Chapter 23

Chapter

Twenty-Three

I place the last tight pin in my hair when my door is pounded on forcefully. It's likely one of the guards letting me know it's time to pay Lord Hollis a visit and have my powers taken from me again. I can't even sense them coming back yet, but I know he will greedily suck any drop that has made its way home.

I brush my hands down the simple grey dress and short veil I have chosen. Labor is to be my punishment, so I can't be tripping over a gown all day.

To my surprise, among the guards outside my door, Guardsmen Ben is at the front.

"Blessed morning," I say.

"Blessed morning. Lord Hollis is waiting." Ben looks miserable to see me.

I nod and walk beside him and out of this wing of the Estate, the other guards close behind.

"Are you well?" I stop myself from biting my nails, admittedly nervous to see him, knowing he helped Thea sneak into the beacon room.

"I am." His answer is stiff.

I have to walk faster than comfortable to keep his pace.

"Is Thea well?" I ask in a hushed tone.

"You should not be asking after High Priestess Thea. It could jeopardize her," he scolds, reminding me how serious he always is.

He cares for Thea and always has. Even if neither of them approves of my choices, she is my oldest friend, and the last thing I want is for her to be punished if someone found out she used the beacon. I can see he does not want that either, and I can't blame his hostility at that fact.

But it doesn't stop me from purposely slowing my pace. He can continue to run through the Estate without me if he likes.

When we get to Lord Hollis's door, Ben pushes it open for me to step inside the enormous chambers.

"Ah, High Priestess Ferren, blessed morning," Lord Hollis greets, walking in from his sitting room. The entry of his chambers is a large dining area, with an even larger fireplace mantel. Gold-leafed doors frame the room in the back, where his private quarters are, but thankfully, the table is set for breakfast, so Mother willing, we will stay in here.

The edges of the room house ornate furniture with bottles of drink and servers waiting to be called on. Ben and the other guards inside the chamber take their places by the exit, so still and blank-faced, like they are part of the decor.

"Sit! Sit, sit, sit, sit," Lord Hollis hisses.

"Blessed morning." I bow my head and slowly round the table toward the place settings for two. He expects me to eat with him, but I can barely stand to be in the same room.

"Grey does not suit you. Makes your complexion look . . . nauseated."

"Perhaps it is the company."

The back of his hand strikes across my face, making my neck kink the other direction from the force.

I hold my cheek, hot and stinging.

He grabs at my chin, squeezing my face to look at him. "There's a pretty flush. Now sit." He shoves me down forcefully into the seat.

The silverware clatters together as I adjust myself to fully sit in the tapestry-upholstered chair.

Lord Hollis seats himself at the head of the table with the grace of a man pretending to be someone important, then holds out a palm.

I stare at it, letting him wait for a moment, a crumb of control I intend to savor.

He takes my fingertips, inspecting the long scabs that have formed and the rosy edges of the older cuts now healing. The softer part of my hand and wrist are bruised in blotchy shades of berry where his aim strayed.

"These will heal. Show repentance to me and they will be the last." His thumb drags over my knuckles, and the empty sensation in my stomach begins as he once again neutralizes my divinity.

"Are you hungry?" he asks.

I nod.

The long table has enough food for at least twenty people, maybe more. There is fruit, bread, meats, cheeses of all kinds, and breakfast pastries shaped into a tall tower. The decorations woven through the glassware are as intricate as the type of dishes. It would not be unlike Lord Hollis to request such things to flaunt his position in the Estate, even down to the cooks and servers. Showing he can order anything and in any amount and only the emperor can stop him.

"Was the food to your liking?" he asks.

It's a strangely worded question until I realize he does not mean the items in front of me, but the ones sent down to my cold cell. I knew he was responsible for the overflowing pewter plates, sent so often I never grew hungry between them.

"Yes."

"Good . . . and what is your favorite?" His voice is too enthusiastic.

"My favorite?"

"To eat." He waves a hand at the spread.

I look down the long row of food, all of it decadent and perfectly prepared.

There is a lone plate of sugar bread with beautifully etched serving tongs shoved into the heap.

"Sugar bread," I reply, my mouth instantly watering, having not had it since leaving Cosima.

"Sugar bread!" He laughs unnervingly and with a wave of his hand, a server puts the tray in front of me, moving a different, more intricate type of pastry out of the way.

I carefully extract the tongs from the mound and plop two round pieces on my plate, smelling the sugar and hint of cinnamon. I want to smile, to breathe in the still warm bread, but giving Lord Hollis any indication I enjoy his food feels like a betrayal to myself. Instead, I bite into it as he watches me, wipe my mouth, and muster a thin, charitable smile to appease him.

He begins to serve himself a little of everything, tiny portions to sample the entire table before sitting down again.

"How was your slumber?" he asks between bites. "The conjunction darkness tends to ravish my sleeping patterns."

"I slept fine," I say and take a large bite.

"That is good. You will be well rested to begin your duties."

