Midnight Rose - Emma Hamm Page 0,3

The priestesses turned as one and started down the outcropping.

Rhea moved with them. She needed to find a few minutes to herself. It was okay if the other priestesses hated her. And maybe, just maybe, she would be looked over by the Dread. She clearly wasn’t as powerful as the rest of them. If she didn’t make herself extremely pretty, which she didn’t think was possible anyway, then the Dread wouldn’t want her.

Right?

“Rhea.” The High Priestess’s voice snapped like a whip. “You stay here.”

Damn. She had thought she could get away without the High Priestess scolding her.

But what was she being scolded for this time? Being in the crowd? Apparently she had needed to be standing with the other priestesses considering she was now part of the Choosing.

She headed back to stand in her rightful place. There, she clasped her hands demurely in front of her. Maybe if the High Priestess saw she wasn’t gloating over this opportunity, she could...

Rhea didn’t even finish the thought. She was just an apprentice who had no idea what she was doing. She hadn’t even been exposed to knowledge about the Dread other than rumors.

The other priestesses left the room, although she noticed Laurel glanced over her shoulder. The white mask gleamed in the warm light, then disappeared beyond the door.

“You must have questions,” the High Priestess said, her voice a rasping whisper in the otherwise silent room.

Rhea flicked her gaze toward the leader of the alchemists lurking in the shadows. She didn’t like the look of the man. His robe glistened in the torchlight as though it was covered in slime.

The High Priestess shifted until she blocked the leader from Rhea’s view. “Apprentice.”

Rhea snapped her attention back to the woman who had raised her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Questions?”

Her words blurted out of her mouth before she could think them through. “I’m not ready to take one of the Dread. There are many more priestesses to choose from.”

Rhea wanted to slap herself. How stupid was she? The High Priestess had already decided. Rhea was nobody. She had no right to question the High Priestess’s judgment.

Yet, she saw the older woman’s eyes wrinkle beneath her golden mask. “There are many others. So many more priestesses who would kill to be in your place. I highly suggest you sleep with one eye open.” The laughter in her voice was evident.

All the tension in Rhea’s back loosened. Her shoulders dipped forward, curving with emotion. “Then why did you choose me?”

The High Priestess looked at the leader of the alchemists, who took a step forward. He was so close Rhea could see the details of his form.

The red robe pooled down his body, rippling with an unearthly sheen. The scars all over his body were impressive. Many years of magic had gone into creating such a horrifying visage. But it was his eyes that made her shiver. Not just sunken eyes, but drained of any fluid.

At some point in his life, this alchemist had sacrificed his eyes for some great magic. She hoped it was worth it.

He clicked his tongue, forcing her attention to his words and not his appearance. “This Choosing is different from any other in many years.”

She’d gotten that much. Considering the Dread were the ones choosing their priestess and not the other way around.

Rhea tried to keep her mouth shut so hard her teeth creaked under the pressure. She would not retort some smart ass comment to the leader of the Alchemists. He’d kill her just as soon as keep her as a Chosen.

The High Priestess watched her with a shrewd gaze. When Rhea said nothing else, she nodded firmly and locked eyes with the leader of the alchemists. “She’s ready. Show her.”

Show her? What could they possibly have to show her?

The alchemist reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny red gemstone. She’d seen a ruby before, and this wasn’t that. No facets reflected light on the edges. Instead, this was as smooth as a river rock. Something deep inside the gem pulsed. A light or perhaps pure magic unlike anything she’d seen before. And Rhea had seen much in the home of the priestesses.

“What is that?” she asked, her eyes locked on the stone. Her fingers itched to touch it. She wanted to draw it against her chest, press it against her heart and keep it safe.

Why? What was it about the stone that made her desire to hold it so badly?

The alchemist pinched it between his fingers and held it up. Torch