Lifting a hand from the water, I flicked droplets onto the window beside me, watching them roll to the floor before repeating the motion. At least they were able to race away from here. This was what my life had come to—baths with broken ribs and daydreaming of dunking my head under the water and never coming up again. Hope of finding a way out of my situation had stuttered to an ember, and I wasn’t sure how much longer it would be before it was doused completely.

Though this soul-deep rage, at always being told I was worth nothing until my belly swelled, at everything I had endured first under the tutelage of Priestess Anara, then under the control of Vagach, had stayed my hand more times than I could count. Something burned within me that needed to be unleashed, and I had a sick feeling that explosion might spark this day if Vagach planned to couple with me in front of the priestess again. The last time, she’d held my hands above my head while he shoved up my skirts and forced himself inside me, humping furiously until he filled me with his seed. Then, she’d remained there with me until nearly an hour had passed and no hope of washing Vagach away remained.

When the water cooled, I tucked my feet beneath me and rose from the tub, wrapping a bath sheet around my body and walking to the mirror. A small cut decorated my cheekbone, the blood already dried on the swollen tissue around it. My normally symmetrical face, marred by my husband’s hand. I cleaned it with what remained of the bath water, then perched on a stool and brushed out my long, ebony hair before braiding it down my back.

As my fingers twisted and twined, I stared out the window at the sprawling garden. At first, the rows of roses had been my greatest joy, with their voluminous petals in dozens of shades that bloomed at different points of the year. I’d spent so long working the fields for sustenance that I’d never been afforded the luxury of cultivating something beautiful. Vagach bought me rare varieties from far flung parts of the Angel Realm, often difficult to grow in the southern part of the Demon Realm, but under my care they had flourished.

They were as dead outside as I was inside now.

Once the end of my hair was secured in a burgundy ribbon, I gave myself a final once-over. My almond-shaped eyes and plump lips would be hidden, along with the healing bruises, soon enough beneath another sheer sheet of black. With a sigh, I rose, slipping into the sleeping chamber again. From the wardrobe, I pulled out another plain, modest black dress and shimmied into it before donning a blood-free veil and pinning it in place. Vagach normally liked to see me without both when we coupled, but I wanted to save as much of my dignity as I could for this encounter.

My heart hammered helplessly in my chest, as if its racing could take us away from here, from what was about to happen. The beating came to a frenzy when voices drifted down the hall, accompanied by heavy footsteps.

They were coming.

Hands shaking, I managed to climb onto the wide bed and lay directly in the center, hands folded over my abdomen. The simple gold ring with a tiny garnet stone that had belonged to my mother twisted endlessly around my forefinger as I waited for the inevitable. At least, with my husband’s wealth, the mattress was soft. Our entire house was filled with fine furniture, yet I appreciated none of it, not when my existence was so caked in misery.

The door creaked open, and I stopped breathing as Vagach and Priestess Anara entered the room. They didn’t bother to close the door behind them. Every muscle in my body wanted to leap into action, to fight back against further torment.

But I was powerless; I was trapped, and there was nothing—never going to be anything—I could do about it. Not when females were subservient to males and we relied on them for everything.

“I will say a prayer before we begin,” Priestess Anara stated, perching on the edge of the bed and yanking a hand away from my belly to hold. I flinched, but her grip was like a vise and my hand moved nowhere. Outside, birds chirped, and I clung to the sound, imagining that I was one of them, with the breeze ruffling my feathers and the ability to fly far, far away from here.

The sound of Vagach’s belt unfastening filled the air a moment before the priestess began a rhythmic chant that I’d heard far too many times in my life. I tuned it out as I willed myself to remain still, to not make this any worse for myself than it already would be. But that fire burned with me, hate growing so large and so thick that my small body was never going to be able to contain it.

Smother it, Assyria!

The wood frame creaked as Vagach joined us, and my knees involuntarily clamped together.

“May the Weaver look kindly upon this union and thread a path to children for Kormánzó Vagach and Assyria. May the Giver offer their child abundant, rare magic. May the Reaper cast her shadow elsewhere so that Assyria’s womb bears fruit.” Priestess Anara finished her prayer with a touch of our joined hands to her forehead, and I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the inevitable feeling of Vagach settling between my thighs.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound caught my attention like nothing had in recent months, and my eyes snapped open. Priestess Anara and Vagach’s attention were torn by it too, both looking at each other and then around to the door. My focus bounced between them, the door, and the windows as the drumming grew louder, closer, much like the beat of my own heart against my ribs. But it wasn’t the footfalls of someone else in the house. This sound was like distant rain mixed with rumbling thunder, the type of storm that informed you of its approach before it cracked open the sky above you and swept away everything in its path.

A whinny broke the still air, and my eyes widened as I realized what the sound was—hoofbeats. Disregarding my husband and Priestess Anara, I raced to the paned window. Our estate was on the outskirts of the Stryi, which meant we were always first to spot new arrivals, though a sprawling garden surrounded by wild, thorny bushes blocked most of the view.

Poised on the tips of my toes, I tried to peer over them. Dust kicked up off the main road in the distance, though the forms were indistinguishable in the mid-morning light.

“Out of my way,” Vagach growled, shoving me to the side. I barely managed to avoid colliding with an expensive vase on a pedestal as he filled the space I had occupied. The priestess joined him, hushed whispers passing between them. I crept around toward the window closest to the bathing room, desperate to see who had come to Stryi in such large numbers.

“Assyria,” Vagach barked, and I spun to face him. He tucked his tunic back into his pants and refastened his belt. “Stay in the house and do not come out for any reason.”

“Why? What is going on? Who are those riders?” I asked despite my better judgment. I’d never been great at keeping my mouth shut. Priestess Anara shot me another warning look, like I didn’t already know I’d pushed the limits of what the two would tolerate that day.

“No one you need to concern yourself with,” he snapped, smoothing his hands over his long, neatly tied hair—always a source of pride to my noble husband.

The corners of my mouth dipped down, causing a twinge of pain from the bruise on my cheek before I smoothed my expression again. Vagach narrowed his eyes at me as I stood before him, twisting my fingers together, my lifelong nervous tic. I dropped them away and patted my skirts, “What about temple?”

“You may skip temple today,” Priestess Anara stated, and my heart leaped at the thought of a day free from hours of prayers on my knees, the priestess, and her wicked cane.

Vagach wasn’t finished with me, unfortunately. “I still expect you to pray to the Fates and ask for them to weave you a destiny that includes powerful children, Assyria. Later, I will check that you have made the proper offering as well. We will couple when I return.”