Page 121 of The Garnet Daughter
“I can do that.” She touches my cheek, but I can’t stand the barrier that has been forged between us so I surge forward to hug her.
“Listen to me, Calliape.” Her tone sounds different suddenly. “The priestess order is collecting their selections.”
My vision clears from the water that blurred them moments ago to see movement at the entrance of the cargo bay, dark grey gowns billowing around the order members as they watch Selene and me from afar.
“The priestess order is here?”
“They have come for you. You must go with them,” she says slowly, as if she fears panic will overtake me and I will flee.
“No, I’m not accepting the nomination.”
“Look at me. If you do not go, they will keep pursuing you. If not for the highest, then for the ranks of their order. I have learned my lesson in trying to protect you, and you do not need me in this. Stay true to yourself. They shall see Calliape of Frith can’t be controlled, that she is as powerful as her mother but also as wild and formidable as the sacred mountain she was raised on, and they are certain to withdraw.”
Chapter
Thirty-Six
The Estate temple is eerier than the last time I snuck in to retrieve the spell book. It has been cleaned up, broken pieces of furniture arranged how they were prior, but somehow even with the light of the candles bringing the space to life again, the air raises every hair on my neck. The hole Omnesis rose from has been boarded up with planks running across the top and secured in place. It’s far from where it was originally, at least what I noticed, but enough for a large group of order members to congregate.
They have forcefully summoned me and a few other order members who have been selected for the next highest priestess. Most are older and wearing the same fine grey temple gowns as the others. There is only one woman who is similar in age to me adorned in a very worn, black temple gown.
They assemble us together in the front near where the stone altar once was, now tucked away out of view as Ferren said it would be to keep the number of stones a secret.
The group of order members seems to be higher ranking. They sit on the pews, staring with such scrutiny, it makes my skin crawl. Selene is among them, my only comfort in a sea of unfamiliar faces.
“We begin now,” an order member with heavily creased cheeks and lips announces. “In the absence of a highest and the eldest-born priestess, who in her loving power protects the city at the cost of her life force, we proceed orderly and without lead. Among us today are the most powerful in our ranks, the eldest, and the members who impart exceptional wisdom to their priestess sisters. We will hear each of their selections to gauge the fitness of each.”
My skin prickles as if I’ve been addressed directly and not the group of women subtly being ushered together. I awkwardly follow the women next to me, walking closer to the altar and facing the rest of the order.
Viewing the temple from this angle again makes my stomach churn with the memory of August holding the temple doors shut with the other commanders. My body urges me to fold anywhere else. It’s torture to stand here with images of the ritual so vividly echoing off the cold stone walls. How Ferren could ever find such a place beautiful, I am not sure. It’s rigid and the very air is suffocating, even without the incense billowing around us.
“Elder Priestess Rita, would you please step forward and name your selection?”
A sturdily built old woman with delicate features rises from a pew and gazes around the room she has been asked to address. “Elder Priestess Berget is devout. She has resided in the Estate since her birth, as did her mother, and her mother’s mother before her. Her gifts are from the original lineages, hereditary and strong. Her ward would protect the city and cast out any evil that wished to harm us and the sacred stones. First Mother has blessed her three times, among them the gift of prophetic dreams.”
The elder priestess who the other speaks of stands a little straighter, but as soon as her gift is named, she glances back at me. It’s long and intentional. Not one of them looked at me sinceI walked in the temple, disregarding me entirely. But this doesn’t seem like she’s glaring at me because I don’t belong here. Her gaze seems pointed.
More order members speak, naming each priestess selection and her gifts, what she has achieved within the temple, each more terrifying than the next, some even heartfelt and pleading. After each, the nominations are asked various questions about the kind of highest each woman intends to be, how she would benefit the order.
The way they speak is unnatural, robust for little reason, simple words spoken in a cadence as if each is sacred. I survey the room full of these women, dressed in fine clothes and jewelry as the city around them prepares for the conjunction, slowly prostrating their opinions as if time is not running out
When it is High Priestess Ursa’s turn to stand, her eyes connect with mine, a smile slashing her face, and for some reason my body steps forward even though I have not commanded it to.
“I selected a divine child currently outside the order, but whose mother was within our ranks.”
Judging eyes poke the sides of my cheeks, followed by whispers murmuring in a low hiss as I stand paralyzed. It makes me feel like a child for reasons I cannot understand, but more than that, it makes me want to go home.
“Calliape of the planet Frith.” High Priestess Ursa continues, “Conceived within the order but raised on the sacred mountain. Where she lacks in knowledge of our traditions and ways, she makes up for in one of the strongest hereditary lines our order has known. Her mother was High Priestess Juno.”
My heart tightens when I hear her name spoken, and then punches forward in my chest. The murmurs turn from assessment to intrigued, some even sucking in breath as if familiar with my mother’s name.
“Calliape is the only living divine child with the gift of traveling across worlds in many generations. She would thrive with the right guidance in the position she was meant to be in.”
Selene ducks her head, looking down at her lap in discomfort. She felt the same slap with the last sentiment that I did. They look down on my mother for taking me away from here to be raised on another world, yet she evokes her name to prove my worth. My molars ache from clenching and sliding across each other as High Priestess Ursa basks in the poised uproar she has started with the older women in the rest of the pews.
She smiles at me again, satisfied she has successfully rooted her opinion in each of them firmly.
I shouldn’t be here. This demonstration is not of First Mother. This is . . . pretend. First Mother would want a ward placed regardless of all of this, one held by all of us. I’ve wondered what my life would be like if my mother did not flee, and this single taste is enough to sour those flowery thoughts of my youth. I do not belong here. This is not the part that is missing from me. I am thankful I never knew this life.
