deadly divinations

Chapter Four

She stared into the mirror before her, examining her reflection critically. The outfit that Daughter of Ceremonies had chosen for her to wear on the day of her Induction into the Touched Daughters wasn't something she was overly fond of. It showed over every scar that Cowan had made on her body over the past sixteen years of her living among the Children of Darkness. All around her Daughters were talking excitedly. Today was the day that they were given away to one of the Sons. These joinings, formulated over the years, were carefully thought of by both their Mother and Father. Daughters were given away six months after their seventeenth birthing day on the night of a full moon. Sons were given their slaves on three months after their eighteenth birthdays on the night of those same full moons.

"Is everyone ready?" the Daughter of Ceremonies asked from the doorway.

Sorrow turned away from her reflection, a hollow look in her green eyes. "Do we have much of a choice?" she asked flatly.

The Daughter of Ceremonies smiled mirthlessly at Sorrow. "No," she said, "You do not."

"I didn't think so." Sorrow growled.

The girls had begun to form a queue before the door. Sorrow took up the very rear of the line and as they moved forward, she shuffled after them. The Daughter of Ceremonies led them to Great Hall where the entire population of the Palace of the Night had conjegated to watch the ceremony. The whole seven hundred and seventy-six of them.

Ranging themselves between the five tables and the dias where their Father's throne stood, the Untouched Daughters stood silently waiting. The Daughter of Ceremonies took her place back in the lap of the Son she'd been given to and smiled plesantly at the girls standing before everyone. As Sorrow gazed at the faces staring at them all, she knew that the Untouched Daughters sitting at the very back table in the Great Hall were holding their beath in the hopes that she, Sorrow, was given to someone who could tame her. A growl of anger welled up in throat. Not even Cowan's slicing into her skin form of torture had settled her. If anything it had made her even more rebellious. Her number of beatings had increased greatly since that day. More than once she'd nearly died. Much to her own dispair it was only nearly.

"My Children," their Father boomed from his throne. "Today is the day that I present my worthy Sons with a gift. The gift of their very own woman." His eyes landed on Sorrow and a sick smile twisted his face. "Their own slave to do with what they will. Someone to warm their beds at night and do everything they desire." Sorrow turned to gaze at the man behind her and his eyes danced with an evil mirth. "No matter how deviant it may be."

With a wave of fury, Sorrow whirled back to the crowd seated before her. From the moment she'd been able to crawl out of bed after that first beating, Sorrow had been informed of her one duty among the Children of Darkness. And it was that one thing that she'd tried to prevent herself from becoming. Sadly, she had failed. The beatings hadn't killed her. All they had done was scar her and transform her into something even more desirable because of her strong will. Men liked a woman they could dominate. They wanted to break her to their will. Most of them did anyway. A great majority didn't want the hassle of such a woman.

"Come forth my Sons." their Father said.

Twenty Sons moved to stand before him, behind the Daughters and with their backs to them so they were unable to see which ones were present. Sorrow fought the desperate urge to turn around and gaze at the backs of heads. She swallowed her impulse and clenched her hands at her sides. Whoever he gave her to wouldn't win. He wouldn't break her. That, she swore to herself as she stood trembeling with fury as she awaited the words that would bring her face to face with her new Master.

"And now, my Sons, go forth and claim what is yours." their Father said.

The sound of clothes rustling as the Sons turned around filled Sorrow's ears. A pair of large hands took hold of her slender shoulders and turned her around slowly. Sorrow stared up into the most beautiful ice blue eyes she'd ever seen before in her life. He was handsome, this man. Standing at five foot, ten inches tall the Son she was to belong to had short blond hair, a slender face with a beak-like nose resting in the center, a full mouth with light pink lips so soft they would have made a bird's feathers weep with envy. His face was slender and freckles dusted every visible inch of him. Sorrow felt her fury melt away in a wave of icy longing. She could have wept at the beauty this man possessed.

"I'm Everitte." he said softly, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

His voice was as intoxicating as the taste of the Dragon's venom and as smooth as silk against naked skin. "Sorrow." she managed to whisper.

He nodded. "I gathered that." he said with a chuckle. He let his hands trail from shoulders and down to her scarred back. "These gave you away." His fingertips played along the length of her scars but a look of disgust didn't tinge his eyes. If anything they became more inflamed with desire so hot that Sorrow thought she would burn underneath such a gaze.

"Before you take them away my Sons," their Father said, "It is customary to give your slave something that will mark her as your own. A trinket that will show the other Sons that she is yours and yours alone."

Everitte removed one hand away from her reluctantly and dug into the pocket and withdrew a black velvet chocker with a pewter dragon pendant dangling from it. This he put around Sorrow's neck, his fingers lingering against her skin after he'd tied it into place. All around them, Sons were presenting their women with different trinkets. Sorrow's fingers went to the pendant resting in the hollow of her throat. It was done then.

"Take them away, my Sons." their Father said, clapping his hands together once. "Tonight you join the ranks of Slayers!"

Everitte took Sorrow's hand in his and led her through the Great Hall. She followed him a daze, torn between wanting to kill him and wanting to give herself as totally as she could to him. Somewhere behind her, Sorrow was dimly aware of the fact that those left in the Hall were going to drink the night away. Vaguely she remembered passing many a Induction nights that way. Those nights seemed so far away now that she followed this man to his quarters in House of Slayers.

A thrill of fear ran down her spine like she hadn't felt since the day Cowan had cut into her. What did he expect from her?