10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

T he main witch temple was perched atop a small hill. Dozens of smaller stone buildings encircled it, replicating outwards in clusters, each one interlinked by cobblestone paths. The grounds were alive with wildflowers, throwing bright splashes of burnished red and bright pink and yellow. Even the trees with their gnarled limbs boasted thick foliage and little white flowers. A tall statue of Dianera, carved of a polished white stone, gleamed at the heart of it all. Two cloaked witches knelt before her, placing their offerings as ribbons of light danced around them.

And enclosing it all, not a single wall. From the safety of the ancient forest, Elaine felt the ward. Layers upon layers of deep magic, strong enough to repel any attack or unwanted intrusion. A single golden archway rose at the edge of the compound, and though she still sensed the ward there, it felt thinner. A gateway, she deduced. Which explained the four witches guarding it. Their white hoods were drawn down, but she felt their eyes constantly scanning the forest.

Beyond the wards and the finely tended grounds, Elaine saw few witches. It was morning, so she expected more to be at the statue with offerings. Beyond the six she spied thus far, she glimpsed no others. It was quiet and not even the morning songs she'd heard from the few Dianeran temples she'd passed in her travels were heard.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Sabra drawled. "You're harder to read than Aya and she's a prickly one."

"Aya could say the same about you," she quipped. "Always says you're the mysterious one."

A little huff of laughter rumbled from Sabra.

She stepped back from the tree line, as if might afford her a little more shelter from the watchful guards. Sabra leaned against a nearby tree, close enough to get them the hell out of there if needed. Positioned perfectly to always keep one eye on the temple and one on her.

"I have to admit, I did expect strong wards but this—" She flicked a hand to the temple. "Is overkill. Hell, the temple I was born in which was situated in the capital wasn't this fortified. Was this before or after Aya's incident with Honoria's sister?"

"After."

She's known Aya scared the witches, but she'd never seen such a response so deeply rooted in fear. Honoria really hadn't desired any chance Aya might get into the temple.

Elaine snorted. "Fair enough." The ghost of a smile fell away as she eyed the temple once more. "So much for hoping there would be a way to sneak in…"

"Aya's going to kill me."

"What?"

Sabra pushed off the tree. "You're going into the temple. Hence my head on a platter."

"It's not like we're going to break in. Besides, that temple doesn't exactly look like one teeming with the numbers it once did. Hell, everything I see thus far seems more to keep Aya out more than anything else." Sabra opened her mouth, but Elaine cut her an amused look. "What could possibly go wrong?"

Sabra pressed her palm to her face, groaning softly.

"I'm actually going to be killed by my best friend. Slowly, probably even lose my head in the process! She's good at that, you know?"

Elaine tugged off her cloak and held it out to Sabra. "I'll make sure she won't kill you."

"Can't do that if you're dead," Sabra replied waspishly.

"I'll haunt her then! I can be very annoying and persuasive when I want to be."

Sabra's gaze narrowed. "Somehow, that does not surprise me."

Wearing a sleeveless dress, her marks were on full display, leaving no doubt as to who she was. Sabra stared at her, worry knitting her brow. Unspoken words pulsed between them. Elaine stepped forward before she could second guess herself and yanked Sabra in for a hug. Sabra stiffened for a moment before awkwardly returning in, the cloak squished between them.

"Try not to get yourself killed."

Elaine pulled away with a smile and snapped her fingers. Ice and fire wove through her fingers. "Because Aya would murder you and you'd very much like to live."

"There are many things I would still like to do and you being dead, thus causing me to become dead, disrupts all of those plans."

"Aww, and I thought you were simply stating you didn't want me to die because you cared."

"Well, that too, of course."

Before she could back out, Elaine strode from the trees. She barely made it a few steps before the witches at the gate locked on her. No power sparked in their hands, but the posture was clear enough. Was it fear that kept them from summoning the light to their hands? Or, as the little voice whispered in the back of her mind, was she expected?

She didn't know what was worse.

"Hello!" She managed an awkward wave but quickly dropped it when none of them spoke or moved a muscle.

She stopped a few feet away, carefully deliberating her words. If things got dangerous, she knew Sabra would rush in, get her out. But she was close enough that she would still have to defend herself and she didn't want to leave any more bodies around. There had been quite enough death for her taste.

"I was hoping to speak to the new Grand Matron."

