Sevin: Lords of Satyr (26 page)

When they reached the fountain in the nave, Natalia wrenched herself from her captors and folded her arms. “I’ll cooperate on two conditions,” she announced coolly.

The lay priest in charge of her seemed to be Baldassare. He brushed off her words, affronted. “We don’t require your cooperation.”

“But think how much more smoothly all will go if your godking’s mate isn’t shrieking in terror and cursing your heads.”

He stepped toward her as if to strike her, then thought better of it.

“Females don’t make conditions,” one of the other priests murmured.

“Drug her instead,” someone suggested.

“No, she’s right,” Baldassare relented. “We can’t have her falling asleep or acting addled. It will detract from the sacred aspect of the ritual. The high priest would be displeased.”

“Name your conditions,” one of the priests told her.

Emboldened, Natalia spoke, her voice unflinching. “First, that I will be allowed to continue on as a spinster and will not be wed. And second, that my sister, Sophie, and the other two girls, Leona and Rae, will be permanently spared the festival ritual. That they will instead be allowed to choose their own husbands in their own time. I’ll have all that in writing, witnessed, and set out in a public forum before the community, where all can see.”

“Your conditions are predicated on the assumption that you will not awaken him,” said Baldassare, gesturing toward the altar outside.

“Because that is what I assume.”

“How can you know?” another demanded.

She only stared at them, silent. “Do we have an agreement?”

After a moment, Baldassare announced, “We agree to all but one of your conditions. If you are not the one to awaken the godking, you will consent to willingly take a husband. One who has already bid for you. You will agree to wed one week from tonight, after you have sufficiently ... recovered.”

Natalia sucked in a breath. “Who?”

He bowed slightly.

“
You?
You bid for me?” She stepped back and came up against the wall of the fountain behind her. “You don’t even know me.”

His colorless eyes swept her. “I’ve read your file. I’ve watched you. You will suit me.”

So Leona and Rae had been right about his interest in her. She’d never even noticed he had singled her out. How long had he been watching her and waiting for this eventuality?

She shuddered inwardly at the thought of this man touching her. She wanted to argue the matter, but feared they might renege on the rest of their agreement. “But my other conditions will stand?” she clarified. “No matter what happens to me?”

He nodded.

“I’ll want documents executed, stamped with your official seals, and filed in the courts before I begin the ritual this afternoon,” she insisted.

Murmurs and gasps at her audacity in questioning their word whipped through the assemblage of men, but she held Baldassare’s eyes. He nodded slightly, but she read his anger. Knew he would make her pay if she ever saw herself in his marital bed. She planned to try to escape during her recovery period that would be of one week’s duration after the conclusion of today’s spectacle. And she would take Sophie with her.

While the documents were drawn up, she was remanded into the care of priestesses. Once the priests departed as was customary, preparations began in earnest within the sacred coolness of the temple.

Within moments Natalia found herself naked in the center of a half-dozen clucking attendants, the last of her clothing having been stripped in shreds from her body, as though by the talons of eager vultures. None of what they would do to her here would be undertaken with any malice, but was only part of the tradition, she knew.

Their eyes dissected her, scrutinized her body, face, and hair. Their expressions were doubtful.
So
this
is
his
chosen one?
they seemed to silently wonder.

She quickly found herself held spread-eagle on a stone surface. The priestesses took care that every strand of pubic hair was lathered, then painstakingly shaved from her. Next she was led to the bubbling mosaic fountain in the chapel, where she was bathed by several pairs of gentle hands under the watchful stone eye of their patron god, Bacchus. Fingers darted inside her, cleansing her with a thoroughness that they believed would render her fit for a godking.

Their touches came, warm and gentle, as they rubbed her skin with scented oils. Her hair was brushed and bunched high on her head in a cascading froth.

“I prefer my hair down,” Natalia told one of the priestesses, reaching up to destroy their design. A hand stayed hers.

