“Why did you take the mask?” I ask once we are alone.
“To sell it. My little sister needs tonics from the apothecary and good food to eat, or she won’t make it through the spring. I… We can’t afford to heal her.”
The truth rings out in his voice, and I clench my fists. No more than twelve, and he’s already the provider for his family. The capital has changed for the worse in recent years.
Being young and poor, he probably had few options to raise the money for medicines. Although I am from the Southside of the capital, I know all too well what it’s like to not have choices in this world.
“I see,” I say. “And that was the sole purpose? Just to heal your sister?”
“And to buy a meal for myself at the taverna.” His cheeks color with shame, but doing good doesn’t mean you have to be selfless. The weight of a good deed is measured alone.
“You know that stealing from the elite carries heavy punishments?” I ask. “And that it is wrong to steal? The act of stealing is predicated on a lie.”
He slowly drops his head in a nod. “I know. But I had to try for Tria.”
There’s so much love in the two syllables of his sister’s name that my heart squeezes.
“I believe you,” I say. Then I look past him and gesture to a temple guard.
The guard strides over. He salutes me and stands ready. He must’ve overheard all of this, but he is expressionless. If I asked him to whip this boy, he would do so without hesitation. The boy stares at the guard’s tall frame covered in steel and leather armor, and dread flashes in his eyes.
“Give this boy three gold coins and have the cooks feed him supper,” I say. “He is welcome to remain in the temple until we shut the doors at nightfall.”
“Great One, I am not worthy,” the boy says. But he doesn’t hesitate to pocket the money the guard hands him. It will more than cover the tonics.
I reach out and rest a hand on his shoulder. I can feel the hollows between his bones under my palm, and my stomach twists. “You were truthful in this temple, and that is what matters. We are all worthy of forgiveness when our hearts are pure. I hope you can heal your sister.”
He falls to his knees in tears, and I bless him, signing over his head with my hand as I saw Father do all my life. The guard escorts him out of the inner hall as the boy praises my name.
“A million thanks to you, Excellency. May all of Pryor see your goodness and know your generosity.”
I exhale. I suppose that’s better than them knowing the truth.
“Your good heart will be your downfall, Kera,” Priestess Mirial says. She stands to my side with her arms folded. I’d startle, but I’m used to her moving on silent feet. Her chin-length gray hair is perfect as always, her lined face in the permanent scowl I adore. “He’ll talk, and we will have brats trying for sanctuary from now until the next solstice.”
I shrug. “There are worse things.”
Mirial harrumphs, but ever since the death of my father and my subsequent elevation to High Priestess a few months ago, she doesn’t question me.
“Indeed, there are,” she says. “Come with me to the divining room?”
I nod.
“Here I thought you were going to lecture me about not being ready for the Revelry,” I say as we walk around the pool and down the narrow hall in the rear.
The afternoon light is already dimming, and I will need to bathe and dress before the celebration begins after sunset.
“That, too, but this takes precedence,” she says.
A chill crawls over my shoulders—something is wrong, because little is more important to Mirial than punctuality and decorum.
I discreetly clutch my sleeves in my hands, holding myself together, as I’m always being watched. We pass servants and acolytes in the halls, and they bow to me. Luckily, I have experience hiding how I feel, so no one looks twice as we turn and climb a set of winding stairs.
The inner sanctum of the temple, the holiest place, is the divining room. With an oculus open in the gilded, domed ceiling, we use this space to commune with the gods and foretell the future from the livers of sacrifices. One such sacrifice, a bronze-colored eagle, lies cut open on the marble altar.
When I was younger, I used to hate that my father had to use dead birds for prophecy, but he pointed out that all creatures die, and omens are a divine blessing. We see the future while most of the republic dwells in the past.
But whoever did this sacrifice nearly butchered the animal.
