Chapter 8

Pagan stood in front of the fireplace and stared into the flames lost in thought. It had been an emotional day, one she needed once she thought about it, or at least the part about her parents, and the rest she could have definitely done without.

The image of Tristan roaming his hands all over her body relentlessly no matter how much she begged him to stop filled her mind. She never knew she was ticklish, and once Tristan found out she was, he used it to his advantage and ran his tickling fingers to find every one of her vulnerable spots. She shivered, as if he was tickling her right then, and she rubbed her arms to try to shake the feeling.

She glanced around her room. It was late and the only light was the glow from the fireplace. She walked over to the window and leaned out to look around the gardens below. She was still feeling lonely and wondered if Tristan was coming to sleep with her again like he had done every night since she came to Aradia.

She looked out the window again, knowing full well if he was coming, he wouldn’t be using the garden entrance. He would come in the front door, as if he lived there, and walk up to her room and make himself at home. It usually annoyed her, but tonight, she felt vulnerable and a part of her needed his reassuring arms to hold her till she fell asleep.

What was happening to her? She should still be furious with him over the whole betrothal contract thing and his arrogance of thinking he owned her. This world was so different than anything she ever could have imagined it to be. Looking at Aradia through the eyes of a stranger was the advantage she had over the women who were born and raised here. They accepted the laws placed on them and they didn’t seem to feel they were oppressed at all.

But do people who have never had a sense of freedom really know they are being held down? Their world really didn’t have any examples of women being equal to men and being dependent on them was the norm around here.

She didn’t want to be dependent on any man, she had been on her own, roaming the jungles of Mexico to survive, and having to now bend to the will of a man was hard for her to contemplate. But at the moment, there was one man she desperately wanted to take away her cares, and that man was Tristan.

Where was he? She closed the window and drew the drapes shut. She walked back to the fireplace and held out her hands to warm the chill out of her body.

Tristan leaned against the doorframe, watching Pagan as she warmed her hands by the fire. She turned to the side, and he caught the silhouette of her slender body through the thin chemise she was wearing. It wasn’t her usual nightgown she wore to bed; this was softer in fabric and thin to the point it was almost see through. The way her breasts hung freely from her chest and jutted out slightly because of their roundness was a breath taking sight to behold.

She leaned over to adjust the log and the thin shoulder strap fell gracefully over her shoulder. She didn’t pull it back up; she just left it there, as she continued to poke at the logs. Her breasts jiggled slightly when she moved her arm and he found himself hardening in his loins. She was his by law and that same law prevented him from taking her to the bed and sating his need for her.

She wasn’t aware he was there, and he wanted to keep it that way for a little while longer. He wanted to look at her in this natural state, to watch her move, admire her from afar before she started throwing her hurt feelings at him at their situation. He did truly love her, even though he had only known her for three weeks, but he had spent every one of those days with her and knew the moment her priest placed her in his arms that she was to be his. It was just a feeling he had, or maybe intuition, but whatever it was, he was glad of it. Pagan was his and she was going to be his wife.

A white cat came down the hall and rubbed against his leg, purring. Pagan stood up and gave him a welcoming smile that he was surprised to see. She walked over to him and leaned over to pick up the cat. As she did, the neckline of her chemise fell open and he caught a glimpse of her delicate round breasts. Her nipples were hard, presumably because she was cold, and he immediately went into her room to have her follow him, petting the cat.

“Here, put this on,” he said.

He held out a shawl that had been draped over the small chair she usually sat in to eat her meals. She turned her back to him and he wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Thank you for this nightgown, Tristan. I wasn’t expecting it. I thought you only ordered dresses for me.” She turned to face him, as she stroked the cat’s soft fur.

“You’re welcome, though to be honest, I didn’t order that. It looks more like something Betha would wear, so I guess she asked the seamstress to make it for you. I’ll have to thank her for that, it looks beautiful on you.” He reached out to stroke the head of the furry cat. “Where did she come from?” he asked. The cat nudged her head in his palm and began to purr a little louder.

