A Princess for the Witch Doctor (Legends of Rahasia Book 3)

Chapter Seventy

I take the pouch of coins from my belt. Our Empire had a good harvest and trade deal with Akua and the Raja districts after I'd captured the witch doctor. Coins won't be a loss... not until war starts again, that is.

I stare up at the image of Ode Ngayoh, engraved into marble. Aside from some artistic license on the part of the muralist, she looks much the same as she did when she cursed me. A lioness's mane of hair around her head, a halo. Plated armor and bound breasts. Blood-moon and black eyes, dark as night, red as blood. And her scimitar, a blade across her stomach. So comfortable in her grip. An extension of her body.

I fall to one knee, breaking out into a nervous sweat, my cropped hair pulled tight behind my ears. "Khodaye man!" I call her my god, as there's been a general shift in Rahasian theology to call every god a god in prayer, for the sake of the love god Aziz's gender neutrality. "Khodaye man, komak!" My god, help. My god, help.

I step back, hissing, as the coins melt, the burning liquid stinging the edges of my toes. I don't move fast enough. My heel catches on a stair and I tip a half a flight, skinning the backs of my legs. I let loose a stream of highly un-pious curses as I try to staunch the blood that's seeping into Zahra's cloak.

"Well, well, well... What a sight." I see her eyes before I see anything else. Glowing in the heat of the torches placed at the sides of the temple. Stepping down stairs, her earth-toned skin gleaming. "Princess Arnina, grown into her rightful place." She leans down, the edges of her face coming into the light. She isn't as gorgeous as Aziz, not as flashy in style as Kaliya. Her beauty is in her strength, her power and raw energy. Her beauty is in her muscles, the set of her legs. The edge of her vicious blade.

"Because of you, I was forced to accept challenges." I spit, rubbing blood and dirt from my legs. "Because of you, I'm married despite loving someone else. Because of you, a child murderer is still living. Because of you..."

Ode Ngayoh, the goddess of death, grabs me by my arm, wrenching me up with strength no mortal could possess. "Because of me, because of me!" She glares at me like a mother would scorn a child. "You give no credit to yourself. I saw great power within you." I'm taken aback at that. Didn't Barong say something similar back in Jiwa? I see you as the highest of leaders. Perhaps the gods aren't so different after all. "I wanted you to access it."

"Did you ever think to ask me first?" I reply, knowing that I'm on dangerous ground. The gods weren't meant to intervene in mortal affairs, but they're still allowed in their own temples. This is her land, not mine. Her power reigns here, not mine.

"I've been a god too long. I've forgotten what asking means." She sighs, seeming to shrink in stature, falling to my height. "Tell me how I can help then." To my great shock, she concedes, leaving her weapons and armor. Dressed in a plain shirt and şalvar.

"Leave me alone." I reply. "Let me just rot."

"Arnina," she places her hand on my shoulder, adamant this time. In her, I don't see the object of my hatred or suffering. Instead, I see an older version of Kaliya. At peace with herself and the world around her. No god of death, of war. Someone else entirely. "Help me make things right. Help me do what is best for the Empire."

I look into those eyes, the power of eternity within them.

"Do you mean it?" I ask, watching her.

She smirks. "Is that a challenge?"

I feel something breaking within me then, something leaving.

Gods, I think, disbelieving it myself, she just took away the curse.

***

Readers,

Hmm, wonder what happens next.

-Sophia