Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
That is Nether tongue. It’s saying it has a message from her ‘father.’
“Enough, enough. Take it to the stake so that its life may be a suitable offering,” Coates orders, snapping his fingers more quickly when the changeling continues to shriek.
I know how much my muse dislikes changelings, but she’s studying this one curiously. “No. Let it speak first.”
The cultists glance at their leader, who looks unsure but orders them to halt. The changeling again fixes Maven with a cold, inhuman glare that makes me fantasize about ripping each of its horns off and stuffing them down its gullet.
“Imperrat teb pateris, ut retheas ad illum, recipiet semel dedit. Cavo, mon’neth gemas, telum,” the creature hisses.
Translation, Frost demands through the bond.
Crane doesn’t hesitate as he glares at the changeling.
It said, ‘Your father orders you to return to him, else he will take that which he once gifted you. Heed this warning or weep, scourge.’
This creature is threatening my muse?
“Before we kill it, let’s harvest its vocal cords as a memento of the stupidest shit we’ve ever heard,” I suggest to my quintet, already stepping toward the changeling.
The others agree immediately as Coates looks hopefully at Maven. “Indeed! Would you prefer the honor of reaping its life yourself?”
“No. We’re not killing it,” Maven adds, making me sigh wistfully. She looks at the cultists again. “Give the changeling to my matches.”
Crane gives her a curious look, speaking through the bond.
What do you have in mind, ima sangfluir?
It’s not a full plan yet, but this changeling might be useful. Everett, is there somewhere in the castle where we can hold it until later?
He nods.
The dungeons.
Those are cushy training rooms now, Decimus points out.
No, I turned them into dungeons again while you were a feral beast, Frost explains.
Dungeons are way more useful than training rooms when the world is being conquered.
The cultists shove the tied-up changeling toward us, and Decimus holds on to the struggling creature easily as Maven turns back to Orlando Coates. I dislike the way his beady eyes are so fixated on my keeper. I hope he says something we don’t like so I can tear those eyeballs out to keep him from looking at my muse ever again.
“Then, oh great demigoddess, who shall we sacrifice to earn your approval?” Coates asks, clasping his hands together like a plea as he remains on his knees.
“No one. Stand up.” Maven looks at all the other cultists. “Everyone, get up.”
They obey at once, and Coates takes a few steps closer as his gaze remains affixed to my keeper’s beautiful face. I’m clearly not the only one his avid attention is rubbing the wrong way, because both Frost and Decimus step in front of Maven, brushing elbows so she’s hidden behind them.
“You mustn’t worry!” the cult leader says quickly. “I would never harm the demigoddess. She is a great blessing upon our world. She will guide us into a new and peaceful future!”
The other cultists cheer, many of them bowing again to revere Maven.
Although she keeps a poker face, I know my keeper is uncomfortable with all this blatant worship. She didn’t enjoy getting recognized and stared at while attending Everbound, either. Her aversion to being the center of attention is understandable, considering her adorably antisocial tendencies.
“Take the stake down,” Crane tells Coates, glaring at the wooden structure.
“Not unless the daughter of Syntyche demands it,” Coates says, bowing to Maven. “For we are here to honor her as all past demigods and demigoddesses have been honored. My dear demigoddess, I am a historian at heart. Long have I studied the histories and instances of precious and rare divinities upon the earth, such as yourself. For this purpose, we have come for your blessing and to build a suitable temple for your comfort, for I know you derive holy magic from the formal worship of mortals.”
Crane’s attention slips to Maven.
Is that true?
Yes, unfortunately, she replies through the bond, still studying Coates.
Though with everyone so damned invested in my return, I don’t need a fucking temple or formal anything.
“I’ll give my blessing if you leave,” she says out loud to the cultists.
The other cultists whisper in excitement. Orlando Coates straightens, clasping his blood-stained hands together once again as he supplicates her.
“We would indeed seek your blessing, but please do not send us away before we finish constructing your temple! It shall be complete by midnight. We wish to offer it to you during a grand celebration tomorrow evening. Anyone who wishes to honor you is welcome. We are already preparing a feast,” he adds, gesturing at the meat skewers slowly roasting over fire pits off to one side of the encampment.
“No thanks,” Maven makes a face.
“But—” Coates looks out of his depth before looking at the stake. “It must be because we have not honored you to Syntyche’s liking. I know she would prefer us to sacrifice someone in your honor. Phoebe!”
One of the cultists, a young woman, rushes forward to bow. “Yes, my leader?”
“Tie yourself to the stake.”
“Don’t tie yourself to the stake, Phoebe,” Maven counters, staring down the cult leader as ravens croak ominously nearby.
Meanwhile, Phoebe looks at several other cultists in wide-eyed excitement, whispering, “She knows my name!”
Surely your mother—
Crane pauses that telepathic thought to shudder slightly
—doesn’t truly want someone sacrificed in your honor. Right?
Maven’s answer is matter-of-fact.
From what I remember of her so far, she wouldn’t not want it.
Frost is thoughtful as he considers the cultists we’re surrounded by.
Several of the Reformist leaders suggested something for morale. A formal introduction of you to the troops, or a war gala of some kind. Something to take the edge off before whatever comes next.
“So what?” Decimus asks, forgetting to use the bond.
So maybe their temple celebration shit could be useful, Maven surmises, tipping her head.
Kenzie did mention how hopeless things have been. And we are about to prepare to end
Amadeus, once I’ve finished coming up with a decent plan to attack someone with future sight. I guess it’s just as logical to celebrate the start of a battle as it is to celebrate the end of one.
Decimus grins.
So you’re saying we get to have a wild party before we launch an attack against the asshole who ripped your heart out? As long as those stupid fucking reporters aren’t invited, I’m all in, Boo.
Not to mention, it would serve as a celebration for our new bond, Crane adds.
The rest of us nod in agreement.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.