“I believe she likes you.”

“Well, I’m a likable guy.”

“Apollo gave her to me. After you left me in the rotunda, He came to me and comforted me till you returned with my grandmother. He said a pet can be a friend in times of need and she was going to help me deal with my grieving.”

“How kind of the deity. But, why a cat?” The white ball of fur stretched out her front leg and patted his arm.

“He said He wanted to give me a dog, but I looked more like a cat person, and well, here she is. I named her Bella.”

Pagan took a step closer to him. She lifted her eyes and he saw the sadness that filled them. She seemed different tonight, almost in need of companionship and he wondered if perhaps she was having a change of heart toward him. He hoped so. He wanted this rift between them to be healed.

“Tristan, I don’t want to argue with you tonight. I’m still,” she let out a sigh laced with sorrow, “my heart is broken over my parents and I need someone,” she hesitated, “no, not someone, you. I need you to hold me.”

He knew that was hard for her to admit, he saw a tear form in her eye and soon more flowed freely to wet her cheeks. He wrapped his arms around her, and the cat crawled over his shoulder to jump to the floor. He tucked her head under his chin and filled her body with pure white healing energy. It was the least he could do for her. She sobbed and clung to him, as if she were trying to keep from falling.

“It hurts, Tristan. This pain in my heart hurts. Please, don’t leave me, stay with me tonight. I don’t want to be alone. I need you.”

Her grief took over her body and she fell into him. Tristan reached around his back and grabbed her wrists to bring them between their bodies. He held his hands around hers and placed them on his chest.

“Pagan, I know you are grieving, I can feel it and it pains me to see you this way. I’m not going to leave you, not tonight,” he tried to reassure her.

He walked her over to her chair and she slowly sat down, letting her shawl gracefully fall down her back. He went to the bed to turn down the covers before he stripped off his boots and clothing. He returned to her, and she reached up to him. He picked her up and carried her to the bed, laid her in it, covered her with the warm blanket, and then scooted in behind her, wrapping his body around her. He nuzzled his head in her hair.

“Go on, let it out. You need to heal, and crying will help. I’m right here, princess, I’m not going anywhere.”

That was all Pagan needed to hear. She let loose all her anguish and her tears fell of their own accord, wetting her pillow with her grief. She had been angry for too long and blamed her parents for deserting her and that anger blinded her to the truth that she had known in her heart all along. It wasn’t fair to her parents’ memory for her to do that and she deeply regretted her selfishness.

They were dead because of her and that fact was never going to change, but if Tristan was right, then they died trying to keep her. They loved her that much and she wanted to remember that as the truth and hold it dearly to her heart.

Pagan clutched Tristan’s hand and held it tightly against her breasts. His warmth engulfed her, and she was cocooned in a sphere of white light he had created around them in order to ease her grief. He truly did love her and in spite of being forced to take her as a wife, he had said he would have married her anyway because he felt she was meant to be his. Those words were his truth and not said just to make her feel better about their situation. He was a man of his word and she was starting to see that.

Let loose your anger and see the truth each time you touch him.

The words entered her mind and a new flood of emotions swept through her body, as the feeling took hold of her heart and filled her with love. It wasn’t his truth she was experiencing, but her own. She loved him.

Pagan closed her eyes against her new reality. She never thought she would ever find a man to love, let alone a man to love her, but here she was in bed with Tristan, and he was comforting her in her time of need. She sighed and she let her new reality take hold of her senses.

Tristan leaned over her sleeping form. She had finally fallen asleep, and this time Apollo wasn’t in her mind. He brushed a ringlet of hair from her eyes and lovingly caressed her cheek. She was glowing a soft pink hue mixed with a hint of red in her aura. She was letting her feelings for him flow from her freely, albeit in her sleep, but nevertheless, she was sending him her love. He doubted she was ready to admit it to him, and at the moment he didn’t care, what was important was she did love him, and she needed him. He wasn’t going to let her down in her time of need. He planned on staying right by her side, which was his right to be but also where he wanted to be.

