The Bronze Goddess and the Viper

1-RINA

Fourteen years ago: Rina was five when her father tried to explain the dangers of his position. She hadn’t understood how protecting Trini’s family could make him leave. Until it did. Until his legacy had fallen to her. She understood now.

And she wasn’t going to fail him.

***

The slaver wagon lurched over something hard, throwing Rina's head against the front panel. Rina winced, biting back the sound as her chains rattled. She wanted a few more moments of peace before those driving the wagon knew she was awake.

Beside her, Trini whimpered in her sleep but settled once the rocking stopped. Rina carefully tucked the blonde curl that had fallen in Trini’s face back beneath her hood. Jonathan grunted in the rear corner of the wagon, repositioned his long legs, and went still again. She held her breath—but the wagon didn’t slow. No voices. No hint anyone heard.

The Grand Arcanist, Cardith, claimed this was the safest way for them all to travel, hidden in the smallest slaver wagon of a larger caravan. It was odd seeing both Cardith and Matron Aris dressed as slave traders, stranger still imagining either of them holding the reins. But they’d traveled over half the lower continent without incident.

Still, traveling at night made Rina nervous. Nothing good ever loved the dark.

Rina’s fingers traced the starsteel collar at her throat. She didn’t know how it hid her from the Nyrekyn who hunted the divine, but without it, the visions she had would be enough to make them scent divinity on her.

The wagon jostled again, not as violently as the first, but still more than cracked desert earth should cause.

Rina peered through the wagon slats. Trees.

Holy gods. The only trees this close to their destination belonged to Tharok’s Shroud, the forest where things that entered never returned. At least that’s what the girls on the Isle of Myrrenth had claimed. Their stories were rooted in scripture, but the way they told it made the forest sound alive…hungry.

Rina sank back into her corner. There was no getting out of this now. They were close. And once they got to Jainen, she was out of time.

Jonathan shifted again. He was stirring too much now. Aris had dosed them all herself. The bitter taste of that sleeping draught still lingered in the back of her throat. If Rina and Jonathan were awake, then it was happening. They were going to be separated.

She hated this part. But ever since Trini’s pregnancy had become too much to hide, Aris never allowed her to be seen with Rina.

Another bump, and Trini whimpered again. Rina ran her hand gently over Trini’s arm and sides until she settled. She swallowed thickly. Trini was too far along. The baby would come soon, and that meant they were both out of time.

A part of her had always wondered if death would be worse than this life, but the hope of escape had always stayed her hand. Now, when that question rose, it died the moment Rina saw Trini’s belly. Nothing would keep her from protecting that life.

Gods, she needed to get them away from Aris. Because none of this—none of what the Caijery thought she was—was real.

Rina knew one thing with absolute certainty: there was not an ounce of divinity in her blood, no matter what the Caijery scriptures claimed about girls with visions. Anyone who’d been drugged as many times as she had would see…something.

She should never have admitted that truth to them. But she’d been too young to know what to hide, too young to understand how badly the Caijery wanted a girl who could pass as an Aseryn.

It was the only time she had seen Aris almost pleased. Rina should have known better. Pleasing the Caijery was like asking for something you never wanted. Becoming an Aseryn—or worse, elevated to Goddess—was the last thing she desired. Being chosen by the gods, devoting her life to the temple… it was just another cage with prettier bars.

And yet, she was being smuggled into one of the most ruthless kingdoms in Lower Kaeryth to claim that title. The idea would have been laughable if failure didn’t end in death. Rina didn’t understand why anyone would throw their life away for the chance that the gods might look down in favor.

Her eyes fell to her sleeping friend, to the swell of Trini’s belly. Trini had already served the temple…in a way Rina hoped she never would. Being a vessel of the word—raised to carry scripture and prophecy—was one thing. Being a vessel of the body was something Rina never wanted.

But that didn’t make Trini’s baby any less sacred in Rina’s heart. More so when she thought about why Trini had been made to carry it. Aris was never getting her hands on that baby. In the scriptures, babies were omens. And the way Aris watched Trini made it clear she meant to turn that omen into something worse. Rina would die before letting that happen.

And Jonathan might be the only one who could help her do it.

Her eyes drifted to the man huddled in the corner, Cardith’s latest pet, as Aris referred to him. Rina didn’t know him very well. He was always off running errands for Cardith, and when he was around, he mostly kept to himself. But he never seemed to fail at any task the Grand Arcanist gave him. And she had noticed how every time he was around Trini, he did something small, like bring her water. It was likely because of the pregnancy, but it was something.

