A Priestess for the Blind God (Legends of Rahasia Book 1)

Chapter Ninety-Four

"In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art."

-Rumi (13th Century Persian Poet and Religious Scholar)

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The Wedding

And so it was, that Ryu of Hakim, eighth legal son of former Advisor Hakim, also known as The Poem of the Emperor's Soul, and Ryu of the True Heart, stands in front of his greatest love.

Elio has a tattoo of Ryu's brand placed directly over his neck, gold ink to hide the scar I'd given him when Cato had forced me to stab him. The brands are like ceremonial rings in a way, a sign of Elio in solidarity with Ryu's past, a promise that the Emperor will do everything in his power to buy a better future for his omr. His life.

Elio and Ryu wear blue, a claim of honoring their esteemed guest, Queen Cassia of the North, with whom they were on terms of peaceful neutrality if not kinship. Amazing, what money could buy for an Empire.

Really, I think that the lovely couple, the beaming Elio and shyly grinning Ryu, wear blue because they are both sick of gods. Blue is the color of the sky and the water, the true blessings of the earth. I, of course, wear my father's armor, simple black šalvār, and a dark indigo qamis, a long shirt that was the only thing I could get away with when it came to still wearing blue.

Since being named the true Divine Champion of Rahasia, I've been paraded about like a prize stallion. Parades this, parties that. I sulk at all of them, missing the touch of Kane. Ever since Arno died...

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When I come to, I'm in the medical wing of Elio's palace. Elio and Ryu are recovering more quickly than I am.

In fact, I'm hardly recovering at all. It seems magical war wounds are three-times less likely to heal than man-made ones. I don't even bother using my Divine magic.

I'd rather all Divinity was damned after what happened to Arno.

The palace physician feeds me nauseous concoctions day and night. Kane wanders in.

I turn away.

"Please, joon-am, there was nothing I could do to save Arno."

Voice hoarse, eyes trickling with tears, I beat my fist against my chest until Kane pulls my hands away.

"Stop that, love, you're hurting yourself."

I cry again, remembering Arno's kiss on my brow. Remembering that sickening squelch as the dagger plunged through his flesh.

"I want nothing more to do with gods." I sob, so alone. What is this horrid sadness? What is the sorrow I cannot name? I want death, but I still cling pitifully to life, to the pain I can feel rather than wanting to join Kane in the Before. Anything but that eternal agony.

"I'll return one day, Ode," Kane kisses me sweetly, leaving me in my drugged oblivion as the physician tips more spiced wine in my mouth. "I promise."

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I haven't seen Kane since the day that Arno died.