He looked over at the pile of tissues haphazardly strewn across the floor. Her crying had come in force, and he had gotten up to get her the tissues earlier in the night. He started to climb out of the bed and his movement caused her to reach for him in her sleep. He kissed her hand and placed it on her pillow and made his way out of the bed. He walked over to her side and picked up the tissues and casually strolled over to the fireplace to throw them in the fire.

As the flames torched the tissues, Bella came trotting into the room. He had forgotten to close the door and the cat must have left the room sometime during the night.

“There you are, you little fur ball. Came back to check on our princess, have you?”

Bella brushed against his leg and gave a soft meow in response. She gracefully strolled to the bed and leaped onto it and made her way to Pagan’s pillow. She curled up in a ball above Pagan’s head.

“If it were me, I would have given her the dog. I’m not fond of cats.”

Tristan turned to see a rather tall man dressed in tan breeches and leather boots, sitting in the large wing chair. He had long sparkling white hair and a well-groomed beard to match. His thoughts went back to the day in the clearing when he fought with Apollo, Artemis, and Ares, and then it dawned on him who the man was.

“Zeus, or do you prefer to be called Maker?”

“Well, it’s about time someone here made the connection. For over a thousand years my identity has remained unknown. You are the first to make the connection and the only one I will allow, for now.” He pointed to Pagan. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Are you happy with my choice for you?”

“Yes, indeed I am, but she isn’t exactly ready to see things our way. She was supposed to be Apollo’s oracle, wasn’t she?” Tristan asked.

“Yes, she was.”

“Why her?”

“We have our reasons, and all will be revealed in due time. But now there are more pressing matters I need you to attend to.” Zeus rose from the chair and approached Tristan. He was surprised to see how tall the deity actually was. He had to be at least seven feet tall and His built was one of a warrior.

“Aradia’s very existence is threatened, not only from within her boundaries, but from across the veil and beyond. Pagan will do her part to save Aradia and now I need you to do yours.”

“Threatened? What kind of threat?” Tristan asked with confusion in his voice.

“Well, for one, the rebels in the south are planning another attack to seize control of the council. I want you to cancel your plans to take Pagan to your winery. She must be kept safe. She is not ready to take her place and Apollo needs more time to train her.”

Tristan came to stand in front of the deity. “Is Pagan their intended target? How do they know about her?”

“Rumors travel fast. Draken will go and put down the rebellion and I want you to go with him.”

“Me? What about Pagan? I can’t leave her here unprotected.”

“Brailey will guard her with his life. And as for the other matter, more evil souls have managed to escape Hades’ realm and are now causing havoc on Earth. They, too, are after Pagan. Ares and Apollo are now trying to destroy them, which is why Apollo is not here with her. Before you leave for the south, teach her how to use her energy to defend herself. And make sure she is capable of using this in her waking state.” He pointed to a bow and a quiver full of arrows by the fireplace. “You have three days before you have to leave.”

Zeus placed his hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “I’m counting on you, Tristan. I chose you to be her mate because I knew you would protect her. She is special to us, keep her alive.” He turned to leave. “Tell no one of my existence. Aradia is not ready for us to take our place here as your gods.” With a wave of His hand, He was gone.

Tristan walked back to the fireplace. He looked down at the bow that wasn’t there a moment before. He squatted in front of it and ran a finger along the dark wood that had the string tightly wound across it. He looked at Pagan sleeping peacefully in the bed then back to the bow.

Her waking state, those were the words Zeus had used. Tristan scratched his chin, as he contemplated the deity’s words. He plucked the string lightly and a slight tinkling sound filled his ears. That was odd, he thought. He picked up the weapon and stretched the string with his right hand, as he held the bow up to aim. It was a little small for a man to use, but just the right size for someone like Pagan. He released the string and again he heard the slight tinkling sound. He raised it higher, as if aiming in the air, and as he pulled back the string, it was even with his ear. He heard a whisper of a voice.

