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 ComfortsChapter 60: The Sweetest Fruit
In the time since Takri arrived in the city, he had yet to see any of the strigoi-viu’s many wives. Yelena told him of life in the women's quarters. How the princesses remained in isolation under constant guard. Mahleck kept his precious collection of dolls locked away, safe from the lust of men. Surely, he would not allow Lilua to be in attendance tonight. But what if he did?
Takri realized under his balled-up fists his palms were sweating. He forced himself to relax his hands and keep his eyes on the moon above the desert, unsure of why the idea of seeing his cousin caused such anxiety. He could face the strigoi-viu. He could face the horror of the bone forest, and the lullaby of the Zora. But he could not face his little cousin Lilua, taken as bride to the monster. If Lilua slept by Mahleck’s side as Baraz said, she bore scars that were deeper than those on her brother’s face.
I am older. I was supposed to protect them. All of them.
Takri heard the servants suddenly go quiet as the latch on the dining chamber door slid open. A cold wind from the desert filled the vacuum between the open windows and door, cutting through his woolen tunic and chilling him deeply. Mahleck. Takri took a quick breath before turning to greet his host.
"My God and King," said Baraz, bowing deeply before the strigoi-viu, who swept past him as if he did not exist.
Takri awkwardly followed the high priest's example, "My God and King."
"I understand you have been enjoying my gift, Takri?" said Mahleck as he inspected the table, selecting a smooth orange fruit from the display before him.
Takri swallowed. "Yes. The girl is quite lovely."
"I remembered that you seemed to enjoy her company before the hunt. And she is capable of doing more for you than pouring wine for the princes of the realm. Now that you are a member of the royal household, anything or anyone you desire is yours," said Mahleck. He wandered towards the window where Takri stood. "I see the moon has turned even the sands of your homeland beautiful. At least from a distance. It amazes me that such a harsh place can produce such beauty as your people have provided me. Perhaps I should have let more of you live."
Mahleck was close enough now that Takri could smell him. Leather. Rosewater. Wine. The sweet smell of the fruit he held in his hand. Mahleck peeled the fruit's skin away with his dagger revealing the plump orange flesh of the fruit below. Takri resisted the urge to retreat.
"I have learned things grown in the harshest environments produce the sweetest fruit. Wouldn’t you agree, Takri?" asked Mahleck.
"I would not know, sir. In the desert, I would pick fruit with the other children. But it was nothing compared to what your table holds," said Takri.
“Have you ever tried one of these? They grow on the rocky slopes on the western side of the mountain. They taste like honey and feel like silk in the mouth.” He cut a piece with his knife and offered it to Takri, the knife dripping juice onto the floor below.
“What is it called?” asked Takri, taking the fruit from Mahleck’s blade.
“Persimmon. They are a fruit worthy of a god. Luscious and decadent.” Mahleck licked the blade clean. "Taste it. We have many more where that came from. Here, in the palace of the Locust, we want for nothing. You have but to desire it and it is yours."
Takri placed the fruit in his mouth. Sweetness spread across his palate like honey on a ripe plum. His eyes widened. Mahleck smiled at his reaction.
"Here," said Mahleck. "Please, finish it. All that is mine is yours. And we have sweeter things to enjoy this night than fruit. Baraz, when will our other guests arrive?"
"Soon. The eunuchs were sent to fetch them," said Baraz.
"Takri, tell me of the music of the Narim," said Mahleck. "The songs your cousin plays for me have beauty unlike any other songs I have heard anywhere across the continent. The music she makes reminds me of a time before I gave myself to war and strife," said Mahleck.
"Among my people, music is worship," said Takri. "Music is the language spoken by gods before humanity walked upon the earth. We Narim believed the earth and the sky sang songs of love to each other to bring life from the bare rock. And that the sun and moon sing to each other among the stars. Our people believed Lilua's music was a gift from the goddess Aaysha."
"Such primitive nonsense," snorted Baraz. "It borders on heresy. There is only one God, and that is Mahleck."
Mahleck raised his hand to silence his priest. "Her music is inspired by the true God now, Baraz. She serves and worships me. Perhaps if I decide you should be blessed tonight, I shall have her play for you. If I do not tired of your company first."
Baraz nodded. "Of course, Your Highness. I do not mean to offend. I am merely zealous in my defense of the true faith."
"Forgive him, Takri. Baraz does not have an appreciation for these things," said Mahleck. "I plucked him from bare existence long ago, and he has spent most of his time since scribbling on wax tablets while trudging through the Swarm’s muddy camps. Music is a thing which escapes him. Now, tell me how my favorite wife learned this music of your gods?"
"Lilua learned to sing from her mother as a small child," said Takri. "Her voice captivated anyone who heard her. Then her father taught her to play his lute. Once, when we came to the capital for a festival, she was invited to sing and play for the Queen. You are very fortunate to have her here, my God and King."
Mahleck's eyes bore into Takri. "I have never had the pleasure of hearing your cousin's voice, much less heard her sing. Maybe you can coax her to do so this evening, Lord Prince. I cannot imagine her worship is complete without the sound of her voice."
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