The high priestess shook her head and spoke directly to her for the first time since she’d come into the temple. “It’s too long. You mustn’t cover your body—it is written in the Tablets. The community will wish to view your sacrifice.”

Natalia reached up and began removing pins from her hair. “But by whom was it written? By male priests? No god wrote it, that’s for certain.”

“Hush and obey, girl. A woman’s place is subservient to the godking, community, and man. In that order.”

Natalia gaped at her, appalled at this determined, dogmatic view espoused even by women themselves. She shook her head, using her fingers to comb out her hair. Then she gazed at the priestess in defiance. The woman only shook her head,
tsk
ing. “We are not your enemies,” she murmured. “Nor are our men.”

Natalia was left to ponder this for the next hour as preparations continued.

Eventually, when all was done and she was deemed properly sanctified, the wedding crown was placed atop her head—the one every girl wore on festival day as she gave sacrifice. It had been forged by a metalworker when the statue had first come to them, and was studded with precious jewels and delicate gilded stars that would sparkle in the sunlight when she ... Natalia swallowed her fear.

They left the confines of the temple flanked by an assemblage of holy men and their guards. All wore their finest raiment for the occasion.

A shimmering, translucent gown covered her from head to toe, and a veil was clasped at her shoulders and left to trail behind her like a train. And beneath those, her lifechain with its twenty-eight beads remained, still encircling her waist. For it could not be lawfully taken from her by anyone but her husband.

The high priestess had touched it briefly before they’d gowned Natalia, tears in her eyes. “I pray that today
his
hands will remove it from you,” she’d whispered.

O
utside in the sun, Natalia’s intended mate awaited her. A sea of humanity swarmed below, covering the hillside as far as the eye could see. It seemed the entire community had gathered for the spectacle, as the high priest had commanded.

With each step she took toward him, her unbound breasts swayed gently, reminding her that she was without her customary underthings. Practically naked save for her translucent sheathing. There would be no corsets or coarse skirts to hide her from avid eyes that would scrutinize her proportions.

She forced the thought away, and climbed the five steps that ran the length of the altar on this, its temple side. She paused on the top step, the statue at a level with her knees. Refusing to glance downward at it, she instead scanned the crowd. The sight of thousands jostling to gawk terrified her.

These were people who had seen her grow up from child to woman. There was the baker who had given her free bread after their mother had died. And the institute’s counselor who’d helped her choose between a course in anthropology or mathematics when she was thirteen. And there—Leona’s father. Couldn’t they see how she trembled? Her eyes darted in every direction, but found no haven in another’s gaze. They all appeared so hopeful.

A lifetime of indoctrination made this rite acceptable to them. They wouldn’t even consider an attempt to rescue her. Her fate seemed certain, and she stiffened her spine, resigning herself to accomplishing this act with dignity.

The priestesses had given her sedatives, both oral and vaginal. She would get through this. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen, and it would be over. And by this act, she would save three girls from defilement.

Afterward, she swore silently, she would run. This backward place was not for her ... or Sophie.

She heard two priests take the steps and come to stand on either side of her. “Beautiful,” a quiet voice said from beside her.

She turned her head and saw it was Baldassare who’d spoken. His hand smoothed stealthily over her hip, unnoticed by the other lay priest. She slapped his fingers away. “I don’t want you.”

“Do you think that matters to me?” he murmured. Staring straight ahead, so none would notice their conversation, he murmured his words, his lips barely moving. “I’ve waited a long time for you. I asked for you years ago when your mother passed on, and again every year after that. Yesterday, I was finally granted permission. In one week you will be mine. Think on that as you lie in your recovery bed.”

The high priest joined them then amid great pomp, bringing with him two priestesses. Baldassare and the other lay priest stepped aside for them, watching as their leader dipped beringed fingers into the urn of holy oil that had been brought to him. They came away dripping. A ceremony began in which sacred unguents were used to anoint the godking’s phallus.

It looked enormous from this vantage point, hard and glistening now with oils. Natalia took a shuddering breath.