There is no danger here.

He lowered the bow and looked around the room. He and Pagan were alone. Slowly he lifted the bow again, placing the string close to his ear and he gently pulled back the string.

There is no danger here.

The voice was coming from the bow. This bow was a gift from the gods for Pagan to use to defend herself. What the hell was going on? What kind of danger was Pagan in for the gods to be concerned about her safety? And what did this have to do with Aradia?

Suddenly, Tristan was hit with an image of Pagan tied to a ceiling and dangling from her arms. A dark-haired man was lashing a whip across her back. The image flew out of his head just as fast as it had entered his mind. He didn’t possess the ability of receiving premonitions, and that vision had to be a warning.

Keep her alive. Zeus’ voice entered his head. Pagan’s life was at stake and his god was warning him. Tristan was given Pagan by Zeus to keep her safe, he somehow knew she was meant to be his and now his intuition about her had been verified. Pagan was his destiny. His Maker had sent her across the veil for her own protection and now she was in danger again.

Tristan placed the bow back on the floor. She was safe for now, the bow detected no danger, but he knew what he had to do. He was going to start her training in self-defense in the morning and he was going to continue her lessons in using the bow that apparently Apollo was doing in her dreams. He had three days to do it in and he also needed to make sure Brailey stayed by her side while he was gone.

Apprehension gripped his senses, as he realized the gravity of the situation. He could possibly lose her and at the same time his homeland was about to face a threat that could change his whole way of life.

Pagan rolled over and opened her eyes to give him that blinking stare she so endearingly was capable of. He walked over to the bed and climbed in to straddle his thighs over her hips. She placed her hands on his forearms and opened her mouth to speak.

“Shhh, say nothing. I just want to look at you, that’s all.” He leaned over her and whispered upon her lips, “I need you to trust me, Pagan. I’ll do everything within my power to keep you safe from harm.”

Tristan easily brushed his lips over hers and he felt her quiver ever so slightly from the intimacy of the position of their bodies. She sighed into his mouth and opened her lips to allow him to caress her tongue with his loving kiss. She was giving into him, and he felt an overwhelming need to hold her closer to his nakedness. He wanted to feel her warmth, hear her breathe, and to keep her so close that no one dared to take her from him.

Tristan broke the seal of their joined lips and moved to lie beside her. She turned to face him and splayed her hand upon his chest.

“Tristan, what’s wrong? Something has upset you, what is it?” She asked.

He shook his head. “It can wait till morning. Come here, princess, I want to hold you close tonight, nothing more.”

She scooted as close to him as she possibly could and he wrapped his arms around her, surrounding her in a protective embrace. She still felt sadness in her heart, and she was willing to overlook their differences because she truly needed him, and he was willing to allow her this time to grieve over her parents.

He placed his chin on the top of her head, and she closed her eyes, grateful that he was still there with her. She had missed his presence in her bed, and she was awakened by what she thought were two voices, Tristan’s and another she didn’t recognize. But when she opened her eyes, Tristan was the only one in the room. It must have been a dream, she thought, and she closed her eyes to fall back to sleep in Tristan’s arms.

“Up and at’um.”

There was a sudden intrusion of light in the room and Pagan groaned, as she pulled the covers over her head. “Go away, Betha. It’s too early to be so cheery.”

“I agree, what are you doing here, little sister?” Tristan placed his pillow over his head.

Betha walked over to the other window and pulled those drapes back as well.

“Come on, sleepy heads. It’s beautiful outside, and I for one, want to spend the day frolicking in the sun. I thought Pagan and I could have a picnic and we can get her started with the book of rules.” She walked over to the bed and tried to pull the covers out of Pagan’s tight hold she had on them.

“Stop it, Bethhaa.” Pagan fought with all her might to keep her head covered, as she dragged out her friend’s name.

“Oh, come on, Pagan. It’ll be fun. We can go to the waterfall–”

“NO!” Tristan interrupted her.