There was an agonizing stretch of silence where Elaine contemplated the many ways she might just have to fight her way out of this—few of which resulted in minimal deaths. One of the guards half-turned back to the temple, paused, then glanced back. Slender hands pushed the hood down, revealing a sharp featured face, pale skin, and narrow eyes. Glossy black hair, braided intricately down her back, no part of her out of place.

"Grand Matron Tarla will be with you shortly."

It felt like an eternity before a witch emerged from one of the nearby buildings and approached the gates. At a distance, Elaine glimpsed snow-white hair braided neatly atop her head, with tiny gems catching the sunlight. She took in the dark brown skin and glowing amber eyes as the Grand Matron approached. She was ethereal, moving with the grace of a goddess. Even her dress was of the finest gold silk, the skirt embroidered with detailed flowers and delicate matching slippers peeked out as she swept forward.

Wariness pinched her eyes, the gaze taking in every inch of Elaine. It flicked beyond her, just for a second, and she suspected the matron sensed Sabra. Perhaps realizing Aya wasn't close, a little of the tension bled from her shoulders. Tarla stopped just behind the guards and waved her hands. They wordlessly moved aside, heads bowed.

"Welcome. We've been expecting you."

Elaine smiled. "You were?"

"Given current events, I suspected it was only a matter of time before the council employed your family, and in turn, sent you here." Tarla studied her from head to toe, then beckoned Elaine forward. "We should talk."

She took a step toward the gates and froze. Flashes of the last time she'd been in a temple burst through her mind. The small room, chains stained with blood; her old Grand Matron standing over her; the collar around her neck, the cold metal biting into her skin.

"Miss Tormelin?" Tarla's voice shattered the memory.

She blinked, clearing the tattered remnants away. The guards and the matron stared at her, and she wondered how long she'd stood there, lost to the past and pain and memories. Her heart still thundered away, as if trying to claw its way from her chest. Ash filled her mouth. She could do this. She had to do this, and she imagined Aya with her, one hand on the small of her back. A quiet smile, a few whispered words.

You are not afraid.

You are not alone.

I am with you.

She clung to them as she forced herself forward, one foot after the other. Then she was in, the air thick with Dianeran magic. A steady presence bearing down on her. The mark of the goddess on her skin, calming a little of the nerves rattling away in her mind. She pushed on, falling quietly into step beside the Grand Matron.

A lump remained lodged in her throat as they moved through the compound. The witches by the statue looked up as they passed, their eyes never leaving her. Like a deer watching a predator, ready to flee at a moment's notice. It was a strange feeling, one she wasn't entirely accustomed to—to be feared, rather than being afraid.

With a deep exhale, she passed through the towering doors and into the main chamber, sparsely furnished with another statue standing atop a dais at the end of the room. Fragrant incense burned in suspended plates along the edges of the room. Witchlights hovered overhead, casting a warm glow across the room.

They passed through a small door off to the side and navigated a winding hallway until they came into a private garden. Dianera's floral symbol was painted along the walls and though there were no more statues, she spied a small altar at the far end. Small candles burned among piles of melted wax. Blooming ivy stretched around the base of the altar and stretched out along the wall, spilling over the other side.

"We can speak freely here. This garden is for my own prayer and communion with Dianera," said Tarla as she gestured to two stone benches by the wall. "Are you thirsty? Hungry? I can have something brought if you'd like."

Her stomach cramped at the idea of food. She barely trusted herself to speak, let alone drink or eat anything. She shook her head and took a seat, grateful to be off her feet. Being in the temple left her body itching to move, to get as far away as she could. Run back to the forest and have Sabra return her to the house. To Aya, where it was safe, and she didn't have flashes of the hellscape she escaped from.

Elaine eyed the matron with caution, eyes narrowed. "Why didn't you tell the council the temple had selected a new Grand Matron?"

"Because like you, I suspect, I don't trust them within an inch of my life, let alone my witches." Tarla leaned back on the bench and tipped her face to the sun. "Not that I trust many others."

"You mean Aya."

"As her lover, even you must admit she has a well-earned reputation, yes?"

Elaine's jaw tightened, a biting remark on her lips. She swallowed it away, reminding herself that Aya intentionally forged a dangerous reputation. A way of keeping the world at arm's length, insuring folks thought twice about hurting her and those she loved. Not that it always worked.

She picked her words carefully before she spoke again. "Aya won't harm this temple or anyone within it."

