Chapter 8

I lie there in the darkness, relishing the feel of nothingness after the onslaught of electricity, until I slowly start to get the feeling I'm not alone. I'm not scared, this isn't the darkness of nightmares, but more the darkness of a safe place with a loved one. The presence grows stronger, but I get the feeling they won't approach until I'm ready. I don't know how I know this, but they exude love and patience, making me feel comfortable in their space, because wherever this is, I've been brought here. There's no doubt in my mind that I'm no longer in the chapel in Morrowmer. My body may be, but my mind is nowhere in Arhaven.

"I can feel you," I say out into the darkness, feeling foolish, but I know they will hear me.

"As I can feel you, beloved."

Beloved? Confusion rolls through me and a feeling of gentle amusement emits from the unseen presence. I can't hear the voice, but I can feel it deep in my soul. I get the impression that she's female and in her embrace I do feel loved, even though it's something I'm struggling to wrap my head around.

"Is it so hard to believe that you are beloved to me?"

Letting out a humourless laugh, I look around the darkness, my voice bitter. "But I am nothing. A slave, a criminal."

"These are all the names that man has given you. They have taken much from you, your identity included." A wave of emotions rolls over me, none of them my own—anger, frustration, and an overwhelming sense of sadness. "I know you by a different name…however, you are not ready to hear it just yet, so for now, you will be known as my beloved."

"Who are you?" There is only one being this could be, but She would never appear to someone like me.

"I think you know that already, child." Her words hit me like a physical blow, and if I wasn't already sitting down, I would have been knocked back.

The Great Mother.

When I can finally think, I ask the question that's plaguing my thoughts. "Why am I here? Why me?"

There's a pause before the Mother replies and the darkness around us seems to ripple and change. "That is more complicated to explain, and I have little time, we're about to be interrupted."

"Interrupted? By who?" How can the Great Mother be interrupted? She's all powerful and the thought that there's someone strong enough to break through this connection is terrifying. No one should have that kind of power. The darkness ripples again and I swear I can see shapes moving in the distance, twisted, grotesque shapes made from nightmares.

"Our time is up." Her words are rushed and urgent. "Know this, stay close to him, he will protect you."

Confused, I push up onto shaking legs and spin around in the darkness, looking for the Mother, questions rolling through my mind. "Him... Do you mean Grayson?"

"I must go. Be strong, beloved. Don't trust the priest." Her words are distant as I feel her presence start to fade. The space around me constricts and I feel like I'm held in a tight grasp as the world seems to shake. The Mother's loving embrace disappears completely and an inky, evil feeling starts to surround me. I know it's no longer the Goddess holding me, but something different, something hungry. Fear takes over my body, but I can't move, not even to tremble as my breath stutters in my chest.

"No! She does not belong to the likes of you!" The Mother's booming voice turns feral as a blinding light fills the space, so bright it breaks through my closed eyelids. A scream unlike anything I've ever heard before fills the area, tearing at my mind, and I feel something warm and wet trickle from my ears as I fade into the darkness.

"Back off! Give her some space!" The voice is loud and close to my head, making me wince. The sound of shuffling feet and shocked voices bounces around the room, aggravating my already pounding head. Why is everything so loud? Something brushes my hair and I screw my eyes shut as I try to sort through my jumbled thoughts. "Clarissa, can you hear me?" A low voice cuts through my confusion, and I open my eyes to see the concerned face of a high magician leaning over me.

"Grayson?" Trying to sit up, I realise that my upper body is resting on his knee, my head cradled in his arms. I think I hear him utter a prayer of thanks to the Mother, but as I painfully turn my head to look at him, his expression is blank. "What happened?" I inquire as I sit upright, pulling away from Grayson's warmth, fighting the shiver racking my body that I tell myself is from the cold and not from the lack of a certain man's arms.

"I was hoping you could tell us that," the high priest spits as he steps closer, his whole presence giving me the heebie-jeebies. The words the Mother whispered to me ring in my ears— don't trust the priest. Did She mean the high priest? Priest Rodrick who lurks behind the high priest with a sickening smirk on his face? Or all priests?