His movements were suddenly too still. Jonathan’s body no longer swayed with the wagon's rhythm. He was awake. He was watching her back from beneath his hood. She felt his stare…assessing…always assessing.

It wasn’t like the lingering gazes of temple men. She never saw lust or entitlement in Jonathan’s eyes. But she always felt as if she were being measured against some impossible standard she could never reach.

But was his lack of hunger enough to trust him? Ever since they had left the Isle of Myrrenth to embark on this journey, Rina had asked herself that question. Jonathan was careful around them, which was either orders or self-preservation.

She wasn’t sure about much with Jonathan, but he’d never been cruel. Compared to Aris, that practically made him merciful.

Besides that, he was quickly becoming her only option to get at least one of them out of this mess. And yet…admitting to him that she didn’t really believe she was an Aseryn…would be placing an invisible blade over her and Trini’s throats. She wasn’t sure she could trust Jonathan not to press it in.

But did it matter at this point? Jainen and its Searing Trial was where Rina’s story would end. It didn’t need to be Trini and her baby’s as well.

Jonathan rolled his head toward her and eased back his hood. “Bad road, tonight.”

She barely heard him over the cantor of their caravan, but Rina said nothing.

Jonathan peered through the slats and quickly settled back into the corner of the wagon. “We’re close.”

“Your orders?” she asked quietly.

“Get you inside the city.”

“Me,” she said purposely, before jutting her chin in Trini’s direction, “and the Vessel.”

Jonathan’s dark blue eyes never wavered. “You.”

That was all the finality she needed. “Then what?”

Jonathan said nothing.

“I will enter the cave,” she said, “When I belong to the gods, then what?”

She wanted to ask if he’d thought that far ahead. He might be a hired man, but he hadn’t been with Cardith long as far as she could tell. The Grand Arcanist trusted him enough to use him, not enough to protect him. Which meant Jonathan would likely be the first sacrificed whether he knew it or not.

“You will belong to the gods,” he said, nonchalantly, “and nothing will change for me.”

“Are you certain?” Rina leaned forward, trying to keep her voice as low as possible. “I will walk out of that cave with a title that will change my life forever. Or I’ll never walk out again. Either way, anyone close to me will feel those repercussions.” Her head tilted. “You’ve heard the same stories I have about Jainen’s king and his intolerance of failure.”

Jonathan leaned forward. “Then don’t fail.”

Rina nodded slowly, glancing back at her sleeping friend. “A vessel might be spared…but a servant…” She let the implication sink in before turning back to Jonathan. “Are you certain nothing changes for you?”

Jonathan stared at her, expression unreadable. Rina didn’t trust expressions. Expressions lied. Eyes didn’t. And the confidence in his was wavering.

“Sounds like you expect to fail.” He fell back against the wagon. “Strange faith for someone the Caijery call divine.”

Rina shrugged, knowing she’d never survive. “I will do my best. But the gods are fickle.” And they certainly wanted nothing to do with her after killing that baby. Her gaze fell back to Trini. “They don’t always punish the right people.”

“Your concern for me is heart-warming.” Jonathan’s eyes narrowed on her, but she hadn’t missed the way he’d looked at Trini. It was pity. She just needed to hope that was enough to get his help.

“It is the duty of a goddess to care for all the gods' people.” Her hand rested on Trini’s arm. “But it is human to have favorites.”

Jonathan stared at her so long she felt stripped bare, as if he could see the truth beneath her skin—that she was not divine, just a girl dressed like an idol. Not that she looked the part now. Filth caked her skin to reinforce the illusion of slavery, should anyone question their caravan. In this state, she felt closer to herself than she ever did wrapped in the sheer silks Aris favored. She only hoped Jonathan didn’t see that.

“What is it you want?” he finally asked.

Rina inhaled. This was it. Placing the life of the only person she cared about in this man’s hands would either save Trini or doom her.

And he would demand something for it. Men always did. The question wasn't whether Jonathan would ask, but what she could afford to lose. For weeks she had been weighing secrets against Trini's life. Lies wouldn’t survive Jonathan’s scrutiny. She didn’t have coin. And the one thing she did have was impossible because it was in the clutches of Matron Aris. That left only the truth—or enough of it that mattered.

