Page 86 of The Cerulean Sister
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 hercart. 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'sfootsteps 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.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Leema locked eyes with me briefly. She was laughing and smiling with another woman just moments before, her joy carrying over in her expression as she spotted me. And even though that happiness was not directed at me, we connected across the crowd how only two people with a deep history can, their eyes always finding each other’s even after all this time.
I enter the temple in all its opulence, the overpowering smell of incense grounding me in the present but filling my lungs down to my gut with a sense of deep longing and sadness for the love I once had for this place. It is beautiful and even otherworldly but does not feel the same.
I assumed it would not affect me, that I would still be able to cling onto the last moments of betrayal. But I have many other memories here, and my mind is too focused on remembering the good parts of it. I can hate this place and still miss it. I can want my sister out but still feel the profound magic of a temple ritual.
Even admitting those feelings edges on disloyalty to my new life, like I am teetering too close to something very dangerous.
Two elder priestesses show me to my seat at the very back of the temple, a completely empty pew to myself. Most haveentered, mingling and taking their seats. I notice many eyes on me, but when I connect with them, they quickly look away. I can hear others around me whispering—some don't even try to hide their disgust.
The last I saw most of these women, I was being dragged out of this temple. They clearly have not forgotten that display.
I glance at Crixa up on her platform. Her lips are pursed as she talks to another high priestess, nodding her head in that patronizing way she does. I search the many grey veils in front of me, hoping one of them looks faintly like Thea’s, but now they all look the same.
I am close enough to the large doors that I can see Ben chatting with some of the other guards just outside the temple. The ones from the Temple of Divine Mothers wear a white, cape-like fabric on their backs to show they protect the future of the Estate. No, thevesselsfor the future of the Estate. A detail I did not know was so different before. Anytime I would see the women from that temple, they looked so pampered, so doted on, it almost seemed excessive. But now, that seems like a clever trick to lure more women to pilgrimage into the temple's grasp with the promise of being treated like divinity for their stay.
My eyes comb through the line of women at the front, looking for Leema again now that most have moved out of the way. I see her pale skin that seems to glow with its own milky light, her sandy hair down and flowing like the others from that temple who are not divine.