He threw his pillow across the room with such force that Pagan uncovered her head and she and Betha gave him a puzzled look.

“Not alone, either I or Brailey go with you, and I need to take care of something first, so NO picnic, not this morning.”

“Why?” Both women asked in unison.

“I said no, so leave it at that. I’m pulling rank here on both of you. The two of you stay in this room till I get back.” He rose out of the bed and walked toward the privy.

“Tristan! Cover yourself, please!” Pagan threw her pillow at him. “She’s your sister, for god’s sake!”

Tristan turned around and picked up her pillow and threw it back at her.

“You’ve got to get over this obsession with me being naked around the women in our family.” He turned to go in the privy.

“Our family?” She asked. “We are not married,” she continued.

“Our contract states differently. The only thing missing is the formality of the wedding, like it or not, you and I are family,” he voiced from the privy.

Betha looked at Pagan. “It really is no big deal, Pagan. Besides, as long as he is sporting an erection like that, I am well assured he has not taken advantage of you before he is legally allowed to.”

Pagan opened her mouth in shock at Betha’s casualness about her brother’s current state of arousal. Was it common practice to run around naked in the privacy of their homes, no matter who was around? She rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. She was never going to get used to such lack of modesty, it was one thing for him to be naked around her, even though she didn’t approve of it, but by law she was engaged to him and that did allow him that privilege, but to be so open like that with his sister? She swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“Actually, I like the idea of my betrothed being naked for me to see, even though he wouldn’t be allowed to touch me. I just wish Charles would hurry up and ask Tristan for a contract on me. It would make the Mayday Eve chase so much easier,” Betha said dreamily.

Tristan popped out of the privy, wearing a towel around his waist and holding his toothbrush in his hand.

“What makes you think he wants to marry you?” He asked.

“Brailey said the same thing to me, and I’ll give you the same answer I gave him. Why wouldn’t he?” She placed her hands on her hips.

“Behave yourself, little sister.” He pointed his toothbrush at her. “Don’t do anything to put yourself in an embarrassing position and don’t go seducing him before your rite of passage.” He walked back into the privy.

“Well, how else am I going to keep Delia from getting her claws into him. You know how man hungry she is. When she finally figures out she can’t have you, she’ll make a beeline straight to the 3rd Ruling House and start swaying her hippo hips in Charles’ direction.” Betha started moving her hips in an exaggerated way.

Pagan giggled at Betha’s awkward movements. She hopped out of the bed and noticed the bow and quiver against the fireplace. She walked over to them and knelt on the floor and gently caressed the weapon. It looked familiar, almost like the one Apollo had her use in her dreams. Where did it come from?

“What’s that?” Betha asked.

“It’s my bow, I think.” Pagan picked it up to test the weight of the bow. She held it up and aimed it toward the window.

There is no danger here.

Oh, this definitely had to be her bow, although the one in her dreams never spoke to her.

“I didn’t know you had one of those?” Betha walked to stand beside her. “It’s beautiful, where did you get it?”

“It’s a gift,” Tristan said as he walked out the privy. He picked up his breeches and pulled them on before he approached Betha and Pagan.

Pagan rose to stand, and he removed the bow from her hands to place it back on the floor.

“I’ll explain later. Right now I need for you to get dressed and wait for me here.”

“Why?” She asked.

“Just stay here, Pagan. For once do as I ask without fighting me. You and Betha can go over the book of rules while I’m gone, but it is imperative that you stay here. I need to know where you are at all times for your own safety.” He pulled his tunic over his head.

“My safety? Tristan, what are you not telling me?”

She walked over to him and watched as he pulled on his boots. He stood in front of her and placed his finger under her chin. He had a serious look in his eyes and his stance was one of superiority. He was concerned for her; his emotions were wrapping a blanket of protection around her and she knew he wanted her to stay in her room because he was protecting her and not trying to control her because of some macho ego trip.

“All right, Tristan, we will stay here.”

