“Lucia, I’m taking you to Skathi!”

“She will… not help.”

“She will! The Skathians fight him every five hundred years….”

Thunder boomed once more, the sound seeming to soothe the goddess. “Where my followers have sacrificed to become expert markswomen, you would simply be gifted with my hunting skills. An unequaled archer, better than them all. Why do you think you’re worthy of that? When they have trained so hard? When they are pure of heart—and body?”

The Skathians lived by an ascetic code—and despised men. I understand why now.

“They are not tainted as you are,” Skathi continued. “As you willingly offered yourself up to be.”

Dim memories arose of her last nine days as prisoner of Crom Cruach—the Broken Bloody One, a monster with the face of an angel. Had that animal bitten her? She refused to look down at her body, but she suspected he’d gnawed at her skin once she’d blacked out. And that she’d fought him before she’d mindlessly jumped from his lair—chunks of scaly flesh were still embedded beneath her claws.

Lucia ruthlessly stamped out those visions of her captivity. She would never let herself remember them, especially not that last night.

What happened in the dark. Blood streaming down my thighs.

“I didn’t know…. I never knew.” Regret washed over her. “I’ll s-sacrifice anything, Skathi.”

“Gifts from gods always come with a price. Are you ready to pay mine?”

Lucia nodded weakly. “I can become… p-pure hearted. And I’ll shun men.” She must know I’ll never be fooled again.

“Virgin from this day forward?” After a long moment, Skathi said, “You escaped the Broken Bloody One this time—courage, or cowardice, making you leap—yet Cruach will come for you in the next Accession if he escapes his jail.”