Chapter 22

Chapter

Twenty-Two

I 'm escorted out of the bowels of the Estate by guards, ushered forward to follow Lord Hollis and Crixa at the front. I draw in a crisp breath, finally able to taste fresh air again.

The Estate is busy with people like it is during any day, but the darkness makes it look haunted as handmaids walk around focused on their tasks, not even looking my way. It's a relief to still see the small hue of gold coming from the sky, letting me know I have time before the last days of the conjunction.

I am taken to a familiar wing, one I walked almost every day of my life here. I know the statues, the special flowers and candles used in this portion of the Estate. The doors are carved with precision, depicting different scenes from creation.

We stop at the door depicting First Mother's hands coming down from the moon and presenting the very first highest priestess to her congregation, the one who would lead us into the new age. I know this wing well enough to know that Lord Hollis and the guards should not be here, even if Crixa halts them to wait outside.

The moment the doors are opened, the steam from the large bathing pool dampens my skin. The bathhouse is warm, and my old, dirty clothes stick to me, I have the urge to strip them and wade into the water.

Several elder priestesses from the Estate temple are dressed in plain gowns, waiting for me in the shallows. They hold linen, oil, and boar brushes to cleanse me, to scrub away who I was before in the sacred water.

Their expressions are unreadable as they stand perfectly still, waiting for Crixa to instruct them.

"Complete the ceremony, High Priestess," she says.

I turn away to remove my outer gown and step out of my temple slippers to walk into the steaming water. I hold my arms out for balance and close my eyes, letting the hot water seep into my sore feet. I have blisters from pacing in my cell for days in order to avoid the vermin imprisoned with me.

Once the water reaches my calves, I am grabbed by the wrist and pulled to walk fast out to the other elders. The pins in my hair are yanked out by the root and my dark chemise is pulled over my head.

They roughly scrub the bristles of their bathing brushes over me, the rigorousness stinging the thin skin on my collarbones and ribs. Oil is poured over my head and the elders begin scrubbing at my hair, holding out long locks like strands of spider legs all around me.

The wounds and bruises on my hand burn as they wash them. I am spun back toward Crixa for them to finish, holding my forearm across my breasts. A surprisingly strong elder immediately forces the limb out to be scrubbed.

I cup my sex with my palm, desperate for modesty. I can't bear to look anywhere other than the oily suds gathering around my thighs, but one of them swats at my hand for me to let go.

I was not this red and inflamed during this ceremony before, as the elders then were gentle, motherly. Tenderly exfoliating to make me new and ready for my life devoted to the temple. I cried through most of it, even remembering one wiping a tear away and hugging me.

The elders move out of the way, and I am turned toward the deep end of the pool, where a statue of First Mother is depicted in a fountain that spills into the water.

My shoulder is shoved, instructing me to walk toward it. I keep my eyes on the opalescent tiles, warped by my movements through the water and made golden by the candles that line the rim of the giant bath.

I wade out until my feet cannot touch the bottom, until my body is buoyant and I have to duck my head under.

When I first did this ritual, I wept again when I was turned away from the highest and the temple elders. I waited until I was submerged to let myself be overcome with emotion, knowing that when I broke through the surface, I would no longer be a child but a priestess of the order, devoted to First Mother and the preservation of our world.

But now, I feel nothing but the urge to surface and breathe again. To rinse all the oil out of my hair and be taken to a bedchamber so that I can sleep on a proper mattress.

The only thing at the forefront of my mind is knowing that when I walk out into the corridor, Lord Hollis will be there and his beady little eyes will be on me, getting some satisfaction from my discomfort.

I surface, swimming back until my toes touch the little tiles on the bottom then standing. The elders form a line on either side as I emerge from the water, blessing me and saying thanks to First Mother.

Crixa holds a temple robe draped over her forearms, waiting for me to approach.

"High Priestess Ferren, I dress you in the cloth of the temple." She unfolds the dark grey robe and places it over my shoulders. "I drape you in the veil in First Mother's embrace. May she forgive your transgressions as you have renewed your vow to her."

I pull my arms through the robe as the long, sheer veil is placed on top of my wet hair.

All in dark grey. The color of a high priestess.

The soft, silky fabric feels like it's woven with lead, hanging and pulling me downward.

"Blessed High Priestess," Crixa says, the tightness of her smile tense and confusing.

She gestures for the others to leave; the ritual is over. She does not care that I have not confessed my sins, that I have not prayed to First Mother for forgiveness.

She only cares that I have admitted to ascension and that I will keep up that ruse or that I have been truly convinced it happened and I was mistaken.

The door opens moments after the elders leave, and I see High Priestess Constance enter. She greets Crixa before walking over to me and wordlessly placing her palm on my lower abdomen.

"What are you doing?" I squirm a little under the hand that seems to be growing in heat against me.

"Hold still," Crixa commands.

"Her womb is empty." High Priestess Constance retracts.

The simple press felt like a violation. I know I am not pregnant, but a verbal inquiry was never made. Crixa knew how to get her answer, one more trustworthy than I could provide.

"It appears you were intelligent enough about one thing," Crixa says, seeming relieved. When she mentioned my possible future here before, she said she would encourage a pregnancy. When Crixa spoke of it then, I knew the type she was referring to, one sanctioned and matched by her.

