Well of Sins: Book Four: of Patience & Wrath

By Emma Chichester Clark and Bonnie King

All civilizations have a story or myth of an Armageddon, a great war where good and evil will clash, fighting for the fate of the Universe. Some say good will triumph, others say not.

In the time of Troy, three god-forged items were crafted. None of the gods who made these artifacts knew of the vital role each will play in that battle until history has molded them to its own needs.

From Troy through Moses and to the Emperors of Rome, these items have been influenced by the sins and virtues of those who held them, and in return they have influenced their holders. From one hand to another they have been passed, through the generations. Only centuries after their making will their final purpose be known.

No one truly knows when Armageddon is supposed to begin, but many believe it is right around the corner. They may very well be right. A time approaches where these artifacts will be sought; whether for good or evil remains to be seen. But to understand what these items are, it must be told how they came to be.

Brought from Jerusalem to Samaria, the Cup is guarded by the last Daughter of Arnavon. But she has troubles of her own to worry about.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493162932

Emma Chichester Clark

Emma Chichester Clark studied art at the Royal College of Art. She has worked as a freelancer for magazines, publishers and advertising agencies as well as teaching art for several years, but now dedicates most of her time to children’s books. She was nominated for the Kurt Maschler Award for Illustration twice and ‘I Love You, Blue Kangaroo!’, was shortlisted for the Kate Greenaway Medal.

Book preview

Prologue

Abi-Jah had lived a long and happy life. She had even managed to outlive Anatu, one of the twin girls she had been hired to teach and care for. She had watched both grow into beautiful young women, and when they had daughters of their own, and then they had daughters, Abi-Jah taught and cared for them as well.

When Zada and Anatu’s five-year-old granddaughters, Becca and Beth, sniffled and asked why Sissy Abi had to go, their mothers patted their shoulders and stroked their hair and told them that the Lord had called Abi-Jah home.

And they had no idea how very right they were.

Yahweh usually had no qualms about letting Lilith do as she pleased, so long as she obeyed the rules and didn’t get hurt. However, there was a bit of an emergency going on and she was needed.

Samael, Yahweh’s Angel of Death, had gone missing. Yahweh had confided to Lilith that the archangel had been acting strangely ever since the debacle involving the soul of one of his dear friends. The fact that Samael had somehow managed to care for a human on an individual level was upsetting enough. But then Samael began to question things.

The last time that happened, a full third of the heavenly host tumbled to the ground.

So Lilith had to end her existence as Abi-Jah, though regrettably so. She had come to enjoy the life she had carved out for herself in the family of Ibn of the Exodus’s distant descendants. But her father had been right. If anyone could find Samael, it was her.

This left her in quite a pickle, though. True, she had taught Zada and Anatu about the Cup, and they had learned the use of their father’s daggers from a master veteran. But even though those lessons had been handed down to their daughters and granddaughters, Lilith was reluctant to leave the Cup.

She sighed deeply as she stood unseen at her own funeral. She was sad that she had to leave and worried that something horrible might happen to the Cup in her absence. She sighed again and turned away. She had to have faith in the girls. She had given them everything they would need to watch over the Cup. And hopefully, she wouldn’t be gone too long.

A presence tickled the edge of her senses as the air pressure shifted. She turned to see Aeneas teleporting in from his office down in Hades.

I heard the news, he said sadly. He hadn’t known Samael all that long, but Lilith could tell that they had become good friends during their quest to find Uriah’s lost soul.

I’m going to try to find him, but I’m not sure if I can. If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be.

Aeneas nodded. I wish I could join you, but Hades is still a little mad at me for abandoning my post last time. He actually blushed in embarrassment and turned his head away.

Lilith offered him a small smile. It’s the thought that counts.

Aeneas nodded as he looked to her again. I’ll keep my ears and eyes open, though. Just because he’s missing doesn’t mean he will neglect a soul in need of help getting to the afterlife if he sees one.

