And yet, of all the possibilities crashing through my mind, that horror ranks as only second worst. Because, for all that I don’t want to be mated to a heathen fae, I want to fail my goddess even less. And that’s what cutting my hair would be—a failure. A betrayal.
After all, I’ve read about moments like these, in the Book of Disciplines. About how the goddess tries our faith. How she presents us with temptation, then allows us to choose.
I’ve faced such temptations before, each time I’ve lifted the scissors and contemplated my reflection.Just a little snip, I’d think.A simple, innocuous tidying of the ends.
But that’s how betrayal always begins. With people telling themselves they’ll only indulge this once. Just a single, forbidden drink. One tiny, illicit touch. A meaningless promise broken…but then comes the next, and the next, and the next. What starts with a spark soon flares to a wildfire. One that, once lit, proves impossible to extinguish.
My sisters’ expectant stares probe at me, the moment threatening to combust. This is a temptation. Atest. One in which a single misstep can drag my entire life off-course.
If I cut my hair, what’s next? Will I neglect my prayers tomorrow? Fail to take the robes? Maybe I’ll surrender to the baker’s endless pleas and let him kiss me. And oncethatimpurity starts to feel comfortable, maybe I’ll let him do other things. Worse things. I’ll make a long, slow slide into immorality and never recover.
All because I cut my hair.
I meet Brynne’s glare, my chin lifting. “Of course I don’t want Amriel to choose me. But I trust in Ishanna. In her plan for me.”
Her look turns sharp, digging toward the place where I house my softest secrets. “Plan? What plan?”
I mash my lips together. I’ve never told her about my aspirations to become a priestess. I’ve never told anyone. That quest feels fiercely personal, a promise forged within the privacy of my own prayers.
Brynne’s eyes narrow. “What’s this really about, Sariah? Your vanity?”
I recoil. How can she accuse me of something so sinful? “No. I’m notvain.”
Her stare doesn’t waver. “Is this about taking the robes, then? About you playing at being a priestess, even though you want it for all the wrong reasons?”
Her words land hard, driving me back a step. “I… Who said anything about being a priestess?”
“Come on.” Brynne scoffs. “Do you really think we don’t know? You’re desperate to earn your Grace. To stop embarrassing this family. You’ll do whatever it takes to convince Ishanna to grant you your magic. Even if it means pledging yourself to the temple.”
“Brynne,” Evelyn hisses. “Leave her alone.”
Brynne snorts. “What? It’s true. Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”
I try to swallow, but the thickness in my throat prevents it.Brynne is just scared, I tell myself.This is her fear talking, nothing more.
But the poison just keeps flowing from her lips.
“But just so you know, Sariah, if you were as faithful as you think, if you were evenhalfas devout, Ishanna would’ve Graced you already. The fact that she skipped you means you’re not special, and you don’t have her favor. So take the scissors. Cut your hair, like the rest of us.”
I blink hard, trying to banish the phantom fears Brynne has summoned, but they swirl in the silence, snatching at me with cold fingers.
Maybe my sister is right, and I’m an embarrassment. A stain on the Vandenore name. It’s not like I haven’t wondered myself, when I lie in the darkness and probe at the hole in my chest where magic should dwell.
And yet I can’t bring myself to believe Ishanna has abandoned me. If so, then why did I feel her touch this morning? Why did she whisper in my ear about how life is on the verge of opening up for me?
No, I believe. I havefaith.
I force the lump in my throat to settle. “You know what? You’re right—I do want to be a priestess. More than anything. But not so I can bargain for my Grace. It’s because I believe in Ishanna. Because I know every word in her Book is true. And I don’t just want to read those lessons, I want tolivethem. I want to dedicate myself, and follow a path of purity, and yes—I want to let my hair grow, like a priestess. Just because I haven’t pledged myself yet doesn’t mean I haven’t already given myself to the goddess. Deep down, in my heart, I did that years ago.”
Brynne makes a frustrated sound. “But your hair means nothing right now. Pledges don’t count until you make them.”
My jaw flexes. “They do for me.”
She scoffs. “You’re going to get yourself Claimed, acting like this.”
Something unpleasant swims in my belly, but I force it down. “I won’t. Ishanna will protect me.”
Brynne hisses. “Oryou should cut your hair, just to be sure.”