"Give her some space," Grayson orders, and I'm surprised when the high priest does so, although not without his upper lip curling in disgust. The magician ignores him and turns back to look at me. He's still sitting on the floor next to me, letting me take my time, not rushing to make me stand or worrying about getting his clothing dirty like many of the nobles would. "After you accepted the blessing, your body arched back and your skin began to glow before you collapsed. I managed to catch you before you hit the floor. Just before you woke up, your skin started to glow again and symbols appeared on your wrists. Then you woke up."

There's something he's not saying, and I get the impression he doesn't want to say it in front of our current audience. Frowning, I lift a hand to my throbbing head only to touch something wet, and when I remove it, I see that it's blood. Before I can even open my mouth, Grayson is handing me a handkerchief and I lift it to my ear, dabbing at the small trail of blood before switching to the other side. In the…vision, I had felt my ears bleed when that creature had screeched before the Mother saved me from him.

It was real. Whatever had happened in the darkness, it wasn't a dream or a delusion, it had been real. The Mother blessed me.

"What are you?" The words are vicious, and I look up to see Priest Rodrick has snuck past the high priest and is leering down at me with hatred in his eyes. And I know that despite the disguise, he knows who I am.

"What do you mean? You know who I am."

A humourless laugh leaves his twisted lips as he takes another step closer, the promise of violence in his every move. "I do, you're a disgusting traitor." His words are loud, and I look around to see if anyone overheard, but they are all too busy involved in their own gossip to pay attention.

"Shut your mouth, priest." Grayson spits the word like it's a curse, his voice venomous as he pushes up to stand, taking a few threatening steps towards Rodrick.

"You can't talk to me like that!" The priest's face turns red with anger, so used to being respected and feared that his hands shake with his rage, aching to punish the magician for his insult. However, he would never lay a hand on a magician, let alone a high magician, and Grayson knows that. Rodrick, to his credit, stands his ground as Grayson takes another threatening step towards him so they're almost chest to chest, the magician lowering his voice.

"You know I can, or need I remind you and the rest of this chapel?" He stares down the priest, waiting to see if his words hit their mark. I don't doubt that he would do exactly as he threatens.

Gulping, Rodrick turns pale but just shakes his head, gesturing towards me to make his point. "She doesn't deserve the blessing. She should be executed." His voice is strong despite his obvious fear.

"You don't get it, do you?" Grayson whispers to the man before stepping back and making his voice louder so all gathered around can hear. "You think the Mother would bless her, especially in such a dramatic way, if She didn't want the girl to survive for Her purpose?" Gazing around the room, I can see people nodding and leaning together to whisper as they look over at me, still in a puddle of lace on the floor as I watch the exchange.

"It's not right. There's nothing in the scrolls about a blessing like that. She's different . How can we trust her?" Rodrick turns to the high priest, waiting for his agreement. However, the high priest just shakes his head grimly before gesturing at me.

"You saw the marks on her arm. The Goddess has claimed her."

"Claimed me?" I cry out. If I knew what was good for me, I'd keep quiet, but I'm unable to hold back the exclamation and all heads turn back to me. I fight the urge to drop my head and hide behind my hair under all the attention, and my skin tingles as their eyes run over my body, my face, as if trying to figure out my secrets. Grayson must see my discomfort, as he steps away from the priest and moves to my side.

"I'll explain later," Grayson murmurs as he crouches next to me, his hand reaching out to cup my chin. His expression is sympathetic, as if he knows exactly what's going through my head. Offering me his hand, I shift my legs beneath me, and with his help I stand, reaching out and gripping onto his cloak as a wave of dizziness runs over me. "Steady, blessings can make you feel a bit light-headed, the bigger the blessing the stronger the after effects."

