Free Remembered by Hazel Hunter Page A

talking about?”
    The Oracle’s face was serene.
    “The sacrifice is dedicated to the Goddess. She is the one who decides. On the shortest night of the year, you will travel underground. When you return, you will be initiated into the great mysteries.”
    “What sacrifice?” Galia snarled, her voice rising. “Speak plainly.”
    “I speak like an Oracle,” she replied. “A sacrifice is required, and he is yours.” The shock of the words reverberated through her, and Galia swayed. “There are things you can hide from me,” the Oracle said, conversationally. “There are things you can fight. There are even times when you can defy me. Trust me when I say that this is not one of them.”
    “Priestess,” Strayke said quietly.
    Galia gasped as if she’d been whipped, and turned to him.
    “I know my duty to Tenebris,” he said. “I go as a willing sacrifice, as the Oracle has asked me to be.”
    “Do you think I would let something so important to you slip away?” the Oracle asked. “Do you think that I did not keep track of the commander? He has had wealth and power, but now he will pay the price. On the shortest night of the year, he will serve you.”
    With horror, Galia looked into Strayke’s face. It was serene and serious.
    She couldn’t even cry. Numbly, she sat back down in front of her mentor. She listened to the Oracle describe the proceedings up until the Longest Day. And all through the meeting, Strayke stood at their sides.
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    • • • • •
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    T he next few days sped by. The bread for the outer city was a sensation. Messages of thanks and pledges of service poured in. As much as that warmed Galia, her heart was in turmoil. Now that Strayke was in the palace, she heard his name everywhere. He was a fierce warrior who had won gold and glory across far lands. He was a faithful commander to the city, and his rise over the past five years had been nothing short of meteoric. She heard talk of him, but never saw him. There were whispers that he was being prepared for the Longest Day.
    Though Galia had tried to keep her doubts to herself, the Oracle had either seen it or divined it.
    “You are still afraid,” the Oracle observed as they sat in her sun room. “Why?”
    Galia looked at the Oracle, tired of the games. She wondered if she should simply hold her tongue, but she didn’t have the energy even for that.
    “I am torn,” she said finally. “And it is your doing.”
    “It is,” the Oracle agreed, as though it was the first time Galia had made sense. “The Goddess calls you. I can sense it. We all can. She will call forth the greatness in you.”
    “And if I don’t want to heed her call?” asked Galia.
    The Oracle narrowed her glance. “You speak blasphemy.”
    “Do I?” Galia said, her own frankness surprising her.
    Weariness and worry had worn her filters thin. But something in the Oracle’s face said Galia had stumbled on something. Then it occurred to her.
    “She can be denied then,” Galia said, musing on the observation.
    For just a moment, it looked like the Oracle was going to slap her.
    “You are a foolish child,” the Oracle proclaimed coldly. “Be grateful I don’t have you whipped raw, and let you go to the unknown like an unruly slave.”
    “That’s what I am, though.”
    “Not in front of the Goddess.” She stared out the window, and waved her hand in Galia’s direction. “Go.”
    When Galia left, her mind buzzed with scattered thoughts. But there was one idea among them to which she repeatedly returned: it was possible to defy the Goddess.

Chapter 11
    T he morning of the Longest Day dawned bright and hot. The palace’s doors had been thrown open so that all the citizens of Tenebris, great and small could wander through. The air was rich with the smell of exotic incense and roasting meat. Galia, who was fasting, felt starved, but that was good. It would keep her sharp in the hours to come.
    Mina had been unable to sneak away the night before, but