“Good, now if you two will excuse me, I need to go find Brailey.” He kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “Wear something comfortable, we will be working rather hard today and I don’t want your clothes to be too restricting.”

He left the room and Pagan stared at his back, as he exited through the door.

“What was all that about?” Betha asked.

“I’m not sure, but I think we better do as he says.”

“Great, no picnic,” Betha sighed. “Oh, well, we might as well get started.” She looked around the room. “Your grandmother said that there was a book in here somewhere. She said something about a chest, oh there it is.” She walked over to the corner and opened a trunk that was tucked out of sight. She dug through it and motioned for Pagan to join her. “Have you ever looked in here?”

“No, I didn’t realize there was a chest in the room.” She joined Betha and sat in front of the chest. She rummaged through the contents and pulled out a pad of paper to thumb through it.

“What is all this stuff?” Betha asked.

“I think these are my mother’s belongings.”

Betha leaned over Pagan’s shoulder. “Wow, your mother was an excellent artist. Look at all those pictures.”

Pagan caressed the paper she held in her hand. Her mother had drawn a picture of the pink roses in the garden below and surrounding their bases were sparkly blue pebbles. It was so natural looking and surreal. Her mother had placed her emotions in the drawing and the essence of what she was feeling at the time was imprinted in the fibers of the paper. Sadness and a sense of loss filled Pagan’s heart. Her mother was sad when she drew this, and it had something to do with her father.

Betha reached over and pulled out a rather thick book. “Here it is.” She jumped up and walked over to the bed and ungracefully plopped in the middle of it. “Come on, Pagan, we need to get started. I thought we would go over the rite of passage since we both are going to go through it this year.” She flipped through the book till she found what she was looking for.

Pagan placed the drawing pad back in the chest and closed the lid. She lovingly ran her hand over the etchings of roses on the outside and she noticed the hand carving of her mother’s name in the corner. This was her mother’s personal chest and she wanted to keep it as a keepsake of her mother. It was one of the few things of her mother’s that she had.

“Pagan, come on.”

Pagan rose and walked over to the wardrobe. There were a few new dresses in it. The seamstress must have completed them and had them delivered while she was at Draken’s wedding. She looked over them and pulled out a lavender dress that looked like it would be loose fitting and placed it on the bed. She pulled her nightgown over her head and immediately put on the dress. She walked over to the dresser and retrieved a leather thong and tied it around her waist to cinch in the fabric a little.

“Betha, how come the women here don’t wear underwear?” She asked.

“Too confining, besides we do during our cycle. Are you in need of a pair?”

“I will soon, where can I get them?”

“I’ll tell Tristan to send the money to the seamstress and she’ll have them ready for you in no time.”

“Tristan? Does he have to be involved? It is such a personal matter.”

“He is your betrothed and it is his responsibility to see to your needs.”

“Uggh, I hate having to depend on him for everything.”

“Just be thankful he is willing to spend any amount of money on your clothing. Some men spend as little as possible on their wives and they have to wear what they have till the clothes literally fall apart.”

“I’m not his wife yet.” She crawled into the bed to sit next to Betha. “And I still haven’t given him my answer.”

“Take my advice, Pagan, say yes as soon as possible, otherwise Delia will stake her claim to him. She is already hinting around to the legality of your betrothal contract since he went against tradition and asked you to marry him.”

“Can she do that?” Pagan asked.

Was it possible for another woman to question the laws of the land and take a man from a woman, who was claimed by him? She had come to the realization that she loved Tristan, and it never crossed her mind she could lose him to another woman.

“No, she can’t, but if she plants the bug in the right ear, another man of the council could bring the subject up in the next council meeting and that is what she is banking on.”

“But our contract goes beyond legal matters, our marriage was deemed necessary by your Maker? Surely no man would go against the will of his god?” She asked in dismay.

“Really? Is that why it happened so fast? I didn’t know that, wait till Delia finds that out, she will turn all kinds of shades of red with anger.”

