Sable nods in agreement, and she turns to address the rest of us. “You heard Father Aron. Bath time. Follow me.”
No one dares to complain. We’re all tired, hungry, and filthy. The two pseudo-baths on the road here were not enough for any of us, so I doubt anyone will whine about being ordered to clean up.
Father Aron’s eyes bore into me as I line up for my turn at the bath, and I suspect he’ll want a word with me in private later. I doubt very much he’s the type to allow Solari’s representative into his convent without a few words of warning. Sure enough, through some careful jockeying of our party, he manages to situate things so I’m the last person into the baths. He stops me with a hand on my shoulder, catching me off guard, and I do my best not to cringe as he grabs me.
“You are the one known as Cara. The Suntouched, they call you.”
“Yes.”
His eyes narrow, and his scowl deepens. “I trust I do not have to mention that any use of your powers will get you banished from our convent.”
I keep my tone even. “I would never dare show such disrespect.”
The hand vanishes, and he graces me with an ingenuous smile. “Excellent. Do enjoy your stay.”
He walks off, orange robes swishing around him, but not before I catch a whiff of smug satisfaction. The Alpha in him wanted the Alpha in me to know whose territory this is, and my acknowledgment of his authority sated him … for the time being, at least.
By the time I get my turn at the baths, most everyone is done. Sable has disappeared, likely helping our little group find their way around. I scrub as thorougly as possible, though I know I can’t wash away what Corvin did. The unseen wounds from that encounter will eventually harden and scar, but not before their rawness chafes at my nerves.
When I finish, I notice a small pile of clothing laid neatly next to the tub, along with a plush towel. Every stitch of it is dyed in the same flame orange color, and I wonder if the panthers in this convent have any other colors available to them. Surely they don’t spend their entire lives dressed in this shade.
Sable appears just as I finish dressing in the voluminous orange robes, standing at the edge of the room with her hands clasped behind her and her eyes lowered. The subservient pose surprises me, as I’d thought we had moved past that, but then I remember that she grew up here. Old habits die hard, and she must have been made to behave like this as a child. I can’t imagine Father Aron allowing an orphan to have any semblance of authority over him, so it makes sense that he’d instill in her to submit to his leadership.
“Your room is ready, Cara.”
My room. Notourroom. I’m sure Father Aron had a hand in that as well. I’d protest, but I don’t want to risk anyone loyal to the priest overhearing. “Thank you. What should I do with the soiled clothing?”
“Leave it. The acolytes will launder everything for you.”
She’s still not making eye contact.
“Oh, I couldn’t let them do that! Just show me where the wash basin is, and I can take care of it my—”
“No!” Her eyes jerk up, wide with fear. “Please, Cara, don’t. Just let the acolytes do it.”
Why would she be afraid of me doing my own laundry? Does Father Aron have that strong a chokehold on this place? I force a smile, not wanting to further upset her. “All right. Perhaps I’m just tired. Let’s find my room.”
Sable nods and leads the way. All I want to do is reach out to her, to tip her chin up so her eyes meet mine and see that she’s okay. This meek, frightened Sable is far too much like the one I met in the woods, and I don’t much care for it. I want her to have some autonomy, to be her own woman. My hands clench into fists at my side, and I struggle to keep from growling in anger.
My room, if it could be called that, is located in one of the farthest outbuildings. A small wooden cot lies in the corner of the closetlike room, with a chamberpot next to it. High on the stone wall, too high to reach, is a small barred window. A single candle lights the area, casting menacing shadows as it flickers.
The cells in the palace dungeon were more inviting than this.
I turn to Sable with a frown. “Are all of our people in such … close accommodations?”
She shakes her head. “No. The convent is full; this was the last room available.”
Well, at least I can hope the others are comfortable for the night. “And you? Where will you sleep?”
Sable points outside. “There’s a stable in the back. It has a loft. I’ll sleep there.”
That’s even worse than my room! I grit my teeth, biting my lip to restrain myself. “You’re sleeping in a stable? Sable, that’s nonsense. Stay here. The cot is small, but we can make it work. We can—”
“Please, Cara. Not right now. Trust me.”
With that, she turns on her heel and hurries down the hall. I slam a fist into the wall next to me, scraping my hand on the rough stone. All that progress, gone in an instant! I have half a mind to seek out Father Aron and give him a piece of my mind about this. Caution wins out over anger, though, and I remind myself of how skittish Sable was when we first met, how averse to touch. If I push the priest’s buttons, he may take it out on her. I couldn’t do that to her. Better to bide my time and play the hand I’m given.
I won’t forget, though. So long as I have my wits about me, I’ll remember how she was treated here. One day, when I’m back in my rightful place, I’ll make sure Father Aron doesn’t cause anyone else to hurt like that.
