Thaelen Chooses a Bride

Concordia, Seven Hundred Years Before

As if in recognition of the events of the day, the rain resumed, the heavy drops seeking to penetrate the canvas of the tents, and setting a chill into the air.

Alandra’s body lay on the bed where Thaelen had f-ked her brother only the night before. Her brother sat on the arm of a chair, Freanya pressed against his side. She wept brokenly into the fine fabric of Harithen’s coat. Her priest hovered behind them, having been brutally rebuffed by Harithen when he had offered “It was the One God’s will,” as comfort to Freanya.

“The One God wanted his faithful followers torn to pieces by flying fragments of metal in an explosion?” Harithen had demanded. “How blood thirsty of him.”

“We should not be here,” Father Gedina complained, wrapping his fingers around Freanya’s upper arm. Harithen tugged her back against him, hissing at the priest. Their eyes met and there was a battle of wills between them. “They were to blame for this,” Gedina accused spitting