Lost Priestess

By Barbara Lund

Love and magic might change the world, but will that change be good for anyone?
Sumi has served in the City of Temples for so long she’s almost forgotten her own name; she even thinks of herself as just the high priestess of the dark goddess Maldita. Sumi trains those who possess magic, sells their talents, collects their tithes. When the occasion demands it, she even offers up her own body as a vessel, so Maldita can preside over Her congregation in person.
But now people from the neighboring city to the west are sneaking in to preach their own religion— and they say Maldita is not the goddess She seems, but merely a demon to be slain.
In contrast to their hate, a new temple servitor speaks of neighbors, community, and a family that loves him. His stories of life outside the temples’ influence might be true. Worse... he treats Sumi like a personinstead of a vessel, and her heart softens.
Threats loom from without and within the dark temple. Unable to leave the grounds, Sumi chafes at her duties, and begins to think oh-so-secretly of rebellion against Maldita...
In a confrontation with a goddess, who will survive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barbara Lund
• Release date: Dec 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781944127398

Barbara Lund

Award-winning speculative fiction author Barbara Lund has several indie-published novels, dozens of short stories, and has been traditionally published in Daily Science Fiction and L. Ron Hubbard Presents Writers of the Future, Volume 37 (November 2021).She won the Writers of the Future Golden Pen (2021), along with a First Place, three Silver Honorable Mentions, and two Honorable Mentions. She won the 24th Annual Critters Best Magical Realism Short Story.She's always working on new novels and short stories.Add a husband, two kids, and a martial arts obsession, and she keeps pretty busy.

Book preview

Chapter

One

High Priestess of Maldita

Change is hard.

Change is especially hard in the City of Temples, where the bright goddess rules over the Blessed Third, the dark goddess rules over the Damned Third, and those of the Rest Third get along as best they can, without temple or goddess to guide them.

True change doesn’t happen like the storytellers say— one shining moment of sudden choice and then the world is saved and everyone lives happily forever. No, it requires one hard choice after another after another, and no matter how far we’d come since I’d taken— torn… ripped from my predecessor’s dead body?— the role of high priestess, we still had far to go.

The position of High Priestess of the Temple of the Damned, Vessel and Voice of the dark goddess Maldita, and nominal ruler of the Damned Third, came with a lovely spacious office in shades of black and blood, with a skylight to view the full moon and a massive magi-created window overlooking the pits behind the temple. It came with a bevy of under-priestessi and magi and servitors, who allegedly served my every whim. It came with the aching loneliness and paranoia that belonged to every high position in the City of Temples.

And it came with none-too-few headaches, like the one standing before me in my lovely office.

Eya was nearly as young as I had been when I graduated from servitor to lowest-ranked under-priestess, which spoke well of her power and skill; the finger-length orange hair only faintly streaked with black and her cheeks stained with tears and kohl running from around her eyes spoke ill of her control.

That and the guards gripping her upper arms, having dragged her back through the Damned Third of the city after she’d tried to run away. With a guard from the Rest Third.

"He loves me," she sobbed delicately.

I fought not to roll my eyes like the young under-priestess I had once been. First, because I could never cry so prettily— my eyes puffed and my nose ran, while she still looked as dainty as ever— and second, because we would see how much he truly loved her. The guard in question had also been dragged to the Temple of the Damned, and currently sat in a cell in the basement.

One headache at a time.

Eya, I started, leaning forward to rest my hands on my desk.

She babbled right over me. You can’t keep me here. You can’t!

The dark goddess stirred inside me, sending a bolt of rage through my body. Maldita hated being told what to do even more than I did. I clamped my mouth shut to keep from saying anything, to keep from giving Her any more power over me than She already had.

Eya shouted, "You can’t keep me here! You can’t, you can’t, you can’t!"

My hair started to float and my eyes pricked.

That feeling meant my eyes were changing from their usual bloody-red to black from lid to lid.

The dark goddess and I were losing our tempers.

You can kill her, muttered Hana, the Purple woman who’d brought Eya to me. Your predecessor would have.

I shook my head and used my magic to push the dark goddess back so I could keep control. As Hana had probably intended, her reminder of my predecessor jolted me out of the desire to do just that. We’d had many conversations about the easy way not being the right way. Instead I snarled at the Orange woman who stood before me. "I could kill her, or I could keep her."

