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Chapter 19
Now
Alira whispered prayers beside me. “Are you ready to become privy to another secret, ladies?” Higgins breathed, a smile on his lips. I braced myself and felt the movement make its way down the line of Initiates. “Now where do we get the lowly commoners?” My chest heaved because I knew. In my heart of hearts, I knew.
“The bottom of the barrel. Thesludgeleft behind,” Ludovicus snarled, staring right at me. “Inkwell.”
“I do believe, dear brother, that we have an Initiate this year that hails from Inkwell, do we not?” Garit asked mockingly.
“Yes,” Ludovicus purred, his eyes not leaving mine. “Sweet Petra here is a native of Inkwell.”
“What a shame that the Saints never chose you as our sacrifice,” Garit said, narrowing his eyes. I shuddered. “The Saints make their presence known in our actions. Each year, the newest Initiated members have the privilege of selecting a sacrifice. They are allowed to do whatever is necessary to lure them to the castle for the ceremony.” I swallowed back vomit, my throat burning. The white hot rage that had become a part of me flared.
“Sometimes it doesn’t take much. Some years the Initiates are clever, promising high paying work. Those who are a bit slower…” Raolin trailed off.
“They find their way to the brothels, enticing them in a different way,” Arturius added. He let out a low, menacing laugh.
“In the name of the Saints, of course,” Anton added. “And in the name of the Saints, my brothers, we must only allow the strongest to advance to this honorable stage. Now that you’ve learned the secrets, the fun can begin.” The members hummed in agreement. “You will be presented with three challenges in which the Saints will identify you as worthy or unworthy.”
“Balthazar, would you like to do the honors?” Ludovicus asked, walking behind the row of chairs to retrieve a small leather chest bound with golden buckles.
“Oh, how could I let such an opportunity pass?” Balthazar answered, rising and approaching the chest which had been lowered to the floor at the end of the dais. My heart pounded as he pulled the lid back.
A noise I had never heard before rose from the open chest, and the five remaining girls tensed beside me. I heard Alira’s breathing quicken, becoming shallower. The noise sounded like the rattling of beach pebbles in a jar. Ludovicus handed Balthazar a pair of thick elbow-length gloves, his gaze traveling the room as he pulled them on.
“This,” he said, reaching into the box, “is a Nesanian serpent.” He grabbed the snake behind its head, four feet of muscled body ringed with red and black. We didn’t have snakes in Eserene and I had never seen one before, but I heard stories of slithering nightmares that inhabited the deserts on the other side of the world. The end of its tail shook, producing the rattle that had been coming from the box.
All the other Initiates gasped. “The sage here in Eserene keeps a variety of reptiles for study and has been so kind as to lend us a serpent each year since we began conducting Initiations,” Garit explained.
“For the next phase of your Initiation, the serpent will be placed around your neck in honor of the Blood Saints. Should Rhedros and the Blood Saints he presides over deem you worthy, you will remain unscathed, but if Rhedros finds you unworthy of the Royal Court…” Ludovicus jeered, a smile rising on his lips. “Let’s just say the venom is swift...but it takes longer than Onyxian beasts.”
“Augusta, my dear,” Balthazar called. Her face has gone gray, eyes wide. He approached her, the serpent writhing in his grip, still secured. “Are you worthy?” he whispered, lacing the snake around her neck until it curled across her decolletage. Her eyes were on the ceiling, her lips moving in a silent prayer. “You ask the Saints for help now?” Balthazar cooed. “Darling, your fate has already been decided. Now we must wait and see.” The snake writhed around her neck, its scales glittering in the light of the sconces and chandelier. Slowly, it slithered to her shoulder and down her arm where Balthazar retrieved it once again. “Worthy,” Balthazar declared. Augusta’s shoulders dropped.
Balthazar stepped down the line to Iridia. She stood tall, her shoulders back, visibly fighting the urge to give in to cowardice. “Are you worthy?” He placed the snake around her neck, across her shoulders. Her eyes stayed on Balthazar. Her pulse thrummed in her neck as the serpent wrapped around the base of her throat, tensing for a moment.
Iridia shook violently. Tears had pooled in her eyes. “Now, now, sweet girl,” Balthazar breathed. “It is a great honor to be in the presence of the Saints,” he said. “And anyway, should the Blood Saints wish to take you now, they will make it known.”
It happened so quickly that had I not heard Iridia’s scream, I would have missed it altogether. The snake sank its fangs into her neck, the noise from his tail seemingly sent from Cyen himself. Her scream contracted in her throat as Balthazar pulled the serpent from her neck. Her hands clawed at the fang marks, panic in her eyes. He clicked his tongue. “Unworthy. A pity.”
The veins around the bites started to darken, all the blood vessels in her neck suddenly as visible as roads inked on a map. “Truly a shame,” Raolin tutted and the Board hummed in agreement. “Such a beauty. I thought she would have served the court well. It seemed Rhedros and the Blood Saints had better plans for her.”
“Arturius, do you mind taking care of our dear Iridia? It seems she is not in possession of the strength the Royal Court requires,” Balthazar called, eyes never leaving the writhing girl in front of him.
“It would be my pleasure.” He descended from the dais and grabbed her by the wrists. The black veins had spread into her face and down her chest, small beads of blood trickling from the tiny puncture wounds. She fought against him as her screams became garbled. Having none of it, he threw her twitching body over a shoulder, crossed the room and dumped her on the ground next to Willow, who was still unconscious.
He chained her to the column, but the screams continued to erupt, her agony palpable. My stomach began to churn harder. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, balled it in his fist, and stuffed it to the back of Iridia’s throat. I watched as she tried to stay conscious, pulled against the chain, but it was no use. Her eyes began to fall back in her head, her breathing becoming ragged. She eventually collapsed against the column, chest rising and falling quickly and slightly, the blackness in her veins crawling over her body.
Willow and Iridia. Two lives set to end. Just like that.
“Cora, dear,” Balthazar crooned, stepping in front of the third girl. Her eyes were wild, her breathing almost as erratic as Iridia’s as she lay dying in the corner. “Are you worthy?” The hiss of his voice could have come from the serpent. It slithered around her neck, but her chin stayed high. I saw her lips moving, praying to the Saints, no doubt.
It writhed to her shoulder, back to Balthazar’s grip, and I felt the remaining Initiates sigh in relief along with her. “It seems the Blood Saints have deemed you worthy,” he said with a wicked grin and a slow nod.
Estelle held her chin high as the snake was draped across her neck. I could see its tongue flicking from its mouth as it glided over her shoulders. “Worthy,” Balthazar confirmed.
Alira straightened beside me. “Beautiful Alira, almost identical to your sister.” His voice was smooth and rich, filled with years of torturing others and delighting in bloodshed. Alira cringed at the mention of Willow who was still breathing in the corner. “Are you worthy?”
Once again, the snake was placed around her neck, slithering sickeningly past arteries and veins that were beating like war drums. She kept her breathing even as it caressed her neck.