Now he tells me, the voice inside me whispers, and I find myself smiling slightly at the snarky comment. Taking a deep breath, I steady myself and let go of his cloak once my head clears, the tingling still running over my skin, albeit it's far less intense since I "woke up" from the blessing. It's a strange feeling, not painful, but like I have an electrical current flowing along my body. I feel powerful.

Raising my arm up, I study my skin. I can't see anything different apart from the new mark that appeared when I woke from the blessing. "How long will this feeling last for?" My voice is quiet, my question mostly to myself, but Grayson gestures for me to follow him as we leave the chapel. The sound of the high priest's echoing voice follows us as he continues with the blessing now that I've left. "And shouldn't we stay for the rest of the blessing?" My question is half-hearted, an oppressive feeling that I hadn't noticed before lifting from my chest the farther we walk away from the chapel. Peering over his shoulder, Grayson gives a small shrug, the corner of his lips pulling up.

"No, there are some benefits of being friends with a high mage," he jokes, before he continues, "What feeling is that? Freedom?" His interested expression tells me that he truly wants to know, but I'm still caught on what he said previously.

There are some benefits of being friends with a high mage. Friends. Is that what this is? What we are? I've never had a friend before and I've never felt the need for one, so this feeling is foreign to me. Sure, there have been times when I've been lonely. Even when you are surrounded by others you can still feel alone, but nothing is ever going to change that, so there is no point mourning something that isn't going to happen. Grayson slows his pace so he's walking by my side and raises his eyebrows in expectation.

"No, that's not what I…" Trailing off, I look around as we stroll through the Queen's Courtyard, soaking up as much of the calming, fresh air as I can before we walk back into the castle. Grayson remains silent as he waits for me to finish my explanation. Raising my hand, I wiggle my fingers in his direction. "I meant this tingling sensation."

"What do you mean?" Something about the tone of his voice makes me turn to look at him as he speaks. His brow is furrowed as his eyes lock onto my raised hand.

"My skin feels…alive." Trying to explain the feeling that is so alien to me is difficult, and I struggle for the words. "I feel strong, stronger than I have in years." My body feels better than it has in a long time, the exhaustion, aches, and pains of hard, physical labour and sleeping on a cold stone floor has vanished, replaced with this strange, exhilarating feeling.

I'm so focused on my body and trying to find the words to explain that I don't realise he's stopped moving until I hear his hushed voice behind me. "It's not possible."

Concern runs through me when I see his expression, and I take a step towards him. "Grayson—" I don't know what I was going to do, what I was going to say, but something in his face hardens. Rushing forward, he grabs my arm, his eyes wide and urgent.

"Show me," he demands, his voice different than the Grayson I was beginning to know, and it reminds me that I don't actually know this guy. The barriers I usually keep so tightly around me had begun to slip. Frowning, I pull my arm away from his tight hold, wrapping it around myself.

As if that would protect you, my inner voice says snidely. I don't want Grayson touching me with that look on his face. "Show you what? What's going on?" I demand as I shift into a defensive position, my voice tightening, but Grayson doesn't seem to be paying attention as he starts pacing the corridor we just entered, our voices echoing along its length.

"It can't be, she didn't show any of the signs…a different type of blessing altogether..." I don't catch everything he says as he mutters to himself, pacing the short width of the corridor. Muttering strange words under his breath, the fingers on his left hand start moving in complex patterns, and the familiar feeling of magic falls over me, wrapping around me and making all my movements more difficult. It doesn't stop me from moving, but whatever he's doing is making me edgy.

"Grayson! Whatever magic you're using on me, stop it!" My voice is sharp like a whip and his head shoots up, his dark eyes meeting mine.

"You can feel my magic?" he asks quietly, and I feel like my answer is important to what happens next.

"Yes, it feels like I'm walking through treacle." Shifting uncomfortably under his gaze, I reach for an explanation. "Should I not be able to?"

"Only other magic users can feel magic being used, and that sensation you're feeling is the blessing of the Mother settling on you, literally every pore will absorb it. You shouldn't be able to feel that either, not without magic," he explains as he stalks towards me, every muscled inch of him rippling with tension. Stopping just out of reach, he waits for my response.