Time for Eya to learn why I was the high priestess of the dark goddess. I gathered magic from my core, readying the push and pull to pin her in place if necessary. I jerked a nod, signalling the guards to drop her to her knees on the tile floor.

You’re just doing this because I’m Orange! Eya collapsed on her own, weeping.

Wait. What?

The goddess paused as if She had stubbed Her toe, and Her confusion swamped me.

We discussed this, I thought at Her. Some people judge each other by their colors. Purples, Blues, and Browns are higher caste; Oranges and Yellows are lower caste. Reds and Greens are middle.

She replied in a snarl of disbelief, rage, and hunger. Red for blood, white for bone, black for soul. These are the only colors that matter. Give her to Me!

I fought Her like I usually did, sweat popping on my skin at the reminder of Her presence inside me. The price of being Her high priestess. If I couldn’t control Her…

All hell would break loose. Literally.

Let me do my job! I clenched my teeth and pushed until She was not-exactly-caged, but at least back again.

My hair settled and my eyes stopped prickling. From hours spent staring at the previous high priestess and more hours spent in front of my own very expensive mirror, I knew that feeling meant they had returned to their normal bloody red. I smoothed my hair while I contemplated Eya’s words, soothed by the thick black streaks running through its blood red. No one could pity my magical strength.

Was the under-priestess right? Was I treating her differently because she was Orange?

Having been a dark Red during my formative years, when Pink might have been acceptable but dark Red was not, I remembered feeling scared all the time because of the color of my skin, my eyes, my hair. But Eya didn’t look scared. She looked like she was watching for my reaction.

Hana snorted, tossing her waist-length purple hair over one shoulder. Your actions demand your death, under-priestess. Our current high priestess has already let you live longer than her predecessor would have.

I pretended to ignore her again. Hana had been one of my mentors since I’d come to the dark temple; she knew I’d never truly ignore her.

So. What if one of the others had tried to run from the Temple of the Damned? A higher-caste Blue or Purple? Hana herself, Lena, or some other? The dark goddess would have still hungered. Blood, bone, and soul, as She had said. Would I have killed one of them?

This has nothing to do with your color, I said softly, agreeing with Hana, and everything to do with your actions. You ran away. You tried to escape the dark goddess. You should know by now that no one ever escapes Her.

I allowed a trickle of Maldita’s power to reach out and change the girl’s oath. You are confined within the walls of the dark temple, I told her, with a hint of blood in my voice. You’ll need to earn the privilege of going beyond them.

Eya mewled in pain as the harsher restrictions settled into her.

Hana was right: the previous high priestess would have killed the girl and let the dark goddess consume her soul, but I was trying to soften some of the traditional punishments. Bring change to the dark temple. Better a little pain now than overwhelming pain— or death— later.

Obviously the under-priestess didn’t share my sentiment. You’re a demon! she shrieked, and curled around her pain to writhe on the floor.

I’d have had more sympathy if I hadn’t the deepest, most painful restriction of them all: Maldita’s presence inside my very soul. All the time.

Take her back to her room, I told the guards. The night was almost over; soon I’d be able to escape my life by sleeping for a few hours of daylight.

At least he loves me, Eya shrieked as the guards lifted her and carried her through the door. No one will ever love you! You will always be alone!

True, Maldita, dark goddess of the Temple of the Damned whispered inside my head. You are Mine. None love you but Me.

I sighed and ignored them both. I’d had a lot of practice. The damned goddess should know I was never alone, since She was with me. All the time.

Leaving Priestess Hana to deal with Eya, I went down to the other half of this headache: the Rest Third guard in the cell in the basement of the temple.

It didn’t look like the dungeon beneath the Temple of the Blessed. I’d been down there more than once, and despite the high ceilings, that place looked and smelled like a dungeon. I shuddered. This place, with similar high ceilings, wide halls, and large rooms, looked and smelled more like the storage area we used it for, except for the cells at the center of the building.

We stored food down here.

Who’d want to eat food tainted by the stench of prisoners?

Ick.

The head of supplies had been thrilled when I’d ordered the basements cleaned and kept clean, including the cells, and especially when they had occupants. The prisoners were kept clean too, whether they liked it or not.

