‘Biba is a child,’ I snap. ‘She has no idea what she wants.’
The silence is thick until it becomes so stifling I must crack it. ‘It’s only a matter of time until they come for her. If I had any doubts, tonight has taken them away.’
I look over to the map, to the Winter Isle flung out furthest from the mainland. They say you can’t see it until you’re practically on land because of the mist that surrounds it, an unsettling haar, which gathers around the temple like a shroud. They commune with the dead there, living a life detached from the rest of Paranish – one devoid of bonds and community in the traditional way. They are the Bastion’s obedient servants. In theory, it is a great honour to be gifted, but try telling this to grieving parents whose child is being stolen in the middle of the night. Visitors are forbidden at the temple. Once they take them, they are no longer yours. They are theirs.
I swallow hard. ‘Do I have any other choice but to do as the queen asks?’
‘You’ll need to find someone who can read that,’ Vullis begins tentatively.
I can understand a map’s shapes, but it means nothing beyond that.
‘You could try Umasa.’
I blow out air from my cheeks and then cry out as the pain becomes too great. Ryla pats me on the back as I weep. The broken skin on my face stings, and I examine it through puffy eyes, gently touching my swollen jaw. I’ve never been a dainty beauty, but it will be a few weeks before I can see what kind of permanent damage Salvacion has done.
‘Salvacion really fucked up my face.’ I try to laugh, then sob again.
‘You look like the wrong end of a sheep,’ Ryla teases, eliciting another painful laugh.
Vullis, ever the host, begins to build a fire. ‘We’ll stay here tonight, Ris. Whatever you need.’
‘Tomorrow, we can make a plan. Tonight, you rest,’ Kopiro gives me a sympathetic look, his eyes gentle and brimming with tears.
‘Thank you,’ I say, holding each of their gazes.
A glint of light in the corner catches my eye. It’s a sliver flash, shining for a moment and then gone. The softest creak of wood I recognise as the bedroom door closing. Another thing to deal with in the morning.
Fuck it, let Biba see. The world is full of violence and broken things, some of them at her own hand. She’s not some frightened little bird I must protect. She is growing up faster than I ever dared to believe.
chapter twelve
hanan
Malostra’s been coldwith me, wearing scarves to prayers until the bruises fade and acting like nothing happened until we’re in our room. Then it’s a silence, hanging thick and loaded. Our beds are pushed against their separate walls, the distance between them an ocean of space. I don’t think she knows how to articulate what happened, but something snapped inside Malostra. I have tried to apologise but she says she doesn’t believe me. I don’t know what to say to that, what I can do to show her it was simply a step too far.
At least having Malostra ignore me makes it easier to focus in classes.
I make my way out of the temple and into field, clutching my woollen cloak close to me. The field is flat and barren of trees, with the wind too wild for anything other than the mighty Tree of Life to withstand, and it is partly sheltered by the temple’s courtyard. The plant life out here grows close to the ground, and I take the worn path around the rows of hardy vegetables and admire the brief clearing that shows me the silhouette of the mainland in the distance. A cluster of buildings that make up Umasa, our nearest port town. It looks so close and yet the waters churn ice cold and inhospitable, with nowhere to safely dock lest you get splintered on the rocks. I shiver and hurry to the stone shelter where I can see the rows of Sisters in their long dark cloaks, huddled around the dirt plots of the moredelicate herbs and vegetables. Even once inside there is little respite from the wind. It may do a decent job protecting the crops from the elements, but it does little to shelter us.
‘Today, we focus on plant lore,’ Mother Lin announces. ‘We will be dissecting and studying the properties of our garden and meadow.’ Her eyes roam over us. ‘What are the main crops that thrive in our climate?’
‘Leeks, parsnips, kale.’ Nusi’s face is young and eager. She keeps her hair shorn so she can commune better with nature. She’s really taken the suffering-as-strength edict to heart. She beams at Mother Lin’s nod.
‘And who can name three uses for this herb?’ Mother Lin holds up a sprig of lavender, crushing it gently and sniffing it.
‘Sleep, fertility, and pain,’ Malostra says.
‘Elaborate,’ Mother Lin encourages.
‘Tinctures and tonics – you could create a salve—’ Malostra stumbles, trying to get her thoughts in order. The wind whips up our cloaks and dresses, and we break out in audible gasps at the cold.
Mother Lin gives a tight smile; clearly, she, too, is ready to get back inside. ‘That is correct. Your task, Sisters, is to create a remedy for abdominal pain. It must be effective, but gentle. Mother Joca and I will judge your efforts and decide the most satisfactory remedy. You have three hours.’
Our cloaks billow around us as we stream into the field and scatter across the isle. Malostra and I eye each other, veering as far away as we can. She goes off in the same direction as Sister Nusi and her friends, and now everyone knows that something is amiss. The women sneak glances at me, heads tilted close as they whisper against the wind. No matter. I will forge my own way, as I always do.
I find my favourite cove on the south side of the isle, my own private sanctuary where I go to hide. It is a great unburdening, when the waves drown out my screams. I’ve been here more often recently, sitting on a piece of driftwood I dragged here years ago, staring out at the ocean. Strange things have washed up on shore: cargo from foreign trading ships, translucent fish, and most recently a dead otter-cat. Today I’m not here to clean up the debris or rest in quiet contemplation. My place has its useful secrets.
On the edge of a cave, I find the sad, almost bare branches of a sea buckthorn. I grasp the prickly stems firmly and pluck the last orange berries, placing them gently in my pocket.
