She was chained to a pole at the center of the cave, her body limp, her head bowed. Around her, the royal family and the high priest stood in a semicircle, their faces cold and impassive. Others brought offerings—trinkets, animals, even small vials of blood—but Iris was the main sacrifice. The centerpiece of this grotesque feast.
Zephyros felt bile rise in his throat. What is this, a dinner table? He had avoided the other sacrifices, turning a blind eye to the horrors, but now it was personal. Now it was Iris.
His father noticed him first. "Ah, boy," King Valen said, his voice dripping with false warmth. "You're right on time for your sister's sacrifice."
