Rowenna gave an awkward shrug and not quite a smile. “Suit yourself.”
Red-faced, Ilys shuffled faster, catching up to the girl. They moved through the dim passage like ghosts, footsteps fading into slate.
“Being quiet is good,” Rowenna said, “but if a priestess passes, don’t linger near me.”
Ilys nodded, ever eager to please.
Far from the temple’s ornate wings, the lesser hearth tucked into a soot-dark alcove. Rowenna knelt with practiced ease, stacking the kindling with quick, sure hands. Ilys stood off to the side, unsure what to do.
“You can sit,” Rowenna ushered without looking up. “If you want.”
Ilys lowered herself heavily, knees brushing ash. “Do you do this every night?”
“Most nights.”
“Do you mind?”
“It’s warm,” Rowenna replied, adjusting the wood with practiced precision.
Ilys inclined her head, though she didn’t feel the warmth yet. She looked down to her hands, trying to smooth her fingers flat.
“You’re quieter these days,” Rowenna remarked after a moment. “Last time we spoke, you were smaller and wouldn’t stop talking about rabbits.”
A small laugh of exasperation escaped Ilys, along with a flush of heat to her cheeks.
“In here you can make conversation.” Rowenna raised an eyebrow. “The priestesses don’t bother us here.”
Ilys grappled for words, a newfound self consciousness strangling her vocal chords.
“Well.” Rowenna reached for a pouch tied at her waist and tugged it open. “Then I guess I will make noise for both of us.”
She held out two flat gray stones, fitting snugly in the center of Rowenna’s palm.
“Toss marks,” she said. “You know it?”
Ilys shook her head.
Rowenna pointed to a faint crack in the wall. “We aim for that. Closest wins. The winner gets to ask a question.”
“What kind of question?”
“Any kind.” Rowenna’s left eyebrow arched once more, a thick brown caterpillar of a thing. Ilys welcomed the sight; she tucked the mannerism close, a souvenir of familiarity. “But I’ll keep it fair. No Veilwalker secrets.”
Ilys teetered, then bobbed her head avidly before urging her body not to give away just how pleased she was to make a friend.
Rowenna tossed first. The stone clicked against the wall. Close, but not perfect.
Ilys’s stone missed wide. She winced.
“Try again,” Rowenna directed.
The next few tosses were closer. Rowenna landed one just shy of the crack and grinned. “That one is mine.”
Ilys managed half a smile. “What do you want to ask?”
Rowenna’s mouth curved, theatrical in her delivery. “Who do you find the most pleasing to look at?”
Ilys stared into the fire, thinking hard. She was new to this sort of game and still learning the rules, uncertain what counted as an answer.
