In the deepest part of my soul, in the pits that lay covered with the steel reserve I’d been forced to forge, I knew it was true. “They want to ensure only the strongest survive. And then what? What’s the point? No one gets past the walls.”
“The men become generals and captains in the Royal Army, the best of them ascending to the Royal Guard.”
“I forget we even have an army,” I muttered. Eserene’s walls were two hundred feet high and the harbor was so vast that not even cannonballs would make it to shore from behind the breakwall. The Cliffs of Malarrey were vertical with few footholds. Why the hell would we need an army?
“They are more symbolic than functional, I can tell you that, even with the finest warriors bearing arms,” she said, scoffing. A nostalgic smile pulled on the corners of her lips. “I assume they became even more pointless as the years went on with what I’d heard from…” She trailed off, catching herself from talking about her late lover. I made a mental note to ask his name after she finished. She shook her head quickly. “They’ve never seen battle, and likely never will. Saints willing, of course. But Umfray always kept them organized and ready in case Kauvras’ forces came calling.”
I leaned back, picking out my favorite painted rose on the ceiling. Wrena stayed sitting, the nervous energy fluttering off of her in palpable waves. “So we’re breeding mares.” Wrena said nothing. I lifted my head, looking at her. “What? We’re basically breeding mares, are we not?”
“Yes…” she trailed off, her mouth forming around words she wanted to say but couldn’t spit out.
I sat up again, searching her face. “Tell me.”
She was visibly distressed. “I don’t even know if it’s true.”
“Tell me.Please.”
“It’s just…there are rumors, as there always are.” She went quiet. I raised my eyebrows toward her, tipping my head forward. “The Board of Blood is supposedly searching for something. A child of the Saints.”
“The one that Kauvras is looking for? That he claimed the Saints told him to find? The chosen one?”
“The very same.” She wrung her hands in her lap, her fingers going white in the spots she squeezed. “They believe that immortality flows through the veins of the individual. And if they find this person…” She exhaled as if banishing the thoughts from her lungs. “They’re just meaningless whispers, Petra.” But I could tell by the sound of her voice that she believed it.
“And the Board of Blood claims the Saints spoke to them as well?”
“I don’t know what they claim. All I know is what I’ve heard, and that’s it. I assumed you already knew this.”
Growing up in Inkwell, the damned Benevolent Saints rarely showed face. The Blood Saints, yes. But the Benevolent Saints seemed to be a farce. A severe illness overcome here, a bountiful harvest of mussels there. I felt shimmers of their presence only when I swiped someone else’s valuables, knowing I’d be able to feed my family. I quickly reminded myself that it wasn't Tolar, Saint of Wealth who granted me the little I could get. That wasme.
I could only assume that the Saints the Board of Blood had heard from were the Saints who carried the same name.
“And…” Her voice went quiet, pained. “Again, I don’t know if it’s true, but…” Barely above a whisper. “The reason they have you raise your wrist is because the Initiation requires a blood sacrifice.”
“A blood sacrifice? What the fuck?”
“They’ll…tasteyour blood. To honor the Saints.”
“What fucking Saint requires ablood sacrifice?” Realization hit me. “None of them. Not even the damned Blood Saints. They want the blood of each Initiate to test their theory of immortality.” My volume increased, the panic setting in. “They believe that the child of the Saints is a girl in the Low Royal Court? And all of this was put into place because Umfray didn’t want his brother to take over?” There were no other ceremonies in Eserene that required any sacrifice of the sort, much less blood. I was being fucked by my minimal knowledge of Eserene and the world beyond.
“I don’t know, Petra. This is just what I’ve heard.” Her voice took on a soothing tone, like she had just told me the most horrendous news and was trying to comfort me. Like she had just told me the history behind my cause of death and now tried to shush me into peace of mind.
The idea of a blade to my wrist didn’t bother me. The idea of the sight of my blood dripping down my wrist didn’t bother me, either. What bothered me was that no one mentioned the fact that there would be mendrinking my blood.That no one, not Marita, not Lord Castemont, not even my own mother had told me, though the latter may not have known. That the Board of Blood was called that for a reason, that my blood would be sipped and I would be cast aside like an empty cup. I ran my fingers through my hair, ripping through the knots and tangles left behind from the pins I had removed.
“The Benevolent Saints will smile upon you, Petra.”
“The Benevolent Saints aren’t real,” I muttered evenly.
Wrena gasped. “Petra! How could you say–”
“The Benevolent Saints aren’t real,” I repeated, emphasizing each word with painful clarity. “I will be dead between the peaks of the Onyx Pass in two days’ time, Wrena, because a group of fucking men want to slit my wrists and throw me to the beasts for being unworthy. If the Benevolent Saints are real, then they sure as hell don’t smile upon me.”
???
I put all my effort into maintaining a sense of normalcy at breakfast. This was to be our rest day, used to make any final preparations before a life in the Royal Court. I had a sick feeling, however, that it was intended to allow families to spend time with their daughters for what could be the last time. A small, sick mercy granted by the Board of Blood.
My mother and Castemont were silent, the unmistakable tension pulsing through the air like a live being. Ma’s face had been drawn, forlorn, slightly reddened all morning. She was trying to keep me from seeing her fear. No, not her fear. Fear needed uncertainty to grow. She was certain that she would be losing another daughter come tomorrow.
Another daughter gone without a body to bury.