The Half King

by Melissa Landers

“Compassion is the source of our gift. Let it guide you, and you will See.”

Three moons. That was how much time Cerise had until she turned twenty and celebrated her Claiming Day, the final occasion upon which her gifts—assuming she had any—would manifest. If she didn’t receive the Sight by then, she never would. It was the same for all second-born children given in service to the goddess.

“You may remain here with me at the temple,” the Reverend Mother said. “But I do not believe this is your place. Today I learned that my oldest and most trusted servant has died. I believe your purpose is to replace her as the temple emissary to His Majesty Kian Hannibal Mortara.”

That was the place. The place where the Great Betrayal happened. The very same mountain peak on which the four noble dynasties had gathered together and conspired to slay the goddess. Conspired and failed, resulting in a thousand years of curses for the noble firstborns and the lands of Mortara.

“Well, there’s an old rumor,” Daerick went on, “that the Solon seducer was a woman and that Shiera impregnated her and sired a race of demigods. The Triad believes that Shiera’s descendants should be in control, not the priests or even the king. They have followers in all four lands, but the sect is especially popular here.”

For his body to follow the pull of his spirit was an oddly romantic element of his curse that she hadn’t anticipated.

“Let me predict something for you, my lady of the temple.” His voice, already deep, turned sinister. “You will find evil here, in the most unexpected places. By the time the shadows consume me and I dissolve into nothing, you’ll wish you could forget all the things the temple has hidden from you.”

Whatever he’s keeping in there, he’s willing to lie to protect it. And if he’s willing to lie, we have to assume he’s willing to do more than that to stop you from finding it.” “Are you implying he would hurt me?” “People have done worse things to bury their secrets.” “He’s no ordinary person,” she pointed out. “No,” Daerick agreed. “And that’s what makes him dangerous.”

“‘To house Calatris, which devised the method to slay the goddess, she unleashed more knowledge than the mortal mind could bear. To house Petros, which forged the weapon against her, she gave the curse of bloodlust. To house Solon, which seduced her from the heavens, she bestowed self-destructive beauty. And to house Mortara, she gave the curse of darkness, to disappear into the shadows for eternity.’”

“Neither,” she teased, smiling and blinking her eyes dry. “The goddess achieved perfection when she created women. We want for nothing.”

There’s no such thing as an unnatural tendency. If something occurs within nature, it is by default natural. What’s unnatural is to vilify it and criminalize it and force people into hiding for being born the way they are.”

“You’re not an oracle,” Nero said. “And you never will be. You’re umbra sangi.” Cerise whipped her gaze to him. “What does that mean—what does any of that mean?” “I want to know, too,” Daerick agreed. “I think the direct translation is hot blooded, but that’s all I could find out.” “Fire blood,” Nero corrected. He jutted his chin at her. “You’re a descendent of the goddess. Her life force runs in your veins.”