Goddess Rising

The prince nodded at the man behind her, and she felt him leave. The door closed with a soft whistle.

“Stand.”

She obeyed in silence.

“Look at me.”

He seemed exasperated. Her eyes had dropped from his face to the table before him, an ornate silver surface with a gold tray on it. In the tray was an assortment of fruit, grapes being the most numerous, along with a pitcher and a glass of water.

“Don’t stare at the floor when I speak. I can’t tell if you’re listening. Have you been in the prison all this while?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

She wanted to ask where the Black God was. Had he approved this release? Did he know of it?

“My father is on his annual tour of his empire. He won’t walk in unless you poison me again.”

“I - “ She stopped because it was rude to contradict a god.

“You may speak.”

“I did not poison you, Your Grace. I do not know who did. But, if you show mercy, I will find the offender. I swear it.”

He watched her quietly. When the silence had grown long enough that she grew anxious, he spoke again.

“I can’t tell if you’re deluded or lying. But it does not matter.”

Did not matter?

“No, it does not, because my father does not base his rulings on spirited denials by the accused. You are alive at this moment because has put all his effort into tending me. When he returns, punishing you will be his first act. Do you know how he punishes people?”

Aria was still processing his previous statements.

“He does not believe in execution. That is a mercy reserved for the most fortunate offenders. And no one has been so fortunate in centuries. He believes that if a mortal cannot live blamelessly, he must at least function as an example to posterity. So, when he returns, he intends to make a spectacle of you so grand, that for millennia, mortals will be drawn to the site of your suffering unable to keep from witnessing something so horrible and yet so enlightening. No one will ever dare to harm me with you as such an illuminating guide.”

Aria recalled Garo, God of War, impaled above his own temple.

“I’m sorry,” the prince leaned forward. “I’m being vague. What I mean to say is that he will torture you forever in the exact middle of the planet.”

He leaned back on his couch.

“No, I resent your actions. I hate being ill, and having my father fuss over me for the last two months has been its own form of torture. But I think execution is sufficient punishment, and I would rather not watch what he has planned for you. So, I am going to help you. You looked confused. Speak.”

“I - He must know that I am innocent. Gods know these things. He can read my mind. You are reading my mind.”

“I am reading your expressions. But, yes, he can read your mind. That is how he knows that you are guilty. You are the confused one.”

“But I am not -”

“You keep going back to that. Unless there is a deity in existence who can hoodwink my father, you are guilty. You will not convince him otherwise. Your time is better spent earning his mercy.”

“I would remember it!” Caution was clearly serving no purpose. The prince jumped at her shout, but he did not reprimand her. “I would remember poisoning you. I would remember wanting to kill you. I would remember how to kill you. I remember none of those things. I never even met you before the feast. I have no grudge against you. Something has clearly gone wrong, and you are all intent on pretending that I am insane. How does a human poison a god? Even if I did it, someone helped me, or forced me, or orchestrated it. I am innocent, and you know it!”

He watched her with pity. “As I have told you, that anger will help you in no way. I will set you free and hide you for as long as I can. That is all that I can do. While you are hidden, you have one task only: convince my father to kill you. I do not know how you will do that. If I find any insight, I will share it, but the bulk of the task will be yours. If you will hear my recommendations, begin by losing that anger. Defending yourself will not aid you here. If you can, then trust me in this: you are innocent.”

Exhaustion had overtaken her again. She had no more words to give. The speech she had prepared in the darkness of her cell had come out in a scream and brought no profit for her effort.

The prince was on his feet. While she watched, he walked slowly to a desk by the window - the beautiful window, now tarnished in her mind by the reality of her circumstances. He swayed a little as he walked. He was still ill, and Aria realized there was no one in the room to assist him.

As he returned to her, he unfolded a bundle in his hand. It resolved into a black coat. The cut was simple, like something her mother had put her in when the days were chilly enough for bonfire nights. He pressed it into her hands, returned to his couch, and collapsed into it.

“Put that on.”

She obeyed because she had no strength for fighting and no hope that it would change a thing. It reached just below her hips; too large, but serviceable.

“My father made that for me, oh it must have been half a millennium now. I wanted to play hide-and-seek, but it was no fun because he could always find me. So, he made this. When I wear it, I am hidden from his powers. It does not affect his eyes, but he never visits the third realm. You will be safe there.”

“He will search for me.”

“No, he will not. Combing the three realms for a human is beneath him. He will wait until you die, then claim your spirit and resurrect you. That gives you,” he squinted, “fifty or sixty years to solve your problem.”

“How -”

“I said I do not know. We have some time to ponder it. A few notes of caution. Do not return to your hometown. Do not use your real name. Do not enter his temple or pray to him, or tangle with gods in any way. Do not pray to me; it is the same as praying to him. If I have news, I will send a message, but do not rely on me. Do you have any questions?”

She took deep breaths. Her panic was fading or becoming so overwhelming that it seemed to fade. Perhaps it was the coat, but she felt braver. “If I prove my innocence, will he let me go?”

The prince shook his head incredulously. “If you prove your innocence he will go on his knees, beg your forgiveness, and compensate you with enough wealth to rival Evera’s. You will be the first person in history to prove him wrong. Aim lower.”

Aria fingered the coat. The tears on her face were drying, and that suddenly felt disgusting. She wiped them away.

“I have been imprisoned for two months?”

The change in her tone seemed to startle him. “If you have been there since I fell ill.”

“I have not eaten.”

“No one starves here.”

“I mean that I have no money. If you send me back, I cannot buy food or shelter. I’ll die before I can achieve anything.”

He frowned. Her calm confused him, but it made sense to her. The time for crying was past. Pleading had achieved nothing. Now was the time for planning. She was confident in her innocence, and that meant something.

“I will give you money.”

“Can I take off the coat? To bathe?”

“No. I will give you a charm for cleaning. Are you well?”

“No. I have been threatened with eternal torture for a crime I did not commit.” She stared confidently into his eyes. “It is comforting, at least, that you will all regret this. Somewhere, there is a deity powerful enough to deceive your father, and you’re too blind to see it.”

From his expression, he considered her pitiful.

“Do you have any more questions?”