My head guard, a Blue woman named Lena, unlocked the cell door then stood at attention, her black uniform pristine and every blue-gray hair on her head perfect. She was old enough to be my mother, as she constantly reminded me, and should be respected as such.

As the other of my mentors in the dark temple, Lena had earned far more respect than the mother who had birthed me.

She cleared her throat. You’re not going to kill him, are you?

I stopped and looked at her.

She twitched her shoulders and innocently blinked her dark blue eyes. I had to ask. I’m the one who has to work with the Rest Third Guard.

I closed my eyes for strength and waited long enough to make sure my skin was no longer flushed from battling the dark goddess, but instead the proper shade of brick red so its black tattoos would stand out cast fear into the prisoner’s heart. Then I took a deep breath and nodded toward the cell.

Lena opened the cell door and murmured, High Priestess of the Temple of the Damned, Vessel and Voice of Maldita.

The cell itself looked more like a plain, empty room than a cell, though the whitewashed walls and heavy blackwood door were reinforced and shielded. The man inside choked and scrabbled back against the far wall. High Priestess, he said, ducking his head.

I supposed I could see what Eya saw in him. Tall, well-muscled in his Rest Third guard-gray uniform, with medium purple skin and dark purple hair cropped short. Probably purple eyes when he wasn’t staring at the floor so hard. Pretty enough, but young.

Too young, or he wouldn’t have been so stupid.

How much do you love Eya? I asked softly. Enough to swear to the dark goddess for her?

I— He stared past me, eyes bulging. I don’t love her!

Brightness, I cursed silently. He probably had loved her. At least, while he was bedding her. Purples didn’t usually carry on with Oranges in the Rest Third, even if they had more freedom in the Damned Third. But Eya shouldn’t have trusted him, the young little fool, if he wouldn’t even swear to worship her goddess to be with her.

You bedded a priestess of Maldita. You encouraged her to leave the Damned Third. You made promises—

I didn’t!

I hoped he had, or Eya was even stupider than I’d thought, to follow after him without promises.

Give him to me! Maldita again demanded in my head. You wouldn’t gift me the other one. I’ll take this. He’s young—

No.

The dark goddess swelled inside me, but I pushed Her back again. She would punish me later, but for now, no.

The Rest Third guard gaped like a landed fish, but no words escaped his mouth.

I can’t have every Rest Third guard in here convincing Maldita’s priestessi to forswear themselves, can I? I asked, my mild tone belied by the prickling in my eyes. Those in the Damned Third knew exactly what to expect from us, as they would not if we did not keep our word.

They were easier to tax and tithe and govern this way.

I leaned forward, pressed the tip of my finger to his forehead, and pushed and pulled. He kept his mouth shut at first, but his neck tightened and his jaw clenched. Then he groaned. I pulled a little harder, until he panted, then I pushed.

He arched back, screaming.

I didn’t really need to touch him to work my magic on him; it just made it easier. After the count of five, I stopped pushing and pulling. He’d have a few nightmares, but no lasting physical damage.

He’d never believe me, but I’d gone easy on him. The former high priestess would have killed him too, or at least maimed him.

Then, like I had with his lover, I allowed a hint of Maldita in, and settled an oath on him. You will not return to the Damned Third, I told him. "You will not step foot inside the damned temple grounds."

He fell to one knee, feeling Her touch on his soul.

It burned. I knew from experience.

He trembled, then began to weep.

I glanced at Lena.

She nodded. She’d see that the Rest Third Guard knew what could have happened. He wouldn’t be able to return but they would probably send him to work nearer the Blessed Third. The farther from Eya the better.

Lena helped him to his feet and steadied him while he regained his breath.

You… He looked up at me. She was right. You don’t understand love.

I arched one eyebrow. Eya talked to you about me? When they could have been— should have been— busier with other matters? Interesting.

Let’s go, Lena snapped, before you say something else stupid and the high priestess has to kill you for it.

He staggered out of the cell. Righted himself and jerked away from Lena. You’re a Blue. High caste. How could you work for her? he muttered, wiping his cheeks. How could you bear the touch of that filth—

Shut up, boy. I could hear the smile in her voice. She had a dark sense of humor. That was one of the things I liked best about her. You don’t understand.

I could save you, he whispered to her, if you meet me in the Rest Third. I’m never coming back here, but it’s not too late for you…

She snorted. You can’t even save yourself.

