Knowing there is nothing I can do here to control such matters, I move past my wallowing and make my way towards the small patch of delicate violet flowers at the back of the room. I look at the lack of harvest for the upcoming full moon.Cardinal will not be pleased.The fairy’s breath is a favoured ritual ingredient among the priestesses during certain moon passages. Now, with its dwindling reserve, it is only supplied to the high priestess herself.
I suspect this latest batch will not be enough for her needs. I will have to stretch it as usual. The real challenge will be the next full moon.There is every possibility this precious flower will not grow back after this. Each rhythm I trim the flower heads, less and less return.
“Dove, over here.” Kestrel stands in front of our last orange tree, a shrivelled orange ball in her hand. “This is the last of the citrus fruits.”
I want to tell her we are lucky they have lasted this long, but the words will not breach my lips. Taking the shrivelled piece of fruit from her, I look up towards the sliver of suns peeking through the grey clouds above.
It’s time.The words swirl around in my head. I know what I need to do.
“Did you hear?”
“There’s an announcement from the high priestess.”
“I heard she’s on her way from the king’s residence now.”
News travels fast among the temple servants, and as I enter the kitchen to drop off my produce from the afternoon trek into the greenhouse, I find conversation steering towards Cardinal.
The smell of freshly baked bread consumes me as I slip through the older women who stir large pots of soup, my tummy grumbling.
Placing the yield from my harvest in a basket opposite the women, I listen intently, invisibility my secret power within these walls, hoping my hunger does not give me away.
“She will be here before the two suns retreat below the ocean.”
“I heard the news is about Prince Castor.”
“There’s only one thing this could be about.”
My body stills as they discuss, the carrot hovering in my hand over its remaining friends below. At the mention of the prince, my whole world starts to spin on its axis.Not Castor. Please not Castor.
“Child, make yourself useful and bring me those carrots.” The woman with lines wrinkling her face squints as she crooks her wooden stirring spoon at me.
The glare breaks my fog, and I hurriedly grab the carrots and bring them to her.
“Goddess, child, sometimes I wonder if it’s not just your voice but also your hearing,” she chides.
I have lived with these women since I arrived on fallen knees as a small girl, and none of them took it upon themselves to help raise me. I did that all on my own. As long as I could cook and clean, my fate was solidified.
They barely have a maternal bone in their bodies, which explains their utter lack of care for me—probably their jealousy, too.
I am the youngest. The only one of them who did not arrive as a discarded spinster, cast out by the rules of society to serve the Goddess until their crossing of the veil. Vitality and youth are still on my side. Each rhythm they look at me, all they see is opportunities misplaced.
Maybe I would feel a shred of sympathy for them if they gave me an ounce of respect, but it’s hard to sympathise with people who beat you down each turn.
Placing the four carrots that I managed to secure from my very sad garden bed beside her, I’m careful not to make eye contact. Life is easier when I don’t engage with the monsters living within these walls. It’s like they crave a fight, the opening to take a chunk out of me. But I know better than to aggravate the women I work alongside. I quickly bustle out of the suddenly cramped space, my feet taking me towards the place that fills my stomach with a swarm of bees.
four
Dove
Smoothing my dirt coveredapron, I notice the dust give way and suppress the sneeze trying to worm its way out of my nose.
Taking a sharp breath, I hold tight as I hurriedly brush away the remaining particles clinging to the haggard material. Luckily, I am at the back of the crowd, so no one will notice.
Who am I kidding? Nobody ever notices me. Why did I even come to this announcement?The swarming in my belly makes itself known as I clutch at it.That’s right. Him.
I couldn’t let go of what the women said in the kitchen. My feet brought me to this place, and here I stay, within the shadows untilthe crowd starts to fill up. Ignoring my duties, unable to barely inhale. The only smell lingering through my breath is the small sage fires, lighting the outer cropping of the receiving room except for my blackened corner.
So, here I wait, fingers clutching a dusty and soil-stained pinafore, a jittery sensation spreading through the crowd around me. Whipping my head up, I see the tops of finely spun yellow hair move towards the front of the room—the high priestess, Cardinal, and her son, Prince Castor.