Tarla's eyes flickered open, one brow lifted. "You're willing to make such promises?"

"Unless I'm harmed, the temple is safe. Marisol and Honoria are dead." Elaine slanted her an arched look. "It would be made far easier for us if we had access to Honoria's office—er, I mean, your office."

Tarla was silent for a moment, staring at her with a gaze she swore was peeling back her defenses. It wasn't in the skill set for a Dianeran witch to be able to read minds. At least, it shouldn't be.

"And why should I help you?"

"Because we're trying to fix the mess the last Grand Matron made. The barrier is weakening, and the recent demon attack is probably not the end of things." Elaine shifted forward on the bench and stared out across the garden. "You have no reason to trust me, or I you, and perhaps you hold the same—"

"Watch your next words carefully," Tarla growled reproachfully.

Elaine's gaze flicked up. "A show of trust then. The council isn't entirely convinced you're not following in your predecessors' footsteps. Your silence hasn't exactly dispelled that concern."

"We've kept our distance because I am trying to keep my people safe. Tensions are high and it's not just Aya Sinclair I fear. Our numbers are low—you can see that—and we're not exactly at our strongest now."

The stony mask slipped away from Tarla's face. Her shoulders slumped. Suddenly, she didn't appear like the ethereal being she'd met only moments before. This was someone weary, already weighed down by the responsibility thrust upon her. Perhaps there had been others stronger than her, who might've been the next matron, but all the recent deaths likely thrust her into the role. One she might not have even wanted.

This wasn't the woman she'd expected to meet.

Elaine paused, reflecting on the words when she froze, catching on what Tarla had just said. "You're afraid of the council."

"Honoria's diaries indicated she was working with another member. She never named them, before you ask. Which means I am short on allies and trying to fix the mess in the sky." Tarla blew out a shaky breath. "I know what happens if the barrier falls and I suspect you do too."

"The desperation gave me away?"

"A little."

Elaine smiled a little, wishing she could hide her feelings like Aya did. No one seemed to be able to read her when she didn't want them to.

"We could share knowledge, an alliance of sort."

"With me?"

Elaine shrugged. "Why not? Isn't that what you expected when I came here?"

"I knew you'd come but I didn't know what you'd say. I'd only heard about you from Honoria, and you can imagine she wasn't exactly glowing in your description."

Elaine sat up straight and slapped a hand to her chest. "You don't say! I thought I'd made a rather lovely impression on her. You're telling me that when I essentially told her to go fuck herself and that I'd never join a temple didn't impress her?"

A ghost of a smile pulled at Tarla's lips. "Afraid not but if it's any consolation, I wasn't exactly her second or even tenth choice to be her replacement. I imagine she'd be turning over in her grave—well, she would but you didn't exactly leave anything left to bury."

Warmth touched Elaine's cheeks. She'd killed before, and always in self-defense, but she couldn't deny there had been a moment of pure anger when she'd burned Honoria to dust. She certainly wasn't losing any sleep over it.

She rubbed the back of her neck. "I'd say sorry but we both know that would be a lie." She dropped her hand back to the bench and cast the matron a curious look. "So, don't suppose you learned much about Honoria's plans?"

Tarla inclined her head. "I haven't agreed to ally my temple with you. What guarantees Aya won't come after us?"

Saying that Aya wasn't going to hurt another witch unless those she loved were threatened or hurt wasn't going to be enough. Elaine had been around enough witches like Tarla—proud and fiercely protective—to know there would only be one thing to satisfy. The last thing she ever expected to do, knowing full well the consequences if she stepped wrong. But what choice did she have? They needed to get their hands on Honoria's books and into her office.

She looked to the garden, hoping it might afford a little comfort as she gathered the reluctant words to her lips. "What if I swore it on Dianera? I did claim her powers, so I am bound to her as much as you are."

"You would swear a blood oath?"

"Only if you swore the same. That you bear no harm—nor will dare to hurt myself or Aya or any of my family." Elaine rose from the bench and faced Tarla. "I'd say that is fair. After all, there is no real guarantee you aren't working on Honoria's ambitions. This way, if you are, you can't act against us."

"But the oath would only bind you—not Aya."

Elaine stared on, unflinching, unyielding. "And if I ask it of Aya, she won't harm a single witch."

"You can promise that?"

"Consider it an act of trust. Given your current circumstances, do you have a better option?" Elaine held out her hand. "So, what do you say?"