Why do you serve that? She doesn’t love you. How could she? She doesn’t even know how to love.

You just don’t learn, do you? Lena’s voice trailed away as they walked up the stairs.

Goddessi save me from young lust.

Heavens, I cursed tiredly to myself as I headed for the staircase. They were both right. I would never love. I would never be loved.

I had power instead. I had worked too hard to obtain my position and the dark goddess would never let me go, since Maldita was jealous of Her high priestess’s attention, and since Her high priestess— by definition— was a monster no one could love.

No one would ever love me and I couldn’t love them even if they did. It was too blessed dangerous.

Love was weakness.

Jay

The closing of the front door echoed quietly through the house. Jay looked up from polishing the left of his paired straight swords, and frowned. Faint sounds from the streets outside and tendrils of morning sun squeezed through the cracks in the shutters of his only window. The residents of the Rest Third had been up for hours, but Jay was enjoying a rare free day, or had been.

Someone had come home; instead of the usual greetings, silence pooled in the main room and low mutters scratched in the bedroom beyond. Jay set the cloth aside and stood. His tiny, tacked-on bedroom meant at least one weapon was always within reach, even if he hadn’t been cleaning his favorite swords.

He cat-footed to the door and peeked out. Robin was snarling and crashing around in her room on the other side of the house. Mom stood just inside the main door, with her back to him. Her hands were empty. No bags on the floor from shopping. No produce on the table where they would sit for dinner. The door was closed and latched from the inside.

Not enemies in the house, then, or Robin would have tucked their mother into a far corner and begun the battle.

Since his mother hated the reminder that they could all protect her better than she could protect herself, Jay turned, set his swords on the bed, then went to her. Her shoulders hunched, the streaks of faded yellow in her dark yellow hair reminding him of her advancing age, and her hands were still. His mother never stopped moving, always cooking or cleaning or helping someone sharpen a weapon, but now she was still.

Mom? Jay asked softly. Are you all right? What happened? Weren’t you and Maggie and Robin going shopping?

The woman sank into her favorite chair as if she’d aged a thousand years. Her face was pale under her deep yellow skin and her hands trembled.

Dread thumped in his gut. Where’s Maggie?

His mom continued to stare as if she could see through the walls to the mountains beyond. They took her, she whispered. "They took her and wouldn’t listen. I promised to pay back—"

His jaw clenched. What did she do this time?

She’s so young. She doesn’t know any better. My Magpie, my baby…

Mom. Lowering his voice so the others wouldn’t hear, he told her what they all knew anyway. She knows better. She’s just spoiled. What did she do?

Sobbing now, she curled into a ball in the wooden rocker. She stole. From a priestess. And then she lied about it.

"To a priestess?" Pain stabbed behind his left eye. Sometimes he called it his Magpie-headache. The girl was always getting into trouble, and because he loved his family, he was always getting her out of it. But if they’d taken her away to a temple this time, he might not be able to get her out. He’d heard rumors… If she was at the temple of the bright goddess, maybe, but the dark? Please say bright, please say bright… Which temple, Mom?

They took her, Jay. His mom sobbed louder. They took my baby.

Which temple, Mom? Please say bright.

Robin shouted from the other room. Dark!

"Rest it, Jay swore and whirled. Were you there?" He stopped in the doorway.

Robin had dressed in her battle gear: brown cottons and leathers accenting her yellow skin and yellow hair, inherited from their mother. She slung her belt and short sword around her waist and was eyeing her knife collection. What to bring, what to bring…

Where do you think you’re going? Jay snapped.

To get our Maggie back, of course. Robin slid knives into her boot sheathes. Duh.

You’re not, Jay growled. You’ll just end up—

Just because you’re the oldest—

Stop it, both of you! Dee interrupted, stepping between them. The middle sister, a Brown like Jay, like their father had been, she had the most practice being the peacemaker, but she too was dressed for a fight, in her gray Rest Third guard uniform. "We’re all going."

Jay winced. There it was. The pain behind his right eye. The one that told him Dee and Robin weren’t going to back down.

Sisters.

They were so much trouble…

But he saw the tears brimming in their eyes when they lifted their chins and stood shoulder to shoulder, hands on their swords, daring him to argue with them, like younger copies of their mother daring to argue with a higher-caste Blue or Purple neighbor. They needed to rescue Maggie as much as he did.

