Chapter 31

Chapter

Thirty-One

I sit in the high priestess section of the temple for so long, the incense burns down to ash. No service was held today while the elder priestesses prepare the bodies of the temple members who died in the coup.

The temple is warm and empty, my guards waiting just outside the doors. They think they are doing a noble service escorting me upon my request after my duties are done for the day. Ones I carried out with newfound determination to complete our mission.

Thea comes this time of day to pray after the School of Divine Children has dismissed. If I can catch her here, it will be my best chance to convince her to retrieve the ledgers for us.

Calliape is coming back for me tonight, to meet at the safe house. They will all be waiting for an update, if I was able to convince Thea to let me borrow the school ledgers.

I want this to be over, to ensure that no other women are hurt in that temple, but more than anything I want to be with my family again. It was too painful leaving them last night, but I could not stay there with 99 like I desperately wanted, as my guards are always firmly planted outside my chamber doors.

"Ferren?" Thea's voice snaps my attention to the aisle where she stands. Her tone is so strange, and she looks exhausted, the same placid, dull expression on her face as was there in the grand hall after the coup.

"Blessed evening." I smile and scoot into the pew to make room for her.

She replies the same and then ducks her head, whispering a quick prayer before sitting.

"Were you able to visit with Leema?" she asks.

"I was."

"She seemed well when I spoke to her last."

"She is." I rake my teeth across my bottom lip, uneased by the monotone back and forth.

"I imagine she was delighted to see you have ascended," Thea says flatly.

My brow breaks out in a speckled sweat, the grey fabric of my veil suddenly too hot against my scalp. "Yes."

She stares up at the statue of First Mother, completely somber.

This is not the friend I have known all my life. Half of our conversations are normally spent reining in her chatty optimism.

I notice she wears no gold jewelry on her fingers, her veil is not embellished in beadwork, and her lips are not painted in berry stain. She picks at the skin around her nails, red and sore from excessive attention.

Something has happened to her and it scares me. She has not been the same since the coup.

The reality of what should have been obvious to me hits my chest and takes my breath away.

Ben left me in Lord Hollis's chamber and was going to make sure Thea was safe. He has not been assigned to guard me during duties since then.

I realize Ben may never have made it to her.

"Thea, what happened during the coup?" I take her hands tenderly. "Please tell me."

She looks at me with watery eyes, already red from previous emotions. "We boarded up the doors with the children's desks. We could hear what was going on outside."

I breathe a little easier hearing that she was locked away. Thoughts of much worse crossed my mind.

"The guards found Ben when it was over. He was two corridors away." Her voice breaks when she says his name, and she squeezes my hand so hard as she continues, "He had cut down so many. They said it looked like he had stopped a group on the way to . . . on the way to the school."

"Thea . . ."

She sobs only once, then presses the back of her hand against her mouth, forcing herself to stop. "I couldn't see his body before they took him away. The children needed me. They were still so frightened."

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her as close as I can in the pew. She is stiff as she sniffles and holds back more tears, but I hold her until she finally relaxes into my embrace.

"I am so sorry," I whisper.

She wipes her face and straightens her dress. Even though she is suffering, she is still worried about looking unpoised in the temple.

"Thank you. I know he slumbers with First Mother now."

My stomach twists as I watch her stuff down so much. I cannot ask her for those ledgers, not when she is grieving. She has already helped me so much, cared for me even when my actions went against her own morals. My only hope now is to find the ledgers in the forbidden section of the library because I will not put her through more. I will find another way.

Thea stands from the pew and wipes her cheeks, attempting to compose herself. "I think I will pray in my chambers," she announces, knowing her emotions could overtake her again if she stays.

"Are you sure? I can wait outside and let you know if anyone else is near."

"No, no, I am ok. Solitude is best for me now."

"If you think so." I give her a tight smile.

She bows her head slightly, turns down the aisle, but then pauses like she has forgotten something. "Some day when we have a moment, I would like to hear your ascension story. Was it on that other world?"

"It was," I lie.

Her smile is genuine.

"And will you finally tell me of yours?" I ask.

"Yes."

I can't watch her exit the temple, walking slow and somber like a ghost, so I look up at the statue of First Mother adorned with flowers and candles.

The stones I held in my hands are below her, nestled and protected here within the temple ward.

I let myself get lost in the atmosphere again, basking in the silent temple, but even in the peacefulness, I feel like an intruder in this pew. I cannot remember the last time I said a prayer. One that is of my own will and not simply bowing my head during forced temple attendances.

Prayer may have never truly served me before, used only to ease my fears and anxiety, but if First Mother ever listens, I hope it is now. When I have come to such an impasse that I do not know if I will be able to continue.

I take a deep breath and center myself, just like I did before, when prayer was an integrated ritual in every part of my life.

I do not shut my lids or get down on my knees. I stay seated, staring up at the statue of First Mother, looking into her stone eyes.

"I have not turned my back on you. How can I when you have never spoken to me, when you lie asleep?" I whisper, the words coming out on their own. I am lost to them. "How can you sleep while your children do monstrous things to each other? How can a mother sleep knowing what we do? I will not ask for forgiveness, First Mother, but if my sister is harmed because you slumber and will not help me . . . you will have to beg for my forgiveness before I turn to you again."

My last words come out harsh and wild, and I stare up at First Mother's stone face, unmoved. If another heard how I was speaking to her, there would be no hope for me ever ending my atonement.

I take a large inhale and calm myself, remembering whom I still speak to. Even if I feel differently praying now, like a bitter child asking for their absent mother, I still need her help.

"I will not sin against you with a lie that I will devote myself in the same way as I did before, but I will defend your temple, your stones with my life if you help me, and I will never ask anything of you again."

I relax in the pew, pressing against the backrest to wait for some kind of sign, to be given divine knowledge for what steps I need to take next, but it never comes.

I wait for so long, another priestess comes into the temple, seeking solitude just like I have.

The lesser priestess sits a few rows ahead of me, across the aisle, and bows her head to pray. It's not unusual for temple members to float in and out when service is not in session, finding moments throughout the day to get extra clarity.

I wonder if I know her, if she is working toward her ascension or just took her vows. But for some reason, I cannot stop checking in her direction, a primal feeling of alertness I do not dare ignore.

She keeps her head down a little unnaturally, her veil pinned a little too far forward.

The more I examine her, the more I cannot pinpoint what seems off. She looks like she belongs, but somehow, she stands out.

I cannot shake the odd sense that something is wrong, and soon it becomes all-out dread.

I shouldn't use my gifts, but I am desperate to know why her energy is so off-putting. I close my eyes and feel a surge of power as my gift of mind's eye wakes from its slumber and reaches across to slither up the aisle into her pew and probe at her mind.

But nothing happens.

She does not open to me or even react at all, as if I am trying to see into the head of a statue instead of a person.

She has no gifts that I can sense blocking entry, so I press further and my tether bounces away.

When I open my eyes, she stands from the pew, keeping her face forward, veil shielding her identity.

A shell of a person, here but not, all at once. A mind erased entirely and still it felt . . . familiar.

A prickly pain starts to spread across my chest, concentrating directly on my scar. I touch the spot where I was wounded and remember.

I have seen inside the mind of someone like this before, so unique and utterly terrifying.

The shadowy figure I saw on Frith gave off the same cold emptiness . . . right before he drove his weapon into my chest.