"And what are those?" I ask around another bite, not bothering with proper Estate manners.

"You are to keep the Estate statues, collect the offerings, and replace the altar adornments."

I stare at him, wondering if he is serious. I thought my new post would be more of a punishment, but this is nothing compared to what I pictured when Crixa said I would have to do labor.

Although, if I was given this task as the priestess I was before, having a post in the Estate library and falling to a position lower than some handmaids, I would have felt very differently. I bow my head to hide my thoughts.

"It could have been much worse," he offers, thinking my silence is devastation. "Though, you will have to work long after your period of atonement to cover the wages of your escorts as well."

"Happy to serve the temple in any way," I say flatly and reach for the platter of seasoned sausage between us.

The moment my hand comes in contact with the sweetly glazed meat, Lord Hollis has my wrist. He squeezes it tightly, constricting his thumb and middle finger into a painful ring.

"Have more sugar bread, High Priestess."

"I have had my fill." I pull on my restraint, trying to get out of his grasp, watching his face for any indication of what I have done to offend him, if my last words were not as sincere as they could have been.

"Have more. Gorge yourself on it." He practically throws my wrist back to me.

"Excuse me?"

His behavior is alarming.

I need to be quicker, figure him out faster, because I can feel myself losing control. It's possible he is more complicated than I imagined.

"Eat. It is your favorite. You will only have your favorite."

"Surely I cannot live off sugar bread." I laugh nervously.

"You will."

Lord Hollis is not someone who dispatches punishment because it is a lesson to be learned, a duty on his part, or reluctantly. He enjoys it.

He is determined to make my time in atonement miserable, right down to exploiting my favorite food. He seeks to ruin even that small joy, to take something I once loved that was mine and erase it.

I place another roll on my plate, the large grains of the sugary cinnamon sticking to my fingers. When I take another bite, I am not met with the same urge to close my eyes and savor it, to sigh deeply at all the fond memories it brings up. Instead, I chew it just enough to get it down and take a sip of stale water.

"And if you are still hungry . . . have another." Lord Hollis watches me with a pleased expression, like he has given me a little treat.

He talks about nothing at all: a crack that formed in one of the walls of the Estate during a tremor being repaired, the flowers that are in season and to be placed on the statues I will attend to.

I am able to force down three more rolls, not knowing if this will be my only meal for the day or if he will bring me back for another strange feast. Luckily, every item that looked delicious on the plate quickly turns once I glance at him shoveling it into his mouth.

"I would love to hear your tale of ascension. The details must have been so, so . . . striking for you to forget that it happened at all. One can't imagine," he mocks, popping a morsel into his mouth.

"I did not forget. I was confused and angry, as I said."

He hums like he thinks I am clever then wipes his face with a dark red napkin and leans back in his chair. "Some other time then, as we will have plenty together. I will make sure the kitchen bakes more of your favorite."

"You are too kind." I stare at him, not amused, not caring if he hears my disdain.

"Dismissed," he says suddenly and looks at me expectantly.

I rise from the table and round the head position where he is sitting, hoping to leave without another word, but he reaches out and grabs my arm. This time he pulls downward, making me hunch so he can speak right into my ear. His hot breath on my lobe makes me wince at the scaly sensation.

"I know you have not ascended, Ferren . . . and I don't care. But you will tell me how you acquired those new powers." His voice is low and biting enough to feel like a real threat I will not easily get away from.

I pull my hand free when he lets me and stand straight, adjusting my veil. "My name is High Priestess Ferren. You will address me as such even if I am being tortured."

His smile is dubious, like I have pointed out his fun game.

"And I have been found worthy of my First Mother." My voice is monotone, almost rehearsed, like the machine that read the Viathan messages aloud. "I have seen her in the flesh. She looked upon me with more gifts and I have ascended according to the temple law and the highest priestess. That is all you need to know."

There is something satisfying about seeing him vibrate with anger even if my declaration is false.

Lord Hollis is jealous. He wants nothing more than to be part of this world, to be accepted into the temple. He is the most powerful divine man I have ever heard of, living or dead, yet the priestess order will never recognize him.

Even I am able to step back into the priestess order after all that I have done, and he, who remains a constant source of knowledge for the emperor and has loyalty to the Estate, cannot go where I can. If I were any other priestess, he may get bored and move along, spend his time on more important things, but I have what he has always wanted—more power without the need for the temple—and he intends to find out how.

He wipes his face calmly and stands from his chair, closing the small distance between us. His hand rises high up in the air, and on reflex I wince, closing my eyes to prepare for the blow.

But it does not come.

I peek my eyes open and relax the tension I held preparing to be slapped.

His hand comes down slowly, his smile maddening. A warning demonstration of what he could do if he so pleases and not one person in this room would stop him.

"Enjoy your time dusting statues today, High Priestess. I look forward to our next meal." Lord Hollis smiles and waves a hand for me to leave.