The thought lifted Lilith’s spirits a bit and she was thankful for it. But that’s how Aeneas was; he always said just the right thing to make someone feel better.

I’m going to Asgard first to talk to Gretzelda. I don’t know if she’ll be able to join me, but she may have heard something.

A good plan, Aeneas said.

Silence settled over them as they watched the girls Lilith had considered family turn and leave for home.

I’m sorry, Aeneas said, perhaps sensing her sadness at leaving.

She shook her head. Don’t apologize. It’s certainly not your fault. She looked skyward and heaved one more sigh. I just hope he hasn’t done something rash. She looked back to Aeneas and smiled. I’ll see you later.

Good luck.

With that, she disappeared in a flash of light and lavender sparkles. Aeneas soon followed, though he did not return to his office. He decided to first pay a visit to his favorite cousin, Apollo.

* * * * * * *

When King Solomon died five years later, he did not leave a united kingdom behind. Even before his death, there was a conspiracy to take the throne from him. The chief superintendent of Solomon’s forced laborers, Jeroboam, had long harbored delusions of grandeur. He tried to surreptitiously take control of the tribes, but was discovered. Before he could be punished, he fled to Egypt and sought sanctuary from Pharaoh Shishaq.

Upon Solomon’s death, few of the Israeli tribes were content to let his son Rehoboam ascend the throne. It was easy for Jeroboam to return and convince the rebel tribes to follow him instead. Only the tribes of Judah and Benjamin remained loyal to Solomon’s son.

Thus the kingdom was split in two. The larger portion to the north remained known as Israel, with Shechem as its new capital. The smaller southern part became known as Judah and retained the capital of Jerusalem.

Even as battles raged along the new border of these two kingdoms, very little changed for the family of Arnavon. They remained in Jerusalem and helped their cousin’s business. They made homes for their families and socialized with friends. But more than anything, they trained.

The Daughters of Arnavon learned about the Cup’s past and the uncertainty of its future. They learned how to wield daggers, though only the eldest daughter on each side of the family—one of Zada’s line, the other of Anatu’s—received one of the legendary knives that had belonged to their ancestor, Ibn. But even as the girls became proficient with the blades, none of them thought they would have to use them.

They were wrong.

Ruling the northern tribes was not enough for Jeroboam. He had wanted to rule all of them and decided those that remained steadfast in their loyalty to Rehoboam should be punished.

While in Egypt, Jeroboam had struck up a strong alliance with the pharaoh. He told Shishaq of Judah’s complacent military. It would be a simple matter for the pharaoh’s great armies to claim the land for themselves. So five years after Israel and Judah were separated, Shishaq advanced on Judah, taking many cities as he went.

Upon reaching Jerusalem, Shishaq was met by Rehoboam. The king did not put up a defense of any sort and in fact welcomed Shishaq into the city. He then offered all the treasures in his father’s great temple as tribute. This decision was called cowardly by some and brilliant by others.

For the Daughters of Arnavon, it was downright catastrophic. They had vowed to protect the Cup from evil influence, and they were sure they would not be allowed to follow it back to Egypt. They had only one choice: they would have to steal the Cup before Shishaq’s men came to claim the treasure.

As they were by no means experts in the art of thievery—or any other kind of covert operations, really—their timing was off. Instead of taking the Cup and fleeing before anyone noticed, they instead arrived as the Egyptians were loading carts with the temple’s riches.

The youngest Daughters—fifteen-year-old cousins Becca and Beth—had just received their several-times-great-grandfather’s daggers only days ago. As they were the most able, they realized that it was up to them to retrieve the Cup. Meanwhile, their mothers, grandmothers, and great-grandmother Zada prepared their family for departure. As soon as the younger girls had the Cup, the family of Arnavon would flee to the north and hopefully find sanctuary in Shechem.

The girls hid and watched as the priests were unceremoniously shoved out of the temple. Those priests then loitered about the upper court, grumbling to each other.