Pagan placed her hand on Betha’s. “Please, don’t say anything. I don’t think anyone is supposed to know. It’s embarrassing enough that I know the truth, but if the people here knew Tristan was forced to marry me, well, it would be too humiliating for me.”

“Oh, I won’t say a word. It’s better Delia thinks it was his choice. She has been chasing him for years,” she laughed.

“Okay, let’s get down to business. What is the rite of passage thing, anyway? What do I have to do, mumble a few words or something?” Pagan asked.

Betha looked at her with surprise in her eyes.

“What, why are you looking at me like that?”

“You really have no idea what we have to do, do you?”

“No, Betha, I don’t. So, tell me.”

Betha held her breath and then spat out her words in a hurry, “We lay on the altar and a council member puts his manhood inside us to break our maidenhead.” She released her breath and waited for Pagan’s response.

“WHAT! WHO! WHY?”

“The what I already told you as well as the who, and the why is because it guarantees no one woman is valued over another for her virginity. It is a celebration of women and our place in society as the ones who continue our race. Without us there would be no children.”

“And you’re okay with this?” She asked in astonishment.

“Sure, it has been done for centuries. It’s no big deal really, well, in a way it is. It does allow us to be sexually active and to marry, but the rite is just a procedure. I mean, he pops in, breaks, then comes out and the next girl goes in.”

Pagan covered her face with her hands and started rocking back and forth. “Oh, Betha, I can’t do that. It goes against all I have been taught. The only man I ever wanted to be inside me was my husband and that wasn’t supposed to happen until my wedding night, that is if I were ever to get married. How can you face that man again afterwards, knowing he was inside you?”

“Oh, that’s not a problem, see, he wears a mask to hide his identity. Only the members of the council know who the chosen one is, and each year a new one is selected. So, you don’t have to worry about facing him.”

“That’s no comfort. A stranger has to take my virginity?”

“Well, yes, he has to, otherwise you and Tristan won’t be allowed to have sex.”

Pagan peeked through her fingers. “What makes you think I want to have sex with Tristan?”

“Well, why not? He surely wants to have sex with you. You saw his erection.”

“Oh, please, don’t remind me.”

“And if I may say so, he is a rather handsome man, but don’t tell him I said that. It’ll go straight to his head.”

Pagan fell back on the bed. She was at a loss for words over this new knowledge she had just acquired. Naked people running around the house, Tristan’s large manhood, and now she was expected to have intercourse with a complete stranger before she had sex with her husband, what kind of a perverted world was this? There was no way she could allow that to happen. The mark Tristan had placed in her womb wouldn’t allow her to let any man near her for such an act. She already was feeling the urge down deep to fight it, as the thought of it entered her mind and most importantly, it went against her own beliefs. She didn’t want to do this.

“Is there any way to get out of doing this?” She asked.

“Only the priestesses are exempt because they take a vow of celibacy in order to serve the Maker. You can’t be a priestess. Tristan has already signed the contract. Besides, if the Maker deemed you to be Tristan’s wife, there is no other option. You have to marry him.”

Betha was right. If she wanted to stay in Aradia, she had to marry Tristan and she was going to have to go through with her rite of passage. But how? The whole idea of a masked man climbing on top of her and thrusting into her made her stomach turn. Why was everything so sexual with these people? The men here had passed laws that gave them power over women and first rights to their bodies. This was insane and she needed to find a way out of having to go through with it.

Apollo, she would ask Apollo. He was her deity and He had said she was His priestess. Surely that disqualified her from participating. In fact, if priestesses were to be celibate, then they were not expected to marry. That was her way out of both the rite and the marriage.

Then, a thought crossed her mind. She finally admitted to herself she loved Tristan. Did she really want to lose him and have him possibly marry another woman? He had told her he wouldn’t seek out another betrothal contract, but he was a man and men had needs, sexual ones, and he would most likely seek sexual release with someone.