Rest it, he loved them.

You can’t go in uniform, he told Dee. Not into the Damned Third of the city. You’ll lose your job.

Dee gaped at him. I-I know, she said. But you were being—

Shh! Robin elbowed her. That means we’re going. Go change!

On it. Don’t let him leave without me. Dee disappeared behind the hanging blanket that separated her part of the room from Robin’s.

Done.

I’m not going to leave you. The walls were thin enough for Jay to step into Robin’s part of the room, close the door, and still hear his mom crying in the kitchen. He lowered his voice. If she’s been taken into the Damned Third, I’ll need both of you.

We should talk to the demon hunters.

The what? Jay blinked.

Demon hunters. Robin scowled. Elementals. They live west, past the desert and have weird beliefs about the goddessi. They’d be willing to help us storm the temple.

We’re not going to storm the temple.

She continued if she hadn’t heard him. I should take more weapons.

Jay snorted. We can’t defeat the priestessi with swords. They’ve got guards and magic and—

"I know. Robin swiped at the tear falling down her cheek. But blades make me feel like we’ve got a chance."

Don’t cry! Dee snapped from the other side of the blanket. We’ll get her back.

Jay straightened. We will, he said. We’ll find a way.

Dee flung the blanket aside and stepped forward, putting all three of them nose to nose in the small room. Mom can’t come, she whispered. She’s not trained, and she’s a Yellow.

She’s safer here, Robin agreed, glaring at them as if they were going to ask her to stay behind too. There was a reason she worked as a caravan guard instead of a city guard, as little as Jay liked to admit it. The Damned Third guards might treat her poorly for being a Yellow, but she was trained, and he and Dee would need her.

We have to be careful. If the priestessi realize Mom’s a Yellow and Dad’s… gone— Even a year later, sometimes the grief of losing their father still hit him. He swallowed. She could lose the house.

Would that be such a great loss? Dee glared around their tiny, divided room.

This is better than nothing, Robin snapped. We’re doing the best we can.

Dee wiggled her hips to settle her sword. If they paid caravan guards more—

Or city guards! Robin eyed her bow and arrows, and began weaving an ornamented spike into her braid.

Or guard trainers, Jay agreed. But we have a house and enough to eat now. Focus on the problem. Maggie.

"Maggie’s always the problem. Robin scowled. But that doesn’t mean they get to take her and do… whatever they do to the poor bastards they take."

The few we get back are broken, Dee whispered. They can’t do that to our Maggie. No matter what she did.

Right. Robin, leave the bow, Jay said. They’ll know you’re a caravan guard by it, and it won’t be any use in the close quarters of a temple.

Fine. She snatched up another sword and settled it onto her back. I’m sweating already. Can we go?

Yeah. Jay walked through the kitchen to his room and gathered his own swords, even though he didn’t think he would get a chance to use them. He met his sisters at the front door and glanced back at their mother.

She’ll be all right, Dee said. We’ll be back before she notices.

Maggie, Robin reminded him, grabbing his arm and dragging him into the streets where the spring sun warmed his shoulders and neck.

The run-walk-run through the city was a blur that took the rest of the morning. As the sun reached its peak in the sky and beat down on them, Jay bought clean water for himself and the girls, then paid for a ride on one of the cheapest flying pallets to the Damned Third gates, wincing at his dwindling money supply. Crossing into the Damned Third was easy— physically. The damned guards at the gates waved them through with empty smiles, maybe because his Yellow sister had two Browns with her, or maybe because they really didn’t care.

The feeling of stepping onto damned ground… Jay gritted his teeth against the crawling sensation on his skin and wondered if he would ever get used to it. He hoped not.

Stay close, he told his sisters.

So much magic, Robin whispered, bumping her shoulder into his, her eyes roving everywhere but where she was walking.

Dee kept her thoughts to herself, but her eyes were just as wide.

Magic was everywhere, Jay had to admit, in the Damned Third.

The street was lined with shops, each with more fantastical things than the last. On their left, a Green magus pushed hot glass, creating a sculpture more delicate and clear than could be achieved in the Rest Third without magic. On their right, a Blue crone offered gems pulled from the mines of the damned. Overhead, flying carpets swooped and swirled, while the Rest Third only had the cheaper flying pallets, since the priestessi and magi were the ones who cast the spells and charged more for spells to work outside their Third.