Becca huffed impatiently. There’s obviously nothing they can do, she groused quietly. Why don’t they just go home?

They’re just as upset about this as we are, Beth said gently. This is pure, unadulterated sacrilege in their eyes.

"Then they should do something about it! Becca hissed. Is this not an affront to our Lord? Why aren’t the priests standing up to the Egyptians? If anything, they should be the most willing to put an end to this!"

Beth sighed. Sometimes it is better to bend, lest you break completely.

In other words, they’re weak.

Beth sighed again but said no more. Becca was the more aggressive of the two, and Beth had learned early on that it was best not to push her cousin.

So they waited—one far more patiently than the other. After about an hour, several of the priests left, more trickling away thereafter. Finally, there were few enough that the girls could enter the temple proper unnoticed.

Though they had infiltrated the building many times as children, they usually stuck to the outer chambers. Those were far easier for two small girls to sneak into unnoticed. However, the Cup was kept in the most sacred chamber—the Holy of Holies—along with the Ark of the Covenant. They had never been in there before as security had always been too tight. But now, with the hustle and bustle and minor chaos caused by the Egyptian soldiers, Beth and Becca figured it would be easier, especially with the Egyptians focusing on the outer chambers.

Unfortunately, they again misaimed. As they approached the veil that closed off the Holy of Holies, they caught snippets of an odd conversation.

Should we tell the boss about this? a male voice asked.

Which boss? We have a couple, a second answered.

"The one we’re not eternally bound to," the first man said.

Yeah, I’d rather not get him involved, the second replied with a tone of distaste. He’s probably really upset at us. I mean, we’ve been gone a long time without so much as a note.

"Exactly. So yes, I meant the other boss."

The more… entertaining one.

Yes. Should we tell him about this?

I don’t know, the second answered. Would it matter?

He might find it interesting, the first said.

The pair grew quiet for a moment before the second answered, Well, even if we do tell him, it won’t matter much. By this time tomorrow, the Egyptians will have it.

The first sighed. I supposed we could just keep an eye on things for the time being. I mean, it might be nice to go home.

"It has been a while," the second said.

The girls exchanged confused glances. Neither could fathom what the men were talking about.

Are they priests? Beth whispered.

They have to be, Becca said. "Why would Egyptians refer to their own people as Egyptians?"

Beth nodded. That was a very valid point. But she was sure all of the priests had been evicted.

It doesn’t really matter, Becca continued. We need to get the Cup, and they’re in our way.

But if they’re priests… we can’t just kill them.

Becca frowned. I know it’s upsetting, Beth. But they won’t let us just walk out with the Cup any more than an Egyptian soldier would. We don’t have a choice.

Beth frowned as well but nodded her assent. They both knew the risks going into this situation, and both were prepared to take those risks. But it didn’t mean Beth had to like it.

The girls peeked through the curtain and were surprised to find that the men were Egyptians, soldiers in fact. The strange conversation made even less sense now. However, it did make the mission much easier to bear.

Becca was quicker to react, drawing her dagger and dashing through the curtain. She lunged at the closest soldier. He dropped to the ground in seconds, a look of surprise frozen on his face. The other guard fumbled for his sword, still trying to process what had just happened. He ran at Becca but stumbled and fell as Beth tripped him.

Becca rolled her eyes and gave her cousin a look of exasperation. She knew Beth would rather save violence for an absolute last resort, but sometimes such things were necessary. Keeping the Egyptians away from the Cup and the Ark was completely necessary. So it was with little regret that Becca drove her dagger through the soldier’s back as he floundered on the floor.

Beth went to the doorway and acted as lookout while Becca grabbed the Cup. As she passed the Ark, Becca debated on what to do. There was no way the two of them could push it across the floor, much less lift it.

So, she did the only thing she could. She clasped the Cup in both hands, held it to her chest, squeezed her eyes shut, and prayed. Hard. She begged the Lord to hide the Ark, at least until the Egyptians were gone. When she opened her eyes and looked down, she was distressed to see the Ark still there. With a defeated sigh she joined her cousin in the doorway.

