She stands close to the Goddess. Close enough. One hand on her bow, the other on her blade. Her eyes watch each Priestess as she approaches.
There is a traitor in the Temple.
Her right hand rests on her bow, carved from the legbone of a titan. Her blade sings when it escapes the sheath, forged from a stone that fell from the sky. It’s blue-silver blade gleams — not even marble can mar the blade.
She watches each priestess approach. Watches the Goddess’s blood drip from her hand, each drop gleaming golden fire. One by one, they pledge their loyalty, love, and faith. One by one, each passes the test.
Then, the one called Vala approaches. Ythaedae’s apprentice. A priestess of the second veil. Gwyndd’s hand tightens on her blade. She watches Vala’s eyes. Watches her hands. She kneels before the Goddess, her hand raised, her head lowered.
“I am ready,” she says, softly.
The Goddess raises her bleeding hand and it touches Vala’s. Their fingers clasp…
… and an arrow plunges into the earth between them.
Every face in the courtyard looks up — all but Gwyndd. Her eyes are before her, for she is already moving.
“A message from my master for the False Goddess!” the voice calls out. A woman’s voice from behind the chain mesh of her mask.
Gwyndd is half-way up the wall when the woman leaps from the courtyard wall to the field below. She’s at the top of the wall when she sees the woman rushing across the field toward the forest beyond.
Gwyndd’s bow is in her hand. Her arrow flies before most mortal eyes can even see it’s been strung. The arrow strikes home and the woman falls, skidding across the grass with the impact.
“I have her!” Gwyndd shouts below. Her own lieutenants are rushing out the doors to the blooded field, to fetch Gwyndd’s catch. But the Mistress of Secrets is aleady onto her next task: looking for the second assassin. The true assassin. Not this distraction.
But the walls are clear. There is no other. Down below in the courtyard, the Goddess and Vala stand. Ythaedae and Rowena are on either side of the Goddess, their hands and eyes burning with magical energy. They have done their duty; the Goddess is protected by their wards. And when the bleeding archer is brought into the Temple, it is Gwyndd who is there first.
“Who are you?” she screams into the woman’s face, tearing the mesh mask away. “Who sent you?”
The woman’s eyes are full of tears… but her mouth is full of laughter.
“I serve he who is the new Lord of these lands!” she whispers, blood spackling her words. “My beloved lord who will crush your Goddess with her own desires!”
Before she even knows it, Gwyndd’s sword is in her hand, ready to taste this heathen’s heartblood. But, a gentle hand touches her own, and a soothing fire rushes through Gwyndd’s blood.
“Stay your hand,” the Goddess’ voice commands. The Mistress of Secrets turns to face the Goddess… and lowers her eyes. One cannot look directly into the sun.
Gwyndd steps aside. The Goddess looks down at the assassin.
“What is your name, child?” she asks.
The woman’s eyes look into the Godess’s face. They go wide. Her mouth opening.
“Thayvay,” the assassin says.
The Goddess whispers the name. “Thayvay.” Then, she leans down close to the assassin. “Thayvay,” she says. “Would you suffer my kiss?”
The assassin’s eyes are full of mist. Her voice distant. “I would do… anything for you.”
The Goddess’ bleeding hand rises up and caresses the assassin’s cheek. Golden fire spreads across her skin, sinks between her lips, wraps her tongue.
The Goddess leans closer. “Kiss me, Thayvay,” she whispers. “Kiss me and know the truth about your lord and master.”
The Priestesses stand silent. Gwyndd’s eyes remain vigilant, watching the walls. Watching the women who surround the Goddess.
Watching Vala closest of all.
“Take her to the healing hall,” the Godess says. “Let her drink of the waters there.”
The Priestesses take the assassin away, her eyes and mouth full of fire.
Then, she looks at the arrow. The pointed bolt that passed a moment away from her neck.
“What is that?” she asks.
Gwyndd looks. Something… tied to it.
The Mistress of Secrets walks across the courtyard to the arrow, lifting it from the earth. She unties the package. An envelope of parchment… that feels more like silk. There is a seal…
“His seal,” she tells the Goddess.
She takes the letter from Gwndd’s hands. “Thank you, Mistress. I will read this privately.”
Ythaedae shakes her head, “My Goddess. We know not if any wards or spells…”
“I said privately,” the Goddess says, the words hissing through clenched teeth.
All the women bow. Gwndd walks the Goddess back to her private chambers without saying a word. When the Goddess opens the doors of her chamber, Gwndd sees the sheets of her bed half thrown to the floor.
“My Goddess, if dreams haunt you, I may…”
“You are no longer needed,” the Goddess says. “I will call you if I do.”
Gwndd nods and bows. The Goddess closes the doors. They lock from the other side and no woman, not even the Keeper of Secrets, has that key.