Jealousy sparked a flame in her blood, and she began to curse her own words. Like hell would she allow him to have sex with another woman. Damn it, the idea of Tristan lying on top of Delia made her angry. She wouldn’t give the woman the satisfaction of bragging how she took Tristan away from her. The alternative was to go through with the stupid rite and marry Tristan. Life was unfair at the moment. She was being forced to experience too much sexuality before she was ready to and get married because the law of the land deemed it to be done.

She really didn’t want to do this. Marrying Tristan, she could reason out in her mind, but the other was starting to cause her to feel the need to run. Perhaps she could use the priestess excuse not to go through the rite, but marry Tristan because the Maker said she had to?

No, she thought. No one here knew about Apollo except she and Tristan and that right there ruled out the priestess excuse.

“Why, why, why, does all of this have to happen to me?”

“Pagan, there is more. Are you ready to move on?”

“More? What else could there be?”

“The chase on Mayday Eve.”

“A chase? Pray tell, what is that and is sex involved?”

“Yes.”

Pagan sighed as she sat up. “Go on. Explain.”

Betha began rattling on and Pagan found herself tuning her friend’s voice out. She was in sensory overload, and she doubted she could absorb more of Aradian sexual practices. The only thing she could think about was spreading legs to allow a masked man to have his way with her and Delia swaying her hips in front of Tristan.

***

Gomez sat at his desk, strumming his fingers on the hard surface. He eyed the older woman with caution, as he considered her words. Something about her was unusual and kind of menacing, qualities he admired, but not in a woman. She must have her reasons for wanting to be so cooperative with him and he doubted she was trying to protect her village as she claimed.

“And you say you can take me to this so called veil?” He asked.

“Yes, I can,” she replied.

“Why do you think that is where she is?”

“She is there, I know she is. And she is going to make that world a stronger one than this one. She must be stopped. You want her power, and I can lead you to her.”

Gomez slowly rose out of his chair. He walked with caution toward the old woman. She didn’t flinch or even move. She was brave and didn’t fear him at all. Stupid woman, he thought. She must not be from around here. Her wrinkly white skin and steel gray eyes were indicators that she wasn’t Maya, but a stranger who claimed she lived among the Maya people.

“If you are lying to me, old woman, I’ll skin you alive for sending me on a wild goose chase.”

“Do you want the lavender-eyed girl or not?” She asked, rather annoyed.

“You know I do, bitch.” He walked over to the door to block her exit.

“Then stop babbling and let’s go. I’m not getting any younger standing here. But remember what I have told you. The people over there will guard her. You must cross the veil then wait till the right time to take her and bring her back here with haste. That world is different than yours. They take the abduction of their women very seriously and they will fight for her.”

“Cortez!” Gomez yelled as he opened the door. “Gather three men. We are going on a little hike with this old woman.”

The old woman stood straighter and grinned. It was hard for her to bend down like a crooked hag for such a long period of time, but the pain in her back was going to be worth it. This mortal was falling for her disguise and was about to do her bidding. The evil souls she helped to escape from Hades’ realm weren’t able to get to the daughter of the chosen souls like she had hoped. Apollo and Ares had destroyed every single one of them. She needed to try a different angle to get rid of her and this mortal was her best bet.

He was the prime example of how Zeus’ creations have gone rogue. They were all capable of destruction and they were destroying Earth with their greed. Their actions were killing her mother, Gaia, and Rhea had to stop them.

All mankind were to be wiped off the planet and she would help her brother-husband, Cronus, create another race of man more like the golden age of man of long ago. But first, Zeus had to be brought down from power and getting rid of the oracle’s protectress was the first step.

She leaned over again and rubbed her back to give the illusion of the old woman she was pretending to be. She hobbled over to Gomez as she spoke, “Get me a cane, I need the extra help to walk. It is quite a ways we need to go.”

She watched as the warlord ordered his men around, and she took note on how he was being obeyed. The men scattered about trying to do his bidding and she realized this was going to take a while. She gently sat upon a box outside the tent and waited.