My stomach churns when I think of what would happen if I were carrying a child and if 99 and I were not so diligent in preventing that outcome.

I wonder how far she will push to see if I will lash out and hopelessly try to unleash my light even though it has been taken. But there isn't anything this woman can do to make me turn my back on Leema and divert my attention on uncovering the horrors happening here. She can have this. I will generously give her my humanity, my dignity, and whatever else because soon none of this will matter.

"Lord Hollis will oversee your continued service through labor and suffering for your temple."

"Thank you, my highest." I bow my head.

"He will house your gifts until you have proven yourself. You will also be escorted by an armed guard while your duties are being completed. You are to live in high priestess chambers and attend temple under supervision. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my highest priestess. It is truly a blessing to be given a chance at atonement."

She squints her eyes at me. "Yes, but I am disheartened that it took your sister's pregnancy for you to see the error of your ways, my dear. Such extremism."

Any information I have said to Lord Hollis during his questioning has been relayed back to her, and she uses it for manipulation or control. His interrogation on how I was informed about Leema's pregnancy went on at length. I could not tell him Thea used the beacon or lie and say Leema contacted me; it would risk endangering them too. When Lord Hollis pressed further for an answer, I said I received correspondence from a man but the Viathans would not reveal the name.

He was only partially satisfied with that, perhaps thinking it was Leema's father.

"First Mother calls us home when we need it most." I swallow hard.

She forces a smile. "You may go. Lord Hollis will see you to your chambers."

"Blessed evening." I bow and walk past her, slipping on the grey temple shoes that have been placed at the door.

"High Priestess," she calls out, making me turn back. "Leema is happy. Even if she seeks you out, leave her be. She does not need the stress you carry along with you in her condition."

I bow my head again, trying to hold myself together when hearing her say Leema's name, a small crumb of how she is doing, and that she is, in fact, pregnant as Thea said.

When I step out of the bathhouse, there are four guards staring back at me. I hunch my shoulders, trying to sink in my chest in the clingy, wet robe, my slippers making a sloshing sound as I walk.

My first ceremony was as big a celebration as a Cosima wedding day. I took my vows at the same time as three others, and we were fawned over in the bathhouse and taken to a separate room until our hair was dry, pinned back, and anointed with more oils.

Lord Hollis waits at the end of the hall. I take small, wet steps to keep my slippers from falling off my feet. He holds out an elbow, indicating I should take it to prevent a slip, but I would rather do just that than touch him.

The guards fall in line behind me as Lord Hollis takes us to the part of the Estate where the living quarters for elder and high priestess are located. The hall we turn down seems familiar, and when we stop at the wooden door of my chamber, I realize it is the very room I stayed in when the stones were returned.

Lord Hollis smirks at me, running a hand over the door. "It has been refinished, don't worry. You did not damage anything too . . . permanently."

He opens the doors, revealing a perfectly put together room, just as the day I first saw it. When I was brought here after he drained my gifts in the temple, I took my rage out on anything I could grab. Some furniture has been replaced, but the ornate furnishings and bed remain the same.

"I will send for you in the morning, High Priestess. Blessed night," he dismisses, almost pushing me inside.

The heavy doors shut, but I can still hear movement outside, likely the guards making themselves comfortable to keep watch for the night.

I take in the room lit by a large candlestick on every surface. The adjoining doors are shut, a small blessing not having to see the seating area the four of us used when they started to truly feel like family to me.

If I squint my eyes, the glow from the candlelight almost looks the same as when 99's amber light flooded the room the night he let me know he loved me through our tether, not through words but in his own way.

I miss them so much.

I pull the veil from my hair, and it flops to the floor, spraying some droplets onto the tile surrounding it. The wardrobe across the room looks the same, but I know it is full of grey gowns instead of the black ones I was so disappointed to see before. The darkest nightgown inside looks almost black in the dim light, so I pull it over my head. The rest of the grey gowns are still as plain as my lesser priestess ones. They reflect the work I will have to do, my new duties for the Estate, whatever they may be.

I only know they will be labor intensive and awful. I will never see ornate beadwork or expensive trims lining my veils. I am a high priestess now, but my robes will reflect that I am still not good enough for them.

It hurts to lie in the bed that 99 and I shared. I stay on the very edge, pulling the covers up until they hit my nose, and watch as the candles get lower and lower.

I am too tired to take my anger out on this room again, to unleash what has been pent up in me for days in that cell. To thrash around and let go of the violence I feel, going through such a horrible version of the rituals Crixa performed on me.

But as I lie here, I can't help but smile. I have made it back into the Estate. I thought there was a chance I would die in that cell, that their questioning would go on forever or they had gone back on their word and offer for forgiveness. I have been forgiven for sins I am not sorry for committing, and that feeling sends a fluttering in my stomach that I can't ignore.

A dark spot on the desk catches my eye, a large chunk missing in the carved legs that was not noticed. Only from the angle of lying in this bed could you see the last remnants of my rage. They could not erase what I did completely, and I will make sure that when I do have the evidence to bring down the Temple of Divine Mothers, that Crixa knows it was me. That every person in the Estate knows and that she cannot erase what I have done.