High Priest was chanting verses from the Tablets now. Her stomach tensed. Her time was drawing near. His voice rang out, sweeping the crowd. “Before the gods and these witnesses I swear that I will be a faithful and true wife unto you.”

“Repeat what he says,” the priestess whispered to her.

Natalia kept stubbornly silent.

Baldassare stepped closer. “Speak it, wench. Or the bargain you wrought on behalf of your sister and her friends will be nullified.”

She drew a deep breath, then spoke. “Before the gods and these witnesses I swear that I will be a faithful and true wife unto you.”

“Louder, so the community can hear,” the priestess urged.

Natalia cleared her throat and tried again. This time, her voice was stronger as she repeated the remainder of the words supplied to her. “Accept my humble offering, as this day, I give you my body, so that it may become your fleshly haven. So that it might give you succor. And so that I might awaken you and thereby bring an end to the suffering of this land and people.”

The clasp at her shoulder was removed by one of the priestesses, and she was unveiled, left only in her long translucent shift. Red crept into her cheeks. She ducked her head, and her unbound hair swung to shield her.

Below, the crowd murmured, anxious for all to begin.

High Priest moved aside and watched as the two lay priests lifted her to kneel, straddling his belly. Just as Sophie had only last night. A lifetime ago.

“I’ll count the days, wife,” Baldassare murmured
sotto voce.

“What if I don’t fail?”

He snorted softly.

“You don’t think I’ll awaken
him?
”

He smiled and spoke close to her ear under the guise of assisting her. “He’s only stone. No one can.”

Shocked to learn that there were doubters even among the priests, she could only stare after him as he and the other priest descended, leaving her alone atop the altar. From nearby, High Priest called out the words the ritual demanded, his officious voice echoing over the hillsides.
“Who waketh him, shall save our land.”

The crowd took up the chant, repeating it. Natalia had heard these words uttered countless times before as she watched others participate in this sacrifice. Attendance at the ceremony was mandatory in the community. Many of the women in this very crowd had taken
him
inside them—at least partially—before they’d each eventually been wed to another husband. She gazed at the audience and saw Rae crying for her. Leona stood alongside her, her face averted as if she couldn’t bear to watch. No Sophie.

“It’s time, mistress,” the priestess who’d remained told her, her voice kind. “It’s best not to think; just get on with it. Sit back now.”

Tensing her thighs, Natalia lowered herself as instructed, taking care to keep her expression wooden. The cold hardness of him prodded at her private flesh. He was slick, as was she. Both had been plied with facilitating oils. Still she shuddered at the unfamiliar, intimate intrusion.

At last, she glanced at the statue’s face. He looked so peaceful and oblivious of the havoc he’d wreaked in her life. Gravity took her lower, forcing the head of his phallus into her. She tensed her thighs, squeezing his hips between them to slow her descent. Where her flesh met stone, she felt the statue begin to warm. No! It wasn’t scientifically possible for the touch of human flesh to melt stone. She said nothing, praying she was right.

“That’s it,” the priestess murmured in approval. “Press lower.”

“It hurts.” Her palms found the smooth bulges of his biceps, resisting.

“You’re female. It’s supposed to hurt,” a male voice said. Baldassare had returned. To ensure her cooperation? He stood several steps down, where he would not be visible to the crowd beyond her.

“She’s taken the head, nothing more,” the priestess observed.

With painstaking slowness, Natalia bore down. The sedatives were doing their work, dulling the pain. When a sudden tearing sensation ripped through her, she flexed her thighs against him and drew away.

“He’s drawn her woman’s blood!” one of the priests noted. The joyful news that her virginity had been taken was passed from the priests to the crowd, where it spread from person to person like wind rippling over a field of wheat.

“Bear down,” a voice told her.

She tried. For long moments, she struggled onward, then paused, panting. The pain of the impalement was growing worse. The experience was even more torturous than she could have imagined. She’d seen other girls crying and heard them begging to stop during the ritual. Eventually, they’d been allowed to give up.