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)
“Jessina, you can’t do this!” Lyrah hissed from her place in the crowd behind me. “We signed a contract!”
“No, you signed a contract!” I snapped, looking over my shoulder at her. “You sold me to Grr. Malofice for the promise of a new wardrobe of designer clothes. I never consented to this Binding.”
“You little liar!” she exclaimed. “You—”
“Silence!” The voice—or rather voices—were thunderous. I faced forward at once and saw that all four of the Sympath priestess’s faces were awake now. “You will listen and not speak!” they all said, speaking in perfect harmony in that same, sonorous tone.
The sight and sound of all four of them talking at once shut everyone in the room up. We all just stated as the priestess continued.
“A test has been asked for—the Triuma Fatala! It proves the will of the Goddess—if two are meant to become one. And it supersedes all other Binding Contracts or agreements that might have been made before it,” she—or rather they—added.
“I really must protest!” Grr. Malofice blustered. “The money I have already laid out for this ceremony…”
He trailed off because the priestess was glaring at him with all four faces now. She was quite tall—almost as tall as Turk—and it was such a terrifying expression mirrored on all four of her visages that I didn’t blame him for falling silent.
“Now we shall proceed!” all four faces declared. “Bring forth the implements for the Triuma Fatala!”
There was a rustling behind her and a moment later two servants of the Holy House—also dressed in red robes—rushed up to her. One of them was holding a deep silver basin in both hands and the other had a stoppered vial filled with some kind of pale pink liquid. She was also holding a long, silver ceremonial needle, I saw.
“Very good. You—come stand by me.” It was only one face talking now and she was speaking to the servant holding the silver bowl. The girl came to stand by her side and held out the bowl submissively.
The priestess looked at me and held out one long, white hand.
“Give me your finger, child. I require a drop of your blood,” she told me.
I held out one trembling hand and she jabbed my index finger with the ceremonial needle. I gasped and fought not to jerk my hand away. We both watched as a droplet of my blood fell into the center of the silver bowl.
At this point, Grr. Malofice spoke up again.
“I really must object!” he exclaimed. “You haven’t even told us how this ‘test’ works!”
The burning red eyes of the priestess flashed.
“Be still and I will explain,” all four heads said in unison. “The proof is in the reaction. When the blood of two who would be Bound together mingles and is touched by the Tears of the Goddess, it will be made clear if they are Fated Mates or not.”
“But how will it be made clear?” Grr. Malofice demanded. “That still doesn’t answer my question!”
“If the two are Fated Mates, a reaction will occur,” all four faces told him. “If they are not, nothing will happen. Observe—I will demonstrate. Give me your finger.” And she held out her long, white hand to him.
“I don’t see what this is going to prove,” Grr. Malofice grumbled, but he held out his finger and winced as the priestess pricked it. A drop of his blood fell into the silver bowl, mingling with mine.
“Observe,” the priestess said again. Plucking the stoppered vial of pale pink liquid from the servant beside her, she drew out the cork and let a single drop of the pink liquid fall onto the blood.
Nothing happened.
“Well?” Grr. Malofice demanded, glaring down into the bowl. “What’s wrong with it? Why isn’t it doing anything?”
“Because you are not this girl’s Fated Mate. Nor is she yours,” the priestess told him. “You want her only to ravish her body—you do not care about her heart, nor do you have any love for her soul.”
Grr. Malofice’s face went red.
“You can’t talk to me that way! You’re lying!”
All four sets of glowing crimson eyes blazed in sudden rage.
“You dare to call a priestess of She of the Four Faces a liar?” all four voices boomed at once.
Grr. Malofice blanched and jerked back.
“No, I just…I was saying…I don’t…” He trailed off again, looking both embarrassed and afraid.
“Be silent!” the faces told him. “Servant, clean the bowl,” she added.
The servant with the silver bowl hurried away and came back a moment later. The bowl was clean and empty.
“Give me a fresh pin,” the priestess instructed. She held out her hand to me again. “Your finger, my daughter.”
She pricked my other pointer finger this time and I watched as another drop of blood fell into the bowl.
Then it was Turk’s turn. He held out his hand and I watched as the priestess pricked his finger and let our blood mingle in the bowl.