Page 1 of The Half King
1
“Fetch me a youngling hare, Cerise. And be quick about it.”
Cerise bowed to the Reverend Mother and spun on her heel toward the rabbit hutch situated at the opposite end of the courtyard. With haste, she wound her way through a maze of marble benches and shrines, moving her feet in an even glide—for ladies of the templeneverran—until she reached the hutch. She opened its roof, sending up the scents of wood dust and sweetgrass and revealing a new litter of kits resting inside. The babies blinked drowsily at her, twitching their downy ears and tiny pink noses. Cerise lifted the smallest kit from its nest and cradled it to her heart. As she glided back the way she had come, she stroked the rabbit’s delicate pelt and smiled as it nuzzled her palm.
She lived for moments like these.
But when she approached the Reverend Mother’s bench and noticed the thick serpent coiled in slumber beneath it, her footsteps faltered and her grin fell. She drew the kit closer to her chest. Now she knew why the Reverend Mother wanted it.
“Come and sit by me,” the Reverend Mother ordered.
Cerise obeyed, though slower than she should have. As she lowered to the bench, she tried to exude the confidence of an oracle—to mask her fear like the other girls did—but her breath shook when she exhaled.
The Reverend Mother seemed to soften at the sound. She extended a withered hand, her long, mirrored fingernails glinting in the sunlight, and settled it atop Cerise’s knee. “Tell me, girl. What do you feel for this animal?”
“Tenderness.” Cerise cleared her throat and spoke more clearly. “Affection.”
“Anything else?”
“Attachment.”
“Do you feel a warmth inside your chest that drives you to protect it?”
“Yes, Your Grace. It’s only a baby. It needs me.”
“Good. I want you to focus on that instinct. The kit’s life will depend on it.” The Reverend Mother pressed a palm to her breastbone and delivered a pointed look from beneath her cap of short, gray hair. She was three, maybe four times Cerise’s nineteen years. No one knew exactly or would even dare to ask. “Compassion is the source of our gift. Let it guide you, and you will See.”
Cerise nodded as if processing the words, but she had heard them a thousand times before. Her earliest memories involved toddling through this very courtyard and admiring the teenage Seers as they honed their skills.
They had made it look so easy.
“Kneel on the ground there,” the Reverend Mother said, pointing straight ahead of her at a stone paver located an arm’s length from the bench…and the serpent resting beneath it. “Take the kit with you.”
The edges of the stone pavers were sharp against Cerise’s knees when she took her place, but she barely noticed the discomfort. She was too distracted by the serpent on the ground in front of her—now awake and flicking its forked tongue into the air. The kit seemed to sense danger. Cerise felt its tiny heart beating faster than angelfly wings.
“Now then…” The Reverend Mother reached behind her and produced a small wire cage, which she placed on the ground directly in front of Cerise. Approximately two hand-widths wide and deep, the cage was open at the top. Along the front wall were six evenly spaced holes, large enough to let the viper inside but too small to allow the rabbit to escape. The holes were facing the serpent, creating a short, straight path from its resting place to the six entrances. “Place the kit inside the cage.”
Cerise did as she was told.
“The serpent will enter the cage,” the Reverend Mother said, “through one of the six front holes. It will not enter from the top. I know this because it is a simple creature and I can See which path it will choose. Close your eyes, clear your mind, and you will See it, too. Once you know the correct entrance, point to it, and I will spare your kit.” The Reverend Mother didn’t speak the alternative, but it hung thicker than pollen in the air.
Before Cerise could prepare herself, the snake uncoiled into a slow, predatory crawl that revealed the pattern of red interlocking circles on its back.A lowland flamewinder. If there was a more excruciating way to die, she couldn’t think of one. She clenched her eyes shut and focused on the warmth within her chest, holding tightly to the glow before it gave way to prickles of anxiety.
Which path will the serpent choose?she asked herself.
There was only darkness behind her eyelids.
She tried again to coax the answer from her mind’s eye.Which path?
Nothing. Not even a flicker of divination passed through her. She had just exhaled to steady her nerves when something happened that curdled her blood.
The kit began to scream.
Cerise opened her eyes in horror. She had never heard a rabbit scream. She hadn’t even known it was possible. It was an eerie sound, so charged with human emotion that she could easily mistake it for the cry of a child. The kit shrieked louder as it watched the snake approach; then, in hysterical panic, it hopped repeatedly against the wire walls, hurtling its tiny body into the barriers with an audiblethud thud thud.
“Draw from your compassion,” the Reverend Mother said.
Cerise refocused, drawing on not only her compassion but every single emotion within her until she feared she might burst from the strain. Sweat slicked her body, making her shiver. She cleared her mind and opened her heart. When that didn’t work, she silently pleaded to the goddess for an answer.