They had done what they had been tasked to do. Everything else was in Yahweh’s hands. The pair quickly and quietly made their way out of the temple and into the growing twilight. Come morning, the family of Arnavon was long gone.

The priests later returned to the ransacked temple to inspect the damage. They were overjoyed to find the Ark still there, the only sign of disturbance a single laurel branch laid across the Ark’s cover.

It would be another few days before anyone realized the Cup was missing.

* * * * * * *

The Arnavon family fled north as quickly as they could. They had taken only what they could carry, as wagons would surely slow them down. The fact that they had stolen from the temple was bad enough. Two Egyptian guards were now dead by Becca’s hand. If word about that ever got out, there would be hell to pay.

But even when they crossed the borders into the land of Israel, they were not safe. As they had come from Judah, they would automatically be marked as enemies. They kept to the shadows, traveling primarily at night and hiding in whatever nooks and crannies they could find along the way. While they avoided capture, it was no way to live. Something would have to be done, and quickly.

It was Becca’s mother who had the idea to use the Cup as leverage. Surely, if they presented such a priceless item to the king, he would grant them clemency. So the younger girls, including Beth and Becca, were dressed up in whatever finery they could find. Their hair was done up and gold bracelets were slipped on their wrists. The few young men of the family escorted them to the palace in Shechem where they asked for an audience with the king. It was granted, and the entourage entered the throne room, Beth and Becca leading the way.

They all knelt to the king, keeping their eyes low.

We thank you for this audience, my lord, Beth said. It had been decided that she would do most of the talking, as she simply had better manners than her fiery cousin.

Please rise and tell me why you have come, the king said.

The group stood and Beth took a small step forward. We have recently fled Judah—

She was cut off by whispering and murmuring from those in the court. The king held up a hand for silence and asked, Why did you flee?

The pharaoh has been leading a campaign against Judah, Beth explained. Upon reaching Jerusalem, Rehoboam simply surrendered.

Did he now? the king asked with interest.

Yes, Beth said, unable to stop the small drop of venom that entered her voice. He handed over all of the temple’s treasure and offered Judah up as a vassal state.

And this did not sit well with you and your companions? the king asked.

They are my family, my lord, Beth corrected. Our elders have sent us here to seek your generosity.

Why should I give it to you? the king asked, though not harshly. Judah is my enemy, thus so should you be.

We have brought a gift, sire. A tribute. Beth motioned one of her male cousins over. He held out a box so that Beth could open it. She brought out the Cup and presented it to the king. We were able to rescue this Cup from the temple, she said. It was the reason we had to leave so quickly.

It’s lovely, but I have dozens just like it, the king said. His expression was bored, and he seemed moments from ordering their imprisonment.

Oh, I don’t think you do, Becca said, ignoring her cousin’s glare and stepping forward. This is not just any drinking vessel. It is the Cup of Kings, brought across the River Jordan by Joshua himself.

Another round of murmurs swept through the chamber.

The king gave the Cup an appraising stare. I have heard tales that it is ringed with stones, some of which no master gem-cutter has been able to identify.

Beth slowly turned the Cup, showing off the gems.

And at the bottom of the bowl is a symbol, one that no artist has been able to duplicate, the king said.

Beth stepped forward and tipped the Cup, allowing the king to look into it.

Yes! The lyre and sunburst! the king cried. This is it! This is Joshua’s Cup!

The murmurs grew louder as Becca and Beth shared a knowing look and a smile.

Rehoboam would have handed this over to the Egyptians, Becca said. "But we could not let that happen. It belongs to Israel and should be held only by an Israelite. Rehoboam has shown he has no concern for our past, the hardships our people have endured.

But you saw that, long before anyone else. You rebelled against his rule because you knew he was not worthy.

This is true, the king said, his eyes having not left the Cup.

