Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
It didn’t help much—most of the stories had been about Fated Mates and how they stayed together against what seemed like insurmountable odds. Odds like the ones I was facing right now—which only made me want to cry.
“There—finally!” I heard my stepmother say as she finished zipping and fastening my Binding Gown. It was made of red Tribithian silk—the color of Binding—and it was tight over my breasts and then flowed in many layers down to my ankles. I had to admit, it was a truly beautiful dress.
I hated it with all my heart.
“Look at the time!” Lyrah remarked, turning me to face her. “The ceremony is about to start. Cheer up, you silly girl—you’re about to get Bound to one of the wealthiest men in the galaxy!”
There was no point in telling her again that I didn’t want to be Bound to Grr. Malofice. I knew she wouldn’t listen. She was just thinking of all the discounts on new fashions she was going to get out of the deal.
“Well, your hair and makeup look good, anyway,” she said, frowning at me. “Though I wish you’d try to look less miserable. A girl should be happy on her Binding Day!”
“I’m not happy and I never will be—this Binding will ruin my life,” I said dully.
“Well if you’re still pining for that Captain Turk, you can stop right now,” she snapped. “And don’t think he’s going to rescue you, either. I heard that he had a trial this morning before the strictest magistrate on all of Rigelis Nine! By now he’s probably buried six feet under the prison.”
I had already known about the trial, so her news didn’t come as a surprise. But it did make my eyes sting with tears. Poor Turk! It was all my fault he had been tried and convicted. Everyone thought he had kidnapped me and sexually abused me for the past two months. It didn’t matter what I said—nobody believed me!
From behind the red curtain, which shut us away from the main part of the Holy House, I heard a low chiming sound.
“Ah—there we go! The Ceremony is beginning! Come, child.”
And Lyrah took me by the wrist and dragged me past the curtain and out into the main part of the Holy House.
It was a large round area, built of pure white Zithian marble with veins of purple-blue sapphire. Marble pillars arranged around the circumference of the room were decorated with images of the four faces of the Goddess—The Maiden, The Mother, The Lover, and The Crone.
The space was crowded with people. I saw friends from my own Clan as well as dignitaries from the other three of the Four Families as well. Even Chieftainess Grettla of Clan Vicious and her daughter Pria, who was her heir, were in attendance.
Standing by Pria’s side, I saw Rath, one of Slade’s other best friends. He had a grave look on his face and he was keeping a careful eye on the crowd, scanning for any kind of danger that might threaten the women he guarded. His horns gleamed silver in the golden light from the overhead glows—a sign that he was trusted above all others by his Chieftain. Or in this case, Chieftainess, since Clan Vicious was always ruled over by a woman.
I wished desperately that I was from a Clan where women were counted as equals. If I was, maybe I could have extracted myself from this situation. Or more likely, I never would have been in it in the first place, because if my opinion really mattered, nobody would have been able to force me to Bind myself to someone I didn’t love against my will.
“Come on—there’s the Priestess. We must meet her,” Lyrah hissed in my ear. She steered me through the crowd to the center of the Holy House where the statue of the Goddess stood with all four of her faces on display, each pointing in a different direction—North, South, East, and West.
Indeed, a tall Priestess in flowing red robes was approaching us. The crimson cowl of her robe was up, so I could see nothing but her glowing red eyes.
“Greetings, my child,” she said to me. In her hands she held four long candles—one pure white, one deep blue, one scarlet, and one black. When she reached us, she threw back her hood, showing the rest of her face and head.
I bit my lip to hold back a gasp. No matter how often I visited the Holy House (which wasn’t often since my mother had died) the sight of the Sympath priestess still shocked me. She had four faces—each with different features. Each face represented a face of the Goddess whom she served.
When one face was speaking, the others were quiet—the eyes and mouths closed and serene. Except, of course, during a holy ceremony. Then things were different and all the faces got involved.