We could live here, Robin breathed, her eyes on a black dress on display inside one of the shops.

That’s not wool, Dee said, a wistful smile on her own face, which means it was imported, which means it probably cost more than we could make in a year.

Wishful thinking, Jay snarled to himself as they walked into the sunset past all the magic of the damned. All three of them worked jobs that paid well, in the Rest Third, as had their father. Yet they could barely afford the repairs to their tiny house, and would never be able to afford a dress like that.

Maggie, he reminded himself.

But when they came to the walls of the Temple of the Damned, with the heavy granite blocks, tall blackwood gates, and two damned guards on each side, he stopped.

These guards weren’t blank-eyed and bored. These guards weren’t smiling and waving people through. These guards could have been the best of the Rest Third guards. Two Greens, a Red, and a Blue, they moved like they had worked together and trained together for a long time. They acted as if their lives depended on their vigilance, and if the rumors he’d heard were true, they did.

He steered his sisters to the side of the road and dropped his voice to a whisper. Ideas?

Over the walls, Dee offered. We’re outnumbered.

Four of them, three of us, Robin said, flexing her hands. We can take them.

Jay watched how the guards moved while they dealt with a group of foreign-born Oranges and Yellows. The foreigners— could they be the mysterious Elementals Dee had talked about?— refused to give up their weapons. After some shouting, they turned away.

Maybe they could take the four guards… but how many were inside?

A pair of Green merchants were next in line to enter. The older man gave up his sword immediately, but the younger was reluctant. The Blue guard reached out her hand, and the younger man’s belt, sheath, and blade yanked itself off his waist and into the guard’s hand. Only then were the Greens allowed through.

They’ve got magic. With his sleeve, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. The guards.

When he looked down again, Robin had disappeared.

Where—

Dee pointed. She’s checking the walls. Then she sauntered forward.

Grinding his teeth and wishing he could swat them both, Jay half-turned, so he could see the guards and his sisters without being too obvious.

Robin walked along the road next to the wall as if she were admiring the black flowers planted there. Dee marched up to the guards, identified herself as one of the city guards— neither Damned nor Blessed, but patrolling the Rest Third— and asked them about their training. Robin stepped off the road into one of the bushes and walked toward the wall.

She slowed and strained and pushed, then backed away, her face bright yellow.

Jay sauntered into the nearest shop and waited for his sisters to join him.

Magic, Robin said, sounding as if she had run a race. Can’t get close to the walls.

More training and at least one per shift is a magus or priestess, Dee muttered. Can’t rush the gates.

Jay… you looking for something special? Robin held up a wisp of lace, and waggled it under her brother’s nose. Her eyes were sad, but her voice was cheerful and her breathing slowing. Have you finally found the woman you’ve been looking for?

No. He flushed, though he was familiar enough with women’s undergarments, having lived with three sisters and his mom, and since reaching adulthood having no few lady friends. "When I find a partner— not someone I have to resting protect all the resting time— you’ll know." Then he pointed with his chin and they walked back out into the sun.

Jay looked down at his sisters and imagined spoiled, pampered Maggie being mistreated by the dark goddess’s people, and remembered Mom crying in the rocking chair.

House repairs were caught up. They could do without his wages… for a while. He swallowed. Was he really going to do this?

For Maggie? For his sisters?

He removed his swords and belt, and handed them to Dee.

Robin demanded, What are you doing?

Keep my swords for me, he said. "I’m going to ask the high priestess for our sister back."

Dee clutched his swords to her chest. You can’t resting do that!

I have to, Jay said. There’s no other way in.

"But to just ask—?" Robin stared at him.

I’ll do what I have to do to get Maggie back. Whatever I have to do. It’s my job to protect you. As the oldest.

Then he squared his shoulders and walked up to the gates of the Temple of the Damned.

Chapter

Two

High Priestess of Maldita

Chill bumps rose on my skin. In an effort to combat the sudden spring heat outside, the damned priestessi had pulled too much cold into the temple again. The damned might pretend that hell was cold, just as the blessed pretended that heaven was comfortably chilly, but they weren’t the one stuck on the damned marble throne pretending not to shiver in nothing but a skin-tight tank top and shorts, some bulky jewelry, and tattoos. At least I had a soft black pillow to rest my butt on.