This is why we wish you to have it, my lord, Beth said. You have remained true to the many sacrifices our people have had to make. You are worthy of holding the King’s Cup. She then handed it to the king, and he gladly took it.

What is your family name, my dear? he asked as he turned the Cup around in his hands.

We are the Family Arnavon, sire, Becca answered with pride.

The king nodded. Then you and your family shall find a home in my kingdom, and let none forget that you have retrieved for the People this great treasure.

We are honored to serve, my lord, Beth said, sweeping low into a bow that her family mimicked a moment later.

I must have wine! the king called. A servant scurried out of the hall and rushed back in a moment later. The Cup was filled and the king stood, raising it high. A toast! he said. To Moses, who led our people to the Promised Land! To Joshua, who conquered the heathens and made this land safe for us! To David, the slayer of the mighty giant! And to the humble family of Arnavon, whose dedication to the Children of Israel shall never be forgotten!

Everyone in the throne room cheered as the king brought the Cup to his lips. He drank deeply and then smacked his lips. He frowned as he detected a slight brackishness in the taste. I will have to speak to my wine steward, he thought. Either my stock has turned, or he’s taking the best vintages for himself.

He turned back to the small group before him. In honor of your bravery and devotion to the People, your family shall dine with me tonight. Fetch your elders and bring them here. I am hosting another family tonight as well. They are very important merchants wishing to reestablish trade routes. We shall make a right celebration of it!

As you wish, my lord, Beth said. The group hurried out of the throne room, with Becca and Beth giggling in triumph the entire way.

* * * * * * *

The feast that evening was lavish indeed, and the hungry Arnavon family took full advantage. The merchant and his entourage did not arrive until later, and every Arnavon was startled to hear him introduced as the future Ibn of Marshell.

Zada hobbled over to the young man and introduced herself. Recognizing her as being a member of his own family, he hugged her tightly. More reunions were made, and the king was overjoyed with such a happy coincidence.

As the night wore on, it was clear that the young merchant was becoming more and more preoccupied with Becca. He did everything he could to engage her in conversation, going so far as to follow her around the room.

The king saw this and became intrigued. After a small bit of investigation, he discovered that the two were quite distant in relation, thus making marriage a possibility. Wouldn’t that be the happiest ending to the refugees’ tale? He encouraged the relationship that night and every day following.

Luckily, Becca was just as encouraging.

You shall come back to Tyre with me, the soon-to-be Ibn said. You shall be my wife and the mother of my children. Becca looked nonplussed and cocked an eyebrow. The young trader glanced at the elaborate dagger strapped to her lower back and said, Please.

Of course, my darling, Becca said with an amused air. "How can I resist with you being so forceful and all?"

They were married quickly and with great ceremony in Shechem, upholding all of the rituals of Jewish custom. On their wedding night, the trader told Becca that they would have another ceremony upon returning to Tyre. He was insistent that his side of the family meet and greet his new bride according to their own traditions.

Are you not of the People too? Becca asked.

For the most part, yes, he answered. With a few small differences.

Over the centuries, religious practices in Phoenicia had evolved and changed independent of the Kingdom of Israel. Where most Israelites had stopped using the word Baal to describe Yahweh, those in Phoenicia continued the practice. After all, it only meant lord or master, which was, for all intents and purposes, exactly what Yahweh was. He was given other names as well, such as Melqart and Hadad. He was seen as the Lord of the Land and the bestower of prosperity. But no matter what name the people of Phoenicia called out, it was Yahweh who heard them.

Of course, the name of their Lord was not the only thing that changed. Some standard practices died away while others were newly created. Great feasts and celebrations were held, usually with an abundance of wine. This would lead to many couplings that would in turn lead to many children.

Usually, this was a good thing. However, every so often, a child was born sickly or deformed. The people knew these poor children would never lead happy lives, much less long ones. And if by some miracle they did survive, they would never be productive members of the community.

