The Prince's Concubine

5: The West Road

The carriage was less comfortable than it looked. Bilhah shifted her weight again, but the rumbling from the wheels still shook her bones. She'd never been in a carriage before. She'd been so excited to climb inside and sit on the richly upholstered bench. Mother Thaleen took the forward facing seat, leaving Bilhah to travel backwards, but she hadn't minded. This carriage would take her to him, conveying her into her future, under the blessed covering of the Goddess. She had been so happy, heart singing from the news of her placement and exhausted from the rush of packing, praying and making her farewells. But now, on the third day of dust and discomfort, the journey seemed less romantic.

The motion was beginning to make her feel sick. Bilhah didn't want to admit the other reason for her nausea. Days of silence had left her too much time to contemplate her situation. Devorah was right, she had no idea what the Prince was really like. Yet here she was being carried three hundred miles west, to be given to a man she'd read barely three hundred words about. What would he really be like? What sort of life was she travelling towards? Was this doubt just a test of her faith? She decided to pray harder that the Goddess would grant her peace to accept whatever fate lay ahead of her.

Bilhah looked across at the snoozing Holy Mother with envy. She was returning home from her journey, heading back towards the safety of familiar places and welcoming sisters. Bilhah was leaving every friend she ever had. Rolling away from every place she'd ever known. Away from her mother, who had wept last Festival when she realised her daughter would be eligible for placement before they met again. She'd brought Bilhah a new coat for the winter. Bilhah had cradled the warm wool and reassured her mother she wouldn't be placed for another year at least. She hadn't meant to lie, but recent events had turned her words into falsehood. The Festival of Renewal was only two weeks away. How would her mother feel when she attended the service and found Bilhah already sold? And what would the Festival bring for her? She would be in Thaleen by then, already bedded by her Prince and locked away in his concubine hall. Would she even be allowed into temple to celebrate the start of the Goddess' season?

She wished she'd kept the coat. Just to have something from her mother. She wouldn't need it in Thaleen, the winters weren't harsh there. She'd given it to Adah, who felt the cold terribly. Adah's worse fear was being placed with a Lord in the East mountains, where the snow lies on the ground for most of the year. She'd probably never see Adah again. Or Devorah, or Chana. She'd never know if her sister found a good husband, or if her brother ever managed to make a sword good enough to sell. She'd never set foot on Pellian soil again.

Tears began to form in her eyes, welling up and quietly spilling down her cheeks. At least the Holy Mother was still snoring. She mustn't be caught crying. Mother had made it very clear she was expected to behave perfectly, at least until the Prince had accepted her. She mustn't bring any shame to the Goddess Houses by crying, showing any displeasure or being difficult. It would be a dishonour to the Goddess herself if she permitted her own selfish emotions to cloud the holy expression of Her love. She was simply a vessel to deliver it. Any man blessed with coin from the Worker, or power from the Warrior was entitled to receive it. The Prince had both. A well trained concubine was the purest worldly form of the Goddess's love, and a man of Royal blood should have the purest of all concubines. She must be flawless.

So why had she tainted herself that night, at her placement prayers? Guilt stabbed her gut. She should not have let Devorah persuade her. Chana should have stopped her. Maybe the Goddess was offended, maybe the Prince would know she was impure and refuse her.

Or maybe Devorah was right and there was nothing wrong with asking for it. It felt wrong, but she'd done it anyway. Like signing for the Prince in the first place. Like keeping his picture under her pillow. And the Goddess had blessed her despite that – no, because of it. Perhaps Devorah was right after all, perhaps she was too devout and would bore the Prince more readily than satisfy him. If the Goddess granted her third prayer it would make her work easier, wouldn't it? Surely enjoying being in his bed would help her perform her role. If only Devorah hadn't used such lewd words, and in the temple too. But that was Devorah. Unstoppable and untameable.