Agony burrows behind my eye sockets before I can halt the attempt at recollection.
Oh, gods help me.Nausea rises, acid biting the back of my tongue. Lightheadedness takes hold, and I grip the railing, praying for it to pass quickly.
When I peek down again, my legs go wobbly before the realization hits.
Homesick. I am homesick.
It took far too long to put my finger on the driving melancholy that had me contemplating more than merely peeking over the edge.
“How can I be homesick when I don’t know where home even is?” I ask the empty roof.
Gods, I can’t stand the endless litany anymore. The never-ending ticker tape of questions nobody will answer. It’s been the same shit parading around my mutilated mind for three days now.
On top of everything else, there’s something lurking just under my skin. It shifts behind my ribs, gnawing at the edges of my consciousness, restless and vicious andterrifying.
“Tiss?”
“What are you doing?” Voices overlap behind me, cutting through the biting wind and jerking my muscles. “You aren’t supposed to be up here.”
I whirl around to find two young girls shivering with no cloaks on, one of whom I recognize. Both wear the plain black dresses, stockings, and shoes of temple handmaidens.
“Getting some fresh air. I didn’t mean to break rules.”
“No matter. Just don’t let the sisters catch you up here,” says Brigit, whom I met two days ago. She turns toward the vestibule. “Come inside. Lady Elodie’s been waiting. She wishes to speak with you.”
The taller and older of the two, she looks to be around sixteen. She’s pretty, with ivory skin, blue eyes, and a mass of red hair. Her younger counterpart is petite, delicate, and certainly no older than ten.
“Who is Lady Elodie?”
“Second High Priestess to the temple,” chirps the younger one.
Interesting. I trail them to the rooftop vestibule. “And what’s your name?”
“I’m Imogen.” She skips to catch up with Brigit.
A wall of warmth hits once inside, my frozen fingers tingling from the sudden temperature shift. The door bangs shut. After the shrieking wind, the silence rings.
A filthy skylight barely lets in light, forcing my eyes to adjust in the dimness. “Why does a priestess want to meet with me?”
“Not sure,” comes Brigit’s voice. “Honestly, her summoning you before the lottery is highly irregular.”
My escorts are descending the narrow, winding staircase when my surroundings come back into focus.
I hurry after them. “What lottery?”
“The sisters didn’t tell you?” Imogen’s russet eyes flick over me. Her skin is a warm, dark brown, and her black ringlets are gathered in a ribbon at her nape.
“The sisters are overwhelmed with preparations at the moment,” says Brigit. “And Tiss was the last to arrive.”
“Right. I forgot.” Imogen’s face scrunches in concentration.
“Are you new too?” I ask as we near the bottom.
“Uh-huh!” She flashes a wide grin, revealing the gap where she’s recently lost an upper molar. Her short legs stretch to reach each riser.
“Finally.” A familiar croak rings across the landing, accompanied by jingling.
Brigit and Imogen stiffen, their heads snapping up as Sister Ailen approaches.
