“It felt so empty when you left, with only us three here. So much quieter without you and...” Nessa shook her head. “I’m really glad you’re back.”
“I hate that I wasn’t around to help. After.” I admitted.
“How you could have allowed yourself to fall prey to such a vulgar crime is beyond me,” Jessarian cut in, proving to everyone present that he never had a clue what was going on.
Just like everyone else. Like we intended.
“And then to raise the spawn?” He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “Ludicrous. Thank the Devourer the Ascendancy restored sanity and brought swift justice.”
Mama squeezed her wooden spoon so tightly that her hand trembled. The building tension in the room ate away at me like slow-acting poison. Jessarian looked between Mama and Papa, a vaguely puzzled crease on his brow. For someone with such impeccable manners, his social-awareness was nonexistent.
Pulling from the depths of my self-control, I grasped for something civil to reply with that would change the subject, distract him, or lighten the mood. “How have you been?” I asked around a mouthful, unapologetic when a bit of something green fell from my open mouth back onto my plate.
Jessarian’s eyes tracked the movement of the food fallout, but I was almost disappointed when he didn’t react. His sneer of a smile rubbed at me like a shriveled sponge. “Quite well! Father assures me I’m advancing well in my Priest service training. Come this time next year, I see no reason I should not be fully ordained.”
Of course, can-do-no-wrong Jessarian would be a perfect pious Priest like his father in no time. Priesthood was the third-highest position of authority in the Ascendancy, just below Cardinals and Prelates. Positions governing Mesmoria as part of the Ascendancy were limited and highly coveted, but nepotized legacy would guarantee Jessarian’s spot.
I winced as I maneuvered the spoon around the bandage on my finger, trying to scoop up mayapa marinade for my next bite of fish. I hated mayapa, but coconut would be too sweet to eat with fish, and the fish was too dry without sauce. Giving up on using my dominant hand, I switched the spoon to the other side, clumsily spooning sauce onto the fish. Jessarian didn’t notice my discomfort.
“As expected,” Papa chuckled, smiling at Jessarian.
“I’d love to hear your first sermon,” Mama added.
“Of course you’re all welcome to attend any services I perform.” Jessarian adroitly sliced his fish into equal sized bites. It felt like he was doing it on purpose to antagonize me. “Given my performance in training so far, I’m sure they will be exceptional. My first sermon should be around the start of the new year.”
Nessa smirked, waving a forkful of food at me. “By then, you’ll be a Voyager.”
“If she qualifies, and doesn’t wash out before midterms,” Papa muttered. Mama nudged his side with her elbow, glancing at me.
His lack of confidence cut like a serrated blade to the gut.
“Don't forget your prayers and common sense; between navigating the miasma and facing the lifeforms living in the deep, you'll need both,” he continued.
Mama sighed, rubbing at her forehead. “I always hoped you’d enter Cultivation service with Nessa, so you both could look out for each other. The Voyager training requirements are so difficult, and it is such a dangerous service.” She pressed her lips together.
Like I have any control over it.
Papa took a gulp of his water. “That’s not in her Tide. She’ll make it if she trains rigorously. Do well, even, if she works hard enough.”
Nessa scoffed. “From the looks of you, I’m not sure you need any more training,” she said.
“Becoming a Voyager is out of reach for a lot of people. Maybe even me.” I admitted. “I’ve met a lot of Apostates who won’t qualify, much less graduate as Voyagers. It would be better if we could choose our own service.”
It would be better if I chose anything about my own life.
Dread rolled like a barbed nettle in my stomach at the reminder of my mandatory entry into the Mistrun tomorrow.
“Well, you’ll just have to keep training yourself down to only the leanest, tenderest meat for the miasma fiends to snack on,” Nessa said. I jabbed her in the ribs and she jabbed me back.
“Really though…” Nessa gestured at my entire body with her fork. “You’re not exactly the shrimpy little thing you were when you went into the Reformatory.”
My spoon clacked against the plate as my appetite abandoned me. “It takes more than physical strength to graduate.”
Doubt haunted the corners of my mind. School had repeatedly and frequently calcified the fact that I was uniquely insufficient when it came to traditional learning. And my endurance wasn’t much better.
“I know you never wanted this service, Lili,” Mama started. “But I’m sure the instructors are very patient. You won’t be the only Apostate in the Voyager outpost.”
No, every Apostate who’d been released in the last year and qualified tomorrow would be there with me, including Yeshar. Vegetables raced laps around my plate as I pushed them. “Yeah, just the dumbest.”
