‘Ris, please, let me explain.’ Morna grabs my sleeve and looks at me imploringly. ‘We all work for the Bastion, whether we like it or not. That was one of the Temple Mothers. She brings me books and I give her information.’
‘What kind of information?’
‘About the children.’
I pull away, disgusted. A filthy little snitch. The Bastion always knows when touched children exhibit their first signs of magic. Andnow I know why: because people in their own communities sell them out.
‘I’m not proud of what I do, but I do what I must,’ Morna says, voice hoarse and desperate. ‘They make better lives for so many of those girls. They give them power and opportunity they never would have had otherwise.’
‘Do Ligaya and Narra know?’
Morna turns pale.
‘No, you would never tell them you’re betraying their kind. Were you going to do the same to Biba?’
Morna is on the verge of tears. ‘I swear, I would never do that to you. I only tell the Temple if the kids would have a better life there. It’s what’s best for them.’
I shake my head at her. ‘Who gave you the right to decide? You need to tell Ligaya and Narra everything, or I will.’
chapter twenty-three
finlyr
I’ve had too muchpalm liquor already. It’s not helped by the fact I’ve barely eaten anything. It’s like a feast day, where all the fancy dishes are laid out, but you can’t touch them ’til the family’s gathered. Aistra, that was my first temptation, and I failed every single time, sneaking a sticky sweet treat when my parents’ backs were turned.
A spread of pies, rolls, and sweetmeats diverts my attention. Cakes piped with violent purples, petal crimsons, blush pinks, sunshine yellows, deep blues. Narra reminds me of my father, an exact location for every dish.
‘Let me guess, you only like weddings for the food,’ Ris says, batting my hands away.
‘You’ve already branded me a cynic. In my experience, the more expensive the wedding, the shorter the marriage.’ I smile.
The happy couple descend from the upstairs rooms, dressed in their finery. Ligaya is wearing a patterned robe with long bell-shaped sleeves, the material bedecked with embroidered vines. Morna is wearing a fitted blouse with capped sleeves and a flowing skirt. There’s a glimmer where they’ve woven golden thread into their hair. Doubtless Ris gave it to them as a gift. Despite myself, I get a bit misty-eyed.
The couple gasp at the decorations and beam at the guests, admire the food. It’s sort of nice being part of this collective project, despitethere being only a few well-kent faces. The women take each other’s hands and stand under the banner of flowers I tattered my fingers to assemble. It does look very nice; you can barely see the bloodstains on the thorns.
Narra stands, holding a weave of white linen.
‘We have a couple. We have cake. We have guests. A few words and seal it with a kiss.’
‘Ligaya,’ Morna says, looking into her partner’s eyes. ‘I didn’t think love could hit me as suddenly as an Umasan season change, but life can surprise you.’
A ripple of laughter dashed with sobs and lumps in throats.
‘Whatever happens next, there’s no one I’d rather be with than you.’
Ligaya’s voice wobbles. ‘You’re such a wordsmith. It’s partly why I fell in love with you, Morna. Through the salt and the sweet, I would be yours and by your side.’
Cheers and applause roar through the room as the newly-weds kiss and embrace. They exchange the Paranishian token of union: moon talismans. They hold the talismans as Narra wraps the weave around their joined hands. A sealed bond. They hope for life. We throw flower petals, and everyone comes forward to them, enveloping Ligaya and Morna in warm hugs. And finally, there’s food.
‘I’m happy for them,’ I say, as we sit and eat.
‘I think it’s beautiful,’ Isagani says, rearranging some wildflowers in a vase, they’re making a vow to each other. A promise that they won’t ever leave.’ The kid’s voice shakes, and I look at them, blinking away their tears.
I nudge them gently with my shoulder. ‘I’m not going anywhere without you.’
‘You better not,’ they say, shaking it off with a joke.
Ris thrusts a mug at me, a sparkle in her eyes. ‘Quench my thirst?’ she asks.