It takes a moment for what he's saying to sink in before my mouth drops open and a startled laugh escapes me. It sounds strange, more like a bark than the happy, carefree laughter I've heard from some of the castle children. "Are you saying I have magic?"

A confused frown pulls at his brow again and he shakes his head as if to deny what I'm saying, but he simply holds out his hand. "Show me your mark again." With a frown of my own, I take a small step to close the gap between us, his words more an order than a request. Holding out my arms, I remove the cuffs and flip my wrists so he can examine the skin there. I haven't had the chance to properly look, but when I do, I gasp at what I see. A delicate pink mark in a language I don't recognise sits just above three black X's and the slave number branded into my skin. The mark actually sits right above where the cuff was covering my slave marks, answering my unasked question of how he knew it was there. Reaching towards me, Grayson touches the mark, tracing it with a large finger. The mark glows as his power rolls over me.

"You can read it?" I inquire, my words breathy as a warmth fills me, the loving caress I'm beginning to associate with the Mother making a small smile appear on my lips. Grayson's eyes jump up from the mark and whatever he sees makes his eyes widen, something within him softening before he gives me his own smile.

"Yes, it's the Mother's sacred language, the language of our magic. These words hold power." His tone is quiet, revered, as if we are in the chapel paying our respects, not in some abandoned castle corridor.

"What does it say?" I have to know. The unknown is dangerous, even though I'm sure this mark is a blessing and a gift from the Mother.

Grayson's thumb continues to rub over the sensitive skin of my wrist, his eyes never leaving my own. "My beloved." Something flutters within me and a blush colours my cheeks as he whispers the translation to me. I know he's just telling me what the mark says, but hearing those words awakes something within me.

It's been a day full of awakenings. Don't forget who he is , I remind myself, and I realise with a jolt how close we're standing. Clearing my throat, I take a hasty step back, pulling my wrist from his gentle grasp, subconsciously rubbing at the tingling skin as I mourn the loss of his touch.

Pull yourself together, I berate myself as I take a deep breath and glance around to check no one has seen us. I may not have grown up as a lady, but I've been around enough to pick up on etiquette, and I know standing that close to a man will only spread rumours, rumours which I would rather avoid. My main goal is to get through all of this and remain unseen. Which is very difficult to do while wearing a dress made of starlight and receiving a blessing that makes my skin glow. Sighing, I see Grayson is still watching me with undisguised interest.

"What happens now?"

My question seems to shake him out of his daze and his eyes run over me shrewdly, as if assessing I'm dressed appropriately. "You need to go to the ball."

Groaning, I look at him in horror. I'd hoped I could skip this part, after all, only the lords and ladies are invited to the ball. "Do I have to?"

"Yes." Laughing, he grins at my expression, straightening his uniform before he begins walking down the corridor once again. He glances at me questioningly as he passes me. Following behind him, I stare at his back, my thoughts spinning as I try to conjure a way to avoid going as he continues to talk. "I'll join you after I've taken care of something."

When I finally process what he said, I freeze, staring at his back as he carries on walking, unaware of the terror running through me. He's sending me into the viper's nest with only a pretty dress and magicked hair to protect me. "Wait, you're making me go in by myself? I don't know what I'm doing!"

"I'll escort you back to my rooms. You'll wait there until your escort arrives to take you to the ball. Once I'm free, I'll join you." Realising I'm no longer trailing after him, he pauses and looks over his shoulder at me. "We don't have to stay there long, just long enough to show our faces, then we'll leave. You will be safe," he assures me as he lowers his voice, seeing how much I don't want to be doing this. I have a decision to make here—make a fuss and refuse to go or trust him. The words of the Mother float through my thoughts again.

Trust in him. Trust in Grayson.

"Promise?" I hate the tremble in my voice, but if Grayson hears it he doesn't react. Instead, his smile widens and he holds his hand out to me again.

"I promise."