At least I was not the only one who found the journey agonizing. There was a strange comfort in that. Garrick made climbing through snowy mountains look like an afternoon jaunt to the sea.Bastard.
“Don’t they let you sleep?” His eyes were lined with the same exhaustion I knew must mar mine. Thankfully, mirrors were not in abundance in the temple.
“Someone must be here to greet arriving supplicants, no matter the hour.” Tomin nodded back toward the doors. For the first time, there were no guards.
I swallowed down that information. I truly could walk out those doors, and no one would stop me. It would be between me and the gods.
“I volunteered,” Tomin said, interrupting my thoughts. “I like the temple best like this.”
I lifted my brows, looking pointedly to the ominous, bubbling blood fountain. “Creepy?”
Tomin’s face remained neutral. For half a breath, I thought I’d offended him, a feat I’d previously thought impossible. I didn’t want or need friends, I reminded myself. But on my exhale, his mouth slashed into a wide grin, his freckles dancing in the low light.
“You are a witch,” he laughed. “Isn’t creepy your purview?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have a coven to cast any powerful spells,” I said. My chest tightened. Witch ways were not to be shared.
But Tomin merely shrugged.
“You are not afraid of me,” I said softly.
Again, a shrug. The nonchalance of youth, I realized. And mortality. In some ways, things mattered more, with so little time, but in others…
“You have never threatened me,” he said. “You are a supplicant, the same as the others.”
We stared into the darkness of the blood fountain. This time, I kept full control of my mind. Even so, it was only the night and the darkness that allowed me to admit, “I do not want to be.”
I felt Tomin nod beside me. “Few do, anymore.”
“I want to leave.” Admitting it out loud made it sound every bit the pitiful plea that it was. I could not leave. The gods would punish me with death. Kyrelle would die in that seaside town, the gold I’d given her wasted on a father who would never do what was best for her. Wasted for love.
Tomin did not argue one way or another. He stood with me in silent understanding. He was young, but age could mean so many different things in a world of immortals and gods. PerhapsI’d misjudged him. He was not a newly minted acolyte, but one nearing his final rites.
He only spoke when I turned to look at him, wearing my confusion on my face. “I cannot offer answers. But I can try to help quiet your mind.”
I did not laugh at him, though the impulse was there. It would have been easier than accepting his offer.
“Are you allowed to help me?”
He shrugged. “There is no specific provision against it. The acolytes have two roles—assist the priestess and serve the supplicants.”
That did make me smile. “What about serving the gods?”
He grinned again, bright despite the darkness of the temple. “That, too. By serving the supplicants on their quest to prove themselves worthy and lift the curse, I serve the gods as well. Satisfied?”
“I am not the one you need to convince.” I looked pointedly at the altar over his shoulder.
His smile softened as he held out his hand.
Only days ago, he’d reached for me at the Mercy Gate and I’d angrily shook him off. Now, he extended his hand to me. Me, a witch. One who’d been unkind and cranky and downright murderous.
What must it be like to have that kind of goodness inside your soul and actually be able to act upon it and fulfill it? To have suffered, like Tomin had, like I had, but instead of turning to… whatever I was… remaining whole?
I could not help myself. I wanted to know. I took his hand.
Tomin led me away from the blood fountain, outside the ring of benches, toward the perimeter of the temple lined with altars. Unlike the other two temples, this one boasted no windows. Carved directly into the mountain, the only light came from the flames burning on each altar. Instead of stone bowls onpedestals, the altars were carved into the walls of the temple itself, a shallow depression at the bottom housing the flames. There were no offerings at the foot of the altar. Few supplicants made it far enough to leave them.
But around each inset altar were intricate stone reliefs carved into the mountain. I’d barely looked at them when I first arrived. In the low light, they were difficult to see. Maybe that was part of the trick, to draw you in closer to the altar.
