Being anointed had brought about a multitude of changes in my life.  The smallest of those, but perhaps the most jarring, was the scar on my chest.  It was under the left breast, just under where the ribcage ended.  They used my last rib to guide the knife, aiming downwards towards my abdomen so as to avoid the heart.  The priests had held me down, because even with a noblewoman’s composure they expected some sort of reaction when the knife went in.

I honestly didn’t remember much of it.  It felt like I was in a trance through the entire ceremony.  Like the reality of what was happening hadn’t sunk in yet and I was merely watching myself walk towards the altar.  

To be fair, I hadn’t been given much time to realize what was happening.  My father had told me we were going to a party.  A very important party with a lot of distinguished guests, so I had assumed he wanted me to do what I did best.  Look pretty.  Make connections.  Be likable.

Instead, we arrived at the capital and I was introduced to the queen and then less than an hour later I was dressed up as a sacrifice and being led to the knife.  The crown wanted someone loyal and my family was loyal.  They wanted someone obedient and well… turns out that a lack of ambition is very easily mistaken for obedience.  When you don’t have strong opinions of your own it’s a simple matter to go along with whatever your family wants, after all.

My father wanted more than just our family name as our sole source of prestige.  I was offered up for that goal.  It was my own fault for not seeing it coming.  I’d spent so long contemplating the motivations of others but had never turned that insight inward to my own household.

At least I didn’t have to see my father again.  That was another change brought about by being anointed.  I lived in the capital city now.  The temple was unused, as they’d been unsuccessful in ascending a new god, so I had it essentially to myself.  I had lavish quarters that had been built specifically for the Beloved upon the temple’s construction.  Servants and priests willing to make sure I was comfortable.  And the royal palace was within eyeshot of the temple so I could go mingle with the other nobility whenever I pleased.

My father called upon me, of course.  Directly after the ceremony I was too delirious to notice his presence, however, and once I recovered I made it clear I had no desire to speak with him.  The queen sometimes suggested that we reconcile, but so far I’d held firm to my conviction.

He’d ruined my life, after all.

My siblings came to visit when they happened to be in the capital.  That wasn’t often and our conversations were tense.  I didn’t know if they’d been in on it.  I had trouble trusting them.

My relationship with my family wasn’t all that my new role had destroyed.  Suddenly, all the nobility I was friendly with came to me with ulterior motives.  Before they’d made certain we were on good terms because that was all that they needed from us.  The only people that were at odds with our household were the nobles that you didn’t want to associate with.  There was no other real advantage we offered, other than a marker of decency.

Now, they saw me as a way to ingratiate themselves with the queen - or better - gain some advantage over the gods themselves.  If I wanted it, my calendar wouldn’t have a scrap of free time in it.  I could barely keep up with the invitations I received.

At least I had Ylone.  The only constant in my life.  She was my personal maid and had followed me from back home, serving me in the capital and accompanying me wherever I went throughout the kingdom.  The one point of stability I still had left.

“I’d like to be released from your service,” Ylone announced, the very day after we’d returned to the capital.

She’d clearly been working up the nerve for some time and had finally committed to the decision.  She’d served us tea and the queen had noticed how her hands shook and asked what the matter was.  That was the push Ylone needed.  She came out and said it, nevermind that she was in the presence of the queen herself.

Queen Misht, of course, seemed to think that was quite amusing.  She wore her thin smile that she reserved for when she was secretly laughing inside.

“This is… sudden,” I ventured.

“I want to go home,” Ylone blurted.  “I want to get married someday.”

“Of course,” I said, forcing myself to smile.  “I understand.”

It wasn’t my most convincing smile.  It didn’t need to be.  Ylone was good-natured and sadly, that made her a little gullible.

“I could order her to remain with you,” Queen Misht whispered, leaning close to me on the pretext of taking a cookie from the tray.

“No thank you,” I whispered back, my fake smile still plastered on my face.  “I wouldn’t be so bold as to force someone into a position they didn’t want.”

The queen’s eyes narrowed.

“How generous.”

At least being the Gods’ Beloved meant I could ignore the queen from time to time.  I focused instead of thanking Ylone for her long years of service and telling her I would arrange transport back home for her.  I maintained my cheerful facade so that she wouldn’t be able to tell I was seething with jealousy inside.

Queen Misht certainly didn’t miss it, though.

“You could visit home, you know,” she suggested, once my now former maid had made her exit.  “But wait, that would require talking to your father!”

“I’m glad to see this amuses you,” I snapped.

Misht and I were long past the point I bothered pretending.  Waking up with a knife wound and being fed a whole lot of drugs to dull the pain tends to leave one unintentionally honest.  I’d said… some things… to the queen.

“I have to take my entertainment where I can.  But now you’re going to be left in that dreary temple with only the priests to serve you.”

“Don’t remind me,” I said with a grimace.

“You could move into the royal palace.  I’ll give you the apartments across from my own.”

She clapped her hands together in glee.  She was having way too much fun with this.

“Wouldn’t that be convenient?  We could stay up late together.  Get drunk on wine.  Scandalize my butler.”

“Very tempting, but I’m not willing to commit political suicide just yet.  The priesthood would never give me a moment’s peace if we didn’t at least maintain the facade of my neutrality.”

“Yes.  There is that.”  

She sobered quickly and I braced myself.  This wasn’t a mere social call.  It never was.  The queen was here for business.

“I truly regret sending you out almost as soon as you’ve returned,” she sighed, “but we have a problem in Manere.”

Their god was sinking any ship that entered the harbor, she said.  And I had to go find out why.