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“Right you are,” she sneers mockingly. “You were spotted by one of our girls as you slipped out of the gate. Did you really think you could leave unnoticed?”
I speak, but she throws up a hand.
“Save your breath for when you need it, Shana. How long have you been living here for? You should know our rules and code of conduct by now.”
I nod my head quickly, hoping for her to see I’m willing to accept my mistake.
“And no, you’re not going to get off with a warning if that’s what you’re thinking,” she says, her words deflating my spirit in an instant. “You’re not a new member of our order, Shana. You’re a high-ranking priestess of the noblest religious organization in all of Aerasak.”
“How can I repent?” I blurt out, almost immediately regretting speaking without permission.
Her icy eyes narrow once more as a smirk falls upon her face.
“The degree of your punishment will depend upon what you got up to outside the temple grounds. This is your opportunity to speak, so let your words be heard.”
Swallowing hard, I clear my throat. Nothing intelligible comes out, and my excuse is a blubbering mess of gibberish and mumbling.
I try telling her that I was out to seek medicine, but I cannot bring myself to lie, not even when my fate depends on it. She seems to know this as her smirk grows into a malicious smile.
“Out with it!” she snaps. “Everything you did in the city is a representation of our order. You must tell us if I am to judge you accordingly!”
I feel everyone’s eyes on me, from the handmaidens to the statues. I glance towards Calindra, praying for her to help me somehow. She does not move an inch. I know then that I must tell the truth, that there’s no more use in delaying the inevitable.
“I was seeking a man with whom I have personal business with.”
“A man?” Layirah booms. “Who do you speak of? And what is the nature of your business?”
“If I may,” one of the handmaidens interjects. “I believe it was the same man who rescued us from the demons. He and Shana appeared to know each other very well.”
“Well, who is he?” Layirah shouts.
“My savior,” I cry, stepping forward as I become filled with a sudden wave of bravery. “I laid with him and now I carry his child within my belly!”
Every single woman in the room cries in a symphony of shock and awe, the most horrified of them belonging to Layirah. Her face twists into pure anger.
“How dare you?” she yells. “Whore!”
“I accept whatever comes my way! I only ask that you have mercy on my child. They do not deserve to be punished for my sins.”
“You’re in no position to make demands!” Karona exclaims, her sudden voice booming from a pillar so loud that everyone falls to their knees. “That child is your sin, and it will be dealt with alongside you!”
“Look at what you’ve done!” Layirah cries, gritting her teeth.
Objects start gravitating, all of them floating toward me. They stop and begin waving around me, creating a miniaturestorm as rainfall comes down. Outside the windows, I can see the same weather being rained down from above.
The temple shakes as if being struck by tremors, all the handiwork of Karona. Her physical form manifests in front of me. With piercing violet eyes, soft gray skin, and full lips, she is beautiful and imposing. She’s tall, even for a dark elf, with sensual, feminine curves. Her long platinum hair falls in loose waves around her face and down her back, and it highlights her high cheekbones and thick lashes as she steps forward.
Her eyes glow angrily like a scolding Mother and peer down at me, the harshest of auras surrounding us as she closes the distance between us. She raises a glowing hand as I cower beneath her, with nowhere to run, forced to accept my smiting right where I kneel.
I close my eyes and wait, only hearing the clang of metal above me. I open my eyes, shocked to see Carus deflecting Karona’s blow with his sword. He pushes her back with great effort. I stare up at him, wondering if I’ve already died.
“You will not slay her, you wretched being! I will not let you take the woman with whom I share a mating bond, nor will you harm my child!”
He lays a hand on my shoulder while I cling to his legs. For a moment, hope re-emerges from its hiding place. Carus, my beacon of light in this storm, is face-to-face with a literal god.
25
CARUS