“Get her out,” Rina said before she could stop herself. “As quickly as possible. Get her out of this city, this desert, of vreking Kaeryth.”

Jonathan leaned forward again, suspicion crinkling his eyes. “What makes you think I can do that?”

“I’ve watched you,” she replied, matching his glare. “You have a knack for completing impossible tasks, which is probably why the Grand Arcanist keeps you around. But don’t overestimate your worth, servant. If I go down, the lowest-hanging fruit will be pruned first. And the only ones to survive the fallout will be your keeper and Matron Aris.”

Rina hated how much that threat sounded like Aris, but she knew it would work. Aris’ threats always did.

Jonathan scoffed. “I see why Cardith calls you ‘little viper.’” But his eyes fell to Trini while a thumb tapped a harsh rhythm against his leg. “Make me an offer. I don’t risk my neck for just anything.”

There it was. She’d prepared for this, but before she could answer, Jonathan held up a finger.

“The ring,” he suggested casually, as if he were asking for water.

Of course, he’d want the Eye of Aserene, the only thing Aris guarded more fiercely than her girls. Greedy jack. “I don’t have it. The Matron keeps it locked up. You couldn’t use the wish anyway. Only the owner of the ring can.”

“Still worth a lot of coin.”

The wagon began to slow. The smell of crisp pine—warning how dangerously close they were to Tharok’s Shroud—suddenly became suffocating.

Damnit. She was out of time. “Something else. Something I can give you now.”

“A secret, then. One that would have value anywhere I sold it.” He held out his hand. “Give me that now. And after I get them out, I’ll come back for you and the ring. A secret for her freedom. The ring for yours.”

Her heart was hammering so loudly, she was afraid Aris might hear. But gods, what else could she do?

“The Matron said the trial is a distraction. Jainen has what she really came for.”

The wagon stopped. Jonathan arched a brow. “Unverifiable rumor,” he shrugged. “I trade in leverage, little viper. Leverage can make people bleed.”

Boots hit the ground.

She hated herself for even considering it. But Trini's freedom outweighed every secret Aris carried. And she had seriously underestimated this man.

Gods help her.

“The baby,” she hissed. “The Matron plans to give it to Oruna. Not Jainen.” Twigs snapped from outside. “Cardith doesn’t know,” she whispered, giving his outstretched hand one swift shake.

Jonathan went very still. She couldn’t read his face or his eyes, and the realization that she had just handed him something that could endanger her friend even more sank in her gut like a stone.

“Deal,” he whispered, leaning back against the wagon just as the lock on the door released—the smell of pine flooding in.

2-RINA

Three months ago: Rina couldn’t believe she had survived the Bog and was about to be gifted the one thing that could finally give her and Trini a way out. The king of Theiss kissed her hand, gave the blessing, and slipped the ring on her finger. Then he warned, ‘Use it wisely. Every desire has a price.’ She didn’t care. She knew exactly what she would wish for. But before she could form the thought, the Matron yanked the ring from her finger—for safekeeping.

Bitch

***

Cardith filled the now open door, moonlight catching on the white hairs peppering his stubble. “You. Out.”

Rina hesitated, glancing back at the man who now held undeniable power over both of them, hoping he was a man of his word.

“Now,” Cardith growled, pulling her attention. His eyes flicked to the hand on Trini’s arm. For a breath, his expression softened. “Just you.”

His chin barely dipped, but it was enough to say Trini would be safe. Cardith would ensure the laws of these lands didn’t touch her or her baby. Rina had to trust that. And if Jonathan had any intention of holding up his end of the deal, she needed to act normal.

She did her best to keep the chains quiet as she moved, trying not to shiver in the desert’s cool night air. But this place had weight. She didn’t know how else to describe the overwhelming sense of dread that swept through her as one foot found the wagon’s step.

Trees stretched above like bars. It was suffocating how their interlocking limbs felt more like a death shroud than protection. Gods. And this was only the edge of the aptly named forest, Tharok’s Shroud. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like deeper in. She didn’t want to.

Her hip gave out as her other foot stepped to the ground. No!

She caught herself and froze, pulse pounding in her ears. Aris would have bruised the other side of her ribs if she’d drawn attention. It didn’t matter how little of her body Aris typically covered in silks, she’d find a way to cover her ‘corrections.’

“Quietly,” Cardith hissed, carefully releasing her chains.