Page 8 of The Goddess’s Thief

My skin prickled. Why were the children kept separate from the older women? When I whispered the question to Mirrim, she swallowed convulsively and whispered, “We used to live together, mothers and children. Some of the Omegas couldn’t bear knowing what lay ahead for their babies. This island has seen more than one kind of terrible sacrifice, and more than enough madness for us all.” She tightened her lips and went silent.

For a moment, I thought I might vomit. Those poor mothers… They’d drowned their own children, rather than let them grow up to perpetuate the cycle.

For a moment, the anger I’d held inside me for all my life felt like it might immolate me, and I took a deep breath, trying to remember what Alexios had taught me about…

My heart stuttered. Alexios.

The pain of remembering the Beta who’d been my best friend, my confidant, and the person I’d trusted more than anyone else in this world, was almost as overwhelming as my rage. He’d been lying to me for years. He’d been a spy for the Goddess, and I’d conked him on the head and thrown him into the ocean along with Goran, before the priests had caught up with me.

I was still pissed. I didn’t know if I would ever trust him again. But I had a feeling he and Goran would be here soon, and when I saw him again… I’d be glad. Damnit, I missed him. I missed them both. And I missed Kellin and Lachlan, my selkies.

But maybe not for much longer. I peered out at the waves, something catching my eye. A piece of driftwood, perhaps? It could be Kellin. My heart drummed at the thought, though I knew it was too soon for him to be here.

It wasn’t my own Omega, Lachlan. I could feel he was far away through our completed mate bond. I pressed a hand to my upper bicep, then my chest. Fucking mate marks were too distracting. At least the ever-present crawling sensation in my heart had diminished somewhat, the distance from Lusca making itself felt, now that I no longer had my nautilus pendant.

Stupid kraken. If he and the idiot ice god Skadi hadn’t decided they needed to measure monster dicks, or tentacles, or whatever, the two of them could’ve solved all my problems in an instant. It was too much to hope that they’d stop fighting and come save me and all the Omegas.

But maybe there was something I could do to get Lusca’s crabshelled ass to Pict. If I so much as dipped my pinky toe in the sea, he’d know. He’d told me that he was the Emperor of all the seas, and he’d feel me the moment I was in his domain.

I scanned the fenced-in area once more. At the far end of the pen was a small building, perhaps an outhouse, near the picked-clean garden. A path led to the back doorway of the children’s longhouse, and a shadow moved across one of their windows. A squeal no louder than a mouse squeak, cut off almost at once, drifted to my ears.

Mirrim squeezed my arm. “Adiah, ask Frol to bring fresh water to the gate.”

That got my attention. “Bring? You don’t have a spring, or a well?”

“The spring is outside. Water is valuable.”

“Water is expensive.” Adiah spat on the ground, but moved toward the Alpha who was still skulking inside the tree line. The meaning of her words sunk in as she adopted a seductive gait, her narrow hips swinging.

“She has to fuck one of them for water? The hells with it. I’m killing them all now,” I gritted out through clenched teeth.

Mirrim’s soft, “No,” was all that stopped me. “It’s Frol. Words and a smile are all she’ll pay for the water. Well, and a bit of her pride, but she has enough of that for us all.”

I let out a slow breath, grasping a thread of my frayed patience. Pride meant Adiah had hope. Which meant she had a weapon stronger than the obsidian I’d given her.

RADA

As soon as Adiah was out of sight, Mirrim pulled me toward the sandy beach, where a shallow indentation next to a small pile of blackened shells held some charred driftwood. She kneeled and used a stick to reveal some small, glowing embers. “Gather some kindling?”

I wasn’t sure a fire was a good idea, especially not on this island, but I brought a few pieces and a handful of dead seagrass to her as she arranged some wood into a small pyramid. I thought of my quick firelighting stone, one of the many valuable things I’d kept in my cloak before Skadi had stolen them. He’d taken them while I was unconscious, the icy arserag. And he’d had the gall to call me the thief.

I’d stabbed him in one eye the first time I met him. I reminded myself to stab him in his other one, if I managed to get off this cursed island.

I watched with avid curiosity as Mirrim sat back with a satisfied nod and placed her hand on her heart. She didn’t strike stones and blow on the embers: she prayed on them.

“Goddess of all, be here in this fire. Keep it holy, keep it pure. Let it be lit by the moon and bring warmth and safety to Your daughters who wait for their deliverance.”

I didn’t see where the spark came from, but suddenly it was there, a tendril of smoke curling up from the dried grass. I made a choked sound. Mirrim smiled, giving me a wink as she tucked a slender stone fire starter into her tunic

As the flame began to crackle, it burned with a pure, blue-white flame for a moment before it stalled into a cheerful yellow fire. A normal fire, without any of the baleful red of Edan.

I gasped. “How?”

Mirrim didn’t answer, but picked up one of the largest clamshells and wiped out the inside, handing it to me. “Put your roots in there.”

I’d just done that when Adiah rejoined us, carrying a clay jug filled with fresh water. She poured some into the shell, then set it down and went back to the children’s longhouse and knocked in a pattern I memorized. A moment later, the door opened, and a gangly youth stepped out. He wore a robe like the other older guards, but he couldn’t have been more than thirteen.

“Come,” he said, his voice cracking on the word as he held open the door.