So, somewhere along the line, someone decided that these poor souls should be returned to Heaven so that they could perhaps one day be reborn into a stronger, healthier, happier life. These unfortunate children would be drugged, first falling into a deep sleep, and then into death. Their bodies would be burned on great pyres and the people would sing songs of love and hope.

Those divine beings responsible for escorting souls into the afterlife were never busier than on those days. It was on these days that Samael’s absence was most notably felt.

Becca was worried at the prospect of having to adhere to so many new and strange practices. The only thing that eased her mind was her duty as a Daughter of Arnavon. Even though she was leagues away from the very object she had sworn to protect, she carried on her training.

All too soon, her husband—the scion of the family of Josiah—became the newest Ibn of Marshell. The ring that would have been passed to him had long since been lost. It had been taken from the dead hand of Becca’s own great-grandfather. Even so, this Ibn led his family just as all the other Ibns before him had.

It took only a year for Becca to bear their first child. It was a beautiful, raven-haired little girl that Becca named Ruth.

In time, Becca bore two more children, both sons, fine and strong. When still very young, they were inducted into the family business, learning their numbers and simple arithmetic earlier than others their age. They would go on to become great traders, adding to the family’s already-considerable wealth.

All three children were raised in the ways of the Tyrian people. Baal was worshipped and the rituals were learned. Throughout it all, Becca tried to slip in the traditions she had been raised in, thus making their household’s religion a mixed mash-up of two seemingly opposite worlds.

One such tradition Becca refused to abandon was teaching her daughter about protecting the Cup, though it was harder to do so without it being right there to look at. Still, she did her best, and her daughter soaked it all in. Perhaps a bit too much.

Ruth was not like other girls. Where they would primp and preen, Ruth was content to tie her hair back in a messy knot, its only function to keep it out of her eyes. Where other girls would giggle and flirt with boys, Ruth would challenge them to sparring matches—nearly all of which she won. Even Ruth’s dolls were violent, attacking the dolls of other girls with miniature handmade swords or spears.

Becca despaired. She was worried that Ruth would never find a man to marry, that she would never have a daughter of her own. She was afraid her branch of the Daughters of Arnavon would die out. As Ruth grew, most of the boys in Tyre became wary of her. Sure, she had been fun to play with when they were younger, but Ruth was too strong-willed to make a good wife.

Luckily, there was one young man who thought differently. He was handsome and of noble blood, and quite frankly, he was sick and tired of the way girls would fawn all over him. His own father despaired and worried the young man would never marry as he thought the women in town were all simpering ninnies.

Then he met Ruth. It was the same old story. Boy meets girl. Girl falls for boy. Boy gets knocked on his hind end for no reason at all… and decides that this was the girl he would marry.

Ibn of Marshell was quite pleased with this. Usually, marriages were done for routes and advantages in trade. For the first time, one of their number was marrying into nobility.

Becca was just happy her daughter had found someone that could handle her.

When Ruth was fifteen, she and her nobleman married. She was also quick to have a daughter of her own, named Abeeza. Though Ruth’s husband did not like the overly-feminine behaviors of the other women in town, he still saw to it that his daughter was raised as a princess should be. She was showered with gifts and dressed in the finest silks. Beloved cousins taught her the arts of applying makeup and flirting.

All the while, Becca tried to train Abeeza as the generations before her had been. Unfortunately, the girl just could not wrap her head around the concept of protecting a Cup, regardless of how pretty it was supposed to be. If it got broken or stolen, could it not just be replaced? And whatever would she need a dagger for? Self-defense? Wasn’t that what the men were for?

No, powders and cosmetics were Abeeza’s domain. Her cousins gave her all the weapons she would need: a cocked eyebrow, fluttering lashes, a well-placed bodice-bursting sigh. Her arsenal was full enough, thank you.