Lucky me.

I was so tired of black and blood.

Sneaking a linen wrap around my shoulders— black, of course— I eyed the line of petitioners and scowled. Midnight had long gone and the night was creeping toward dawn. My stomach growled, reminding me it was time for supper.

The Brown man in front of me— down five steps as was proper for a petitioner— waved his arms wide.

What? Had he really—? No one could be that foolish. Say that again.

The man gulped. My sister, he said, squinting in the lantern light. We want her back. Please.

And he thought if he just asked, I would grant it? No. Next petitioner.

"Please! High Priestess, I’ll— One the of the guards took him by the arm, but he stubbornly held his ground, and shook off my guard’s hand. Please. I’ll take her place."

What? Stunned by the same man twice in one night? Was the end of the world near? You what?

The guard gripped his shoulder, and the man sucked in a deep breath. I would take my sister’s place in your service.

Blessed— He had offered to take her place.

The other priestessi had noticed. They came out of their stupors and gazed at the man, some of them dismissing him immediately, some admiring the muscles of his shoulders and arms, some lingering lower.

But my elder sisters… Aimi and Nori, my sisters in truth and blood…

My sisters weren’t looking at the man like they wanted to bed him. They looked at him like they wanted to use him against me, even if they didn’t know how yet. Aimi, standing one step below me, my fiercest competition for the high priestess position, was eyeing him like a hunting cat.

Tell me again from the beginning, I commanded, hoping the man’s petition would dull everyone back into the normal stupor.

My little sister, he said again, has been spoiled by our mother…

As delicately as I could, I pushed boredom at my blood-sisters. Their eyes glazed over, giving me the opportunity to study the fool before me.

Looking up at me from five steps down. Even in the lantern light he seemed worn and shabby and gray against the white marble.

Yes, white. The floor was the only thing in the room that was white.

Black-veined white because marble from the temple’s mine existed only in white with thin black veins no matter how much one pushed at it. The Temple of the Blessed had been trying to steal it from us for the last hundred years, but so far they’d been unsuccessful. Massive slabs of marble to keep the room colder and make the petitioner feel every bit as small as he was. That hadn’t stopped this man from standing straight and looking the high priestess of Maldita in the eye, despite the lanterns set behind me for the halo effect to prevent exactly that.

He stood an average height for a man, with regular features, chin-length brown curls and honey-colored eyes still boldly gazing at me. He had some Yellow or Orange in him to have brown eyes that light, but the man was altogether forgettable, except for that one desire… to serve in his sister’s stead.

You understand, I interrupted. This is not the Temple of the Blessed, but of the Damned. Maldita is not a kind goddess. Not that Bendita or Her temple were any better, but that was a discussion for another time.

He smiled, a faint curl of his lips. I understand.

Yet you still offer your services in exchange for hers. Was he simple? Naive? Brain-injured? He didn’t seem so, but to give his life to save his sister? My blood-sisters had been trying to kill me for years. Do you have other sisters? Could you not forget this one?

No. His lips thinned. "I mean, yes, I have other sisters, and no, I will not… forget… this one. She is young, and I would save her from your service."

You would save her. I looked past him to the line of supplicants behind him. The rest wore greed, envy, or lust on their faces, making this man different. As always, the children of the temple weren’t allowed in this ceremony. The newest temple recruits, standing to my left— surrounded by guards to help them take their oaths— were crying or numb. The already sworn to my right looked just as bored as the priestessi.

None had volunteered.

To make space for the dark goddess, I had boxed off parts of me and put them away in my own mind; now one of those parts stirred.

Curiosity.

I could have the first volunteer for the dark goddess. Rumors would spread that I was finally acting like a proper high priestess with sexual interest in a man, my sisters would writhe in anger, and I would have someone new to speak to me of life outside temple walls.

Very well.

Very well? The man looked stunned and then delighted, then a cold mask fell over his face and he bowed. My sister is—

No! A girl pushed her way through the men and women on the right. Hers was one of the tear-stained faces. Her hair matched her brother’s brown curls, though it flowed down her back, and she looked to be in her teens, while the brother had lived perhaps thirty years. No! Jay, don’t do this for me. It’s horrible. You’ll—

Too late. He was