Guardsmen Ben escorts me to a corridor where an elder priestess with an oddly placid expression meets me. The wooden cart next to her is full of long delphinium flowers in dark hues, the petals fresh and delicate. The massive cart is boxy and comes up to my chest and looks like it will be hard to push in some parts of the Estate with the uneven cobblestone.

"Blessed morning, Elder Priestess," I say but get no reply.

She smiles and waits until I am standing right next to her to gesture to the cart as if presenting it. She holds a palm to each compartment, glancing back to make eye contact before moving on to each one.

She stands and looks at me expectantly, saying nothing. When she sighs and looks a little worried, like she may have to go through the process again, I nod.

"Thank you, Elder Priestess. I understand."

She sighs again as she positions herself behind the pushing bar of the cart and slowly takes off down the hallway without checking to see if I am following her. I glance at Ben, who makes an ushering motion for me to go first.

It's a strange, silent interaction, but I got the main points of what she was conveying. I wonder if this is what others see when 99 and I interact, him silently using body language to speak to me while we have vastly deeper conversations through our tether. I press my lips together to stop the smile forming and the homesickness that follows.

We stop at a hallway intersection, three directions joining together by a small, open chamber. The statue and adjoining altar are used frequently as people pass it in between duties or on their way home. Even now, this part of the Estate is alive with busy people.

The patron on the single pew in front of the statue stands as they notice us moving toward them, the sound of the rolling wheels alerting them to move without question.

The young man bows to the statue of First Mother and then to both the elder priestess and me before departing. Without acknowledging him, she pushes through until her cart is blocking anyone from getting close to the single pew or statue as they continue to use the passages.

The sound of her clapping her hands together to let me know she is beginning snaps my attention. I had not realized until now, when she is waiting for my eyes to meet hers before she begins anything, that she is not being rude. She has simply taken a vow of silence for the conjunction.

I smile for a reason I do not know, maybe because of how easily the details of this place come back, how elegant they can be.

The elder priestess extracts the only slightly wilted flowers from the vases built into the walls on either side of First Mother's statue and places them in an empty container on the side of her cart. She switches the burnt down candles, scrapes the dripping wax, and replaces the altar cloth.

As I watch her, I realize this is not that much different to setting up and taking down the temple altar for a ceremony, the location being the only real difference. In the temple, it is a sacred duty, an honor. Here, it is in service to those patrons not allowed in the Estate temple, ones who cannot make it to a city temple during the day for a ceremony.

Lastly, she takes the darkly tarnished brass bowl beneath First Mother and pours out the remaining water. The largest compartment in her cart is unlocked, the door swinging open to reveal a glass jug I missed earlier when I believed she was being odd. She holds the bowl under a spout and twists until the water fills it halfway.

She gently lays the bowl in the center of the altar, bows her head, and then begins pushing the cart without making sure I am following again.

Eventually, I am left to carry out the rest of the statues on my own. As she leaves, she points down a long hallway and then turns her wrist in another direction, letting me know the path I am to take.

I glance over at Ben, who leans against the stone wall, looking down onto the courtyard, making himself occupied while I attend to my first statue alone.

The work is boring and tedious, but each statue altar looks beautiful when complete. It's satisfying in a way, and I find myself getting lost in the rhythmic pattern of the ritual, letting my body carry out the memorized movement so that my mind can wander.

There is so much comfort in routine that if I allow it, I can unfocus so much that this small task is almost a playing out of old memories I have in the Estate, like I am in the Viathan library, daydreaming all of this. That the sound of Ben's footsteps belong to Commanders Wesley and Yeva as they look out for me until 99 bursts through the doors to greet me.

The tolling temple bell heaves me out of that fantasy, a reminder that I am truly back in the Estate, that I chose this.

I listen to the sound, eyes closed, letting the pitch sink into me, making me sway. I was not expecting the rhythmic song of being called to temple to have such an effect on me. My chest gets tight, and I can feel myself leaning into its direction like it's calling me to it.

The anxious feeling is down deep in my bones, the fear of being late to service. It's enough to send a chill over my skin, my body and mind fighting present logic and past habits that still tug at me, awakening only when here, down to my marrow.

"I have orders to escort you to temple as well. Let's go," Ben says, pushing off from the pillar he rests on.

I pull the cart off to the side and begin the long trek to the temple, fighting to walk at the pace of who I am now and not in the steps of an anxious, desperate priestess who thinks she should have been there already.

But as I turn the corner to the temple wing, I see a flash of white fabric.

A pit forms in my stomach as I see the group of women from the Temple of Divine Mothers and know who is with them.

My feet take off on their own to get closer, as if I'm drawn to the promise of seeing her.

Temple members weave through the busy hall, and beyond the crowd of ornately dressed women here to pray and attend service, I see Leema.

She sees me too, her eyes locking onto me for just a moment, then she places a hand on her round stomach and walks into my former place of worship. My beautiful sister, dressed in white and truly pregnant as Thea said.