I would have rather died by Zara’s hands than like that.Please, Etta, don’t let me die in this place.I keep the words in my head, where only the Gods and I can hear.
The drumming in my chest and ears drowns out the sound of my footsteps as I take my place upon the dais.
Her eyes glitter with recognition, but the High Priestess’s words are lost to me. I already know her instructions, so I kneel, arms outstretched, jaw clenched, breath held. An instant later, the tip of the dagger pierces the top of my hand – the uninjured one.
As the blade is plunged all the way through my flesh, I wait for the pain to hit, for the reality of the wound to sink in, but there’s nothing.
Even as I feel the knife withdraw, it’s little more than a sting.
The priestess dismisses me, and I stand, turning to walk back to my place. There’s no light-headedness, certainly no gushing of blood, and my feet are as steady on the sand as they were when I walked up. Probably more so, given that my knees are no longer trembling.
I’m in.
Really in.
Etta has accepted me twice, and now there’s nothing between me and the gifting – except the other Rettlings and the five trials, that is. A flurry of hope flitters through me, and for the first time, I lift my gaze to the spectators gathered within the Sunken Temple.
Tiers upon tiers of people stretch upwards, rising like a mountainside. There must be a thousand, if not more, and yet out of all the people there, my eyes fall on one face.
She’s seated in one of the lowest levels, close to the action, her hand covering her mouth. Her white-blonde hair is no longer dulled from the grime of the slums, but clean and blindingly bright.
Kay.
Any pain left in my body evaporates. I don’t know how she’s here. Or if she really is. Perhaps I’m hallucinating? Could this be a trick of the dagger? Or a blessing from Etta? Right now, I’ll take either.
I smile at her, and she drops her hand from her mouth and beams back, her fingers toying with Mother’s ring, spinning it on her finger in a sure sign of stress. It’s loose, but she is somehow dressed in finery like any other courtier, and if she’s here with Lord Lorathin – as I desperately hope – then she must be being fed well. Perhaps the ring won’t spin so easily soon.
Kay is here, and I can hardly believe it. I struggle to focus on the rest of the vows, but I force myself to do so. At the very least, I can bear witness.
Two other Rettlings die the same way as Jai: the young woman from Wrohelm called Pen, whose touch blisters, and Orwen, a knight. It’s hard to understand why the Goddess accepted the offering of their tears, only to now find them unworthy. Maybe it was just a numbers game. Who knows?
When the last Rettling is inaugurated, the priestesses stamp their feet in unison, andallof the spectators vanish as one. I can’t even begin to imagine the kind of power it takes to undertake a portation on that level, but as a number of priestesses sway and drop where they stand, I know it took a lot.
I didn’t even get a chance to speak to Kay or wave goodbye to her, but it doesn’t matter. She is safe. That’s all that matters.
I’m grateful when Estel chooses another carriage to ride back in, though it doesn’t change the silence that consumes ours. When Benny finally breaks it, I wish he hadn’t.
‘I never expected to lose Jai first,’ he says quietly.
‘Death was expected. Coulter’s fate was not,’ Loch responds. ‘Was it fifteen or seventeen? Did anyone count?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Jonas says. ‘It depends if they count the contractions as one word or two.’
My eyes remain trained on my feet, and silence swells again. Deathmay have been an expected part of this process, but none of us imagined it would come so soon to someone like Jai.
Finally, Benny sighs. ‘He’s nineteen. He’ll see it through, and when he comes out of the Sunken Temple, we’ll be waiting for him. Waiting to give him the life he truly deserves. I promise you that.’
I don’t raise my head to see if anyone nods in agreement or even see if Benny really believes what he’s saying. There’s only one thing I’m sure of now: when Coulter finally gets out of there, he won’t be the same person we knew.
It’s only when the sunlight starts filtering through the skylight in the carriage that I notice Jonas’s hand is on my knee. I’ve no idea when he put it there, but I don’t bother moving it away, even as I lean my head against Llinos’s shoulders and shut my eyes. Sleep doesn’t come, but Kay’s image does, and that’s the best I can hope for.
‘We should go to the healers,’Jonas says hours later when we arrive back at the High Hold. ‘I heard Zelle and Holden telling people to head straight there to tend their wounds. How’s yours?’ he adds to me.
‘Fine,’ I reply truthfully. ‘It didn’t hurt. Not really.’
I glance down at the faint line on the back of my hand. Somehow, it’s healed more than the one Zara reopened on my palm.
‘What the hell?’ Jonas’s eyes widen as he twists around to the others. ‘What do yours look like?’