* * * * * * *

Lilith stood at the bedside of the last Daughter of Arnavon in Samaria, the latest capital of the Kingdom of Israel. Though she was not yet too old to guard the Cup, she would last perhaps only a dozen or so years more. All of the other Daughters had perished due to sickness or treachery. This last one’s daughter had given her life to protect the Cup when thieves had tried to steal it out of the temple.

What was Lilith going to do?

She then felt the by-now familiar presence of Aeneas. He stepped up to her side silently.

No word, he said simply, anticipating Lilith’s question and wishing he could give a different answer.

Lilith let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. I fear we may never find him, she whispered. I’ve already spoken with Gretzelda. She hasn’t heard anything either, nor will she be able to help look for him.

Samael was still missing, and Lilith had long ago realized just how much she had depended upon his support. Her father was still refusing to listen to her about the danger the Cup presented, and she felt as if she stood alone in her fear.

That is, until she felt Aeneas’s gentle hand on her shoulder. She had to remind herself that she wasn’t alone. If anything, Aeneas had a greater connection to the Cup than even she. He had been there when the pact between Apollo and Troy had first been broken. Even though it had all been far beyond his control, he still harbored guilt over the Cup’s contamination.

So, she wasn’t alone. But she was still in trouble. While the Cup was no harder for her to see than it had been when Zada and Anatu were but children, she knew it could get worse at any moment. The Daughters of Arnavon had been her eyes and ears these many years, and now she felt as if she was suddenly going blind and deaf.

She didn’t even say anything before turning away from the bed and Aeneas and teleporting away in a flash and shower of sparkles. Having long become accustomed to her divine signature, Aeneas was able to follow a heartbeat later.

They arrived in Abeeza’s bedchambers. She sat combing her long, lustrous hair. She was bedecked in jewels and silk and was humming softly to herself.

There’s no way she can protect the Cup, Lilith said forlornly.

What about her mother? Aeneas asked.

Lilith shook her head. Ruth’s still far too violent. I fear she would be affected by the taint.

Does this one not have daughters?

This time, Lilith nodded. Two, with Eth’Baal, king of Sidon. Both girls are terribly timid, though. Neither would be suited for the possible dangers. She sighed. I don’t know what I’m going to do. My only hope is that Abeeza will succeed in getting her husband to give her a third daughter.

At nineteen, Abeeza was still young and healthy enough to bear another child.

Aeneas cocked his head to the side, and his eyes took on a faraway look. I think… Yes… I have an idea, he said as his gaze focused once again. I’ll have to act quickly, though. Hopefully Gretzelda isn’t too busy to get me an audience with Freya. Don’t worry, Lilith, he said, placing a light peck on her cheek, everything will work out. And then he was gone.

Lilith blinked in confusion as she regarded Abeeza once more. Shaking her head, Lilith took her leave as well. Abeeza was none the wiser.

* * * * * * *

It seemed that luck was on Lilith’s side as Abeeza did indeed have a third child. The babe was a beautiful little girl. But where her elder sisters had been quiet, even upon their birth, this one let out a piercing wail that seemed to echo all throughout the small palace. It was not a cry of distress or fear, however. All who had heard it immediately recognized it as a battle cry. This child would take the world by storm. She would make it hers or die trying.

Some saw her as a demon in the making. Lilith saw her as a prime candidate for protecting the Cup.

Her parents, however, simply saw her as Jezebel.

Chapter 1

The slapping sound of bare footfalls on stone echoed through the halls of the Sidonian palace. This was not the pitter-patter of little feet, though they were small. The steps were hurried and frantic, as was the breathing that accompanied them. A young girl, no more than ten, tore through the corridors with fearful determination. Her long hair whipped behind her as she ran, and her dress threatened to get tangled in her legs. She hiked the hem up so she could continue unhindered. She had to get away from those who would capture her and make her do terrible things against her will.

She was going too fast as she rounded a corner, her feet nearly sliding out from under her. She righted herself and kept going, stopping only when she thought her pursuers were far enough behind. She leaned against the wall, heaving deep