beeline toward her, smiling. No pageant jokes this time, Faith, I remind myself. You’re totally from this place, remember?
When she casts a timid smile in my direction, I smile back and thump down on the ground to sit next to her. “Hi there! I’m Faith.” I offer her my hand. “I’m new here.”
Her brows draw together and she tilts her head charmingly. “An unusual name. Where are you from?”
“Oh, here and there.” I wave a hand airily, because I know trying to explain that I’m from the US and from Earth will just be a mistake. “You?”
“Avalla. From Glistentide.”
“Totally one of my favorite places,” I lie, keeping my tone friendly. I sit down next to her and fold my legs under me in the same prim stance, my hands on my lap. “You’re far from home, I think. How’d you end up here?”
“In Aventine?” She bites her lip and ducks her head, looking so shy and awkward it hurts me to think of her in the same situation I’m in. “My parents sold me to a traveling merchant. He was very kind but I did not enjoy his advances much. He was very old and I admit I had foolish dreams like any young maiden.” She shrugs and her smile grows wider. “So he brought me here and then gave me as an offering to the temple, to be a cleaver bride. It is a great honor.”
Avalla says the words, but her smile is a little forced, the look in her eyes a little too blank.
Yikes.
I lean in close. “Like I said, I’m new here. Is it really an honor or are we screwed? Be honest.”
She looks startled at my words, and then her lip trembles. Her eyes become glassy with unshed tears and she blinks rapidly, wiping at the corners of her eyes with her fingers. “You will make me weep and then I will be blotchy.”
Yeah, I’m pretty sure if this was an honor, she wouldn’t be crying. Not crying like that, anyhow. That tells me everything I need to know. Cleaver bride is not a good thing to be. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right. I just want to look my best for when we meet the prelate at the choosing.”
“Choosing?”
Avalla gives me a curious look. “The temple’s choosing…for the Anticipation? You have not heard of such a thing?”
I shrug. “Really, really not from here.”
“But surely your land has gods. It is the Anticipation.” She says it as if there’s a “duh” at the end.
“Well, I’m sure anticipating learning what it is,” I joke.
She wrinkles her nose. “Your accent is strange,” she agrees. “Are you from across the seas?”
“Something like that.” I gesture with my hand, indicating she should continue. “Tell me more about this choosing? There are a lot of women here. Are we all being chosen?”
“Oh no. Just one. The others will become cleaver brides.”
Just one. Not great odds, and I’m definitely not the hottest babe in the room. “So what happens to that one? The girl that’s chosen?”
“She will be the servant to the prelate for the next year. He is the chosen priest of Aron of the Cleaver, and as such, she will serve all his needs until the next Anticipation day. After that, she is paid richly and can live a life of leisure having satisfied the gods.”
All right, so it’s clearly a religious thing. Sounds like a personal slave for the local priest, and then freedom. Hard pass. I’ve had enough of slaving. “Life of leisure sounds great and all,” I begin.
“Oh yes. It is a position of great honor.” Avalla’s pretty face is hopeful.
“And everyone else becomes cleaver brides? What is that, like a nun? Spend the rest of our lives serving the gods?” Maybe I can escape a nunnery.”
“You…you don’t know what a cleaver bride is?”
“No.”
She pales and swallows hard. “Cleaver brides are offerings to the god.”
There’s that word again. I’m starting to hate it as much as “tart.” “Offerings?”
“Sacrifices.” She swallows hard and tries to smile, but it has a glassy look to it. “It is a great honor.”
Ok, that is definitely gonna be a problem.
5
There’s a huge knot in my throat and I clamp Avalla’s hand in mine. I’m trying not to panic.
Sacrificed.
To a god.
Me and all these women in this room are going to die if we’re not chosen to serve the prelate. I’m guessing we’re not going to be “serving” like a waitress but more like serving in bed.