rose to greet Floryan and Luka as they entered the room. Both women covered themselves with their veils, Lilua's fingers weaving another message to her cousin as she bowed before the men.
Be careful. His touch is death.
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