The pews are wide and practically empty, but as I move towards one of them, ready to take a seat, I pause, my attention stolen by a priestess. She is standing by the altar, dressed in a white robe, the edges trimmed in gold. I watch as she turns, and I realise it isn’t only the colour of her cloak that’s wrong, but the iridescent, pearl-like stone set in her forehead.
‘Rose,’ Kyor whispers as he sidles up to me.
‘I didn’t realise Etta’s priestesses wore a different colour in Galreck,’ I murmur, my voice as hushed as his, despite how few people there are to disturb.
‘They don’t,’ he says. ‘This isn’t Etta’s temple.’
I frown, ready to tell him that has to be wrong. After all, I was drawn to the building, and I’m blessed by Etta herself. It isn’t hard to put two and two together. Yet as I look around me, I slowly realise he’s right.
There are no symbols of the Goddess of Life, no sign of her spiral, the mark of the ever-flowing act of life.
‘Whose—’
‘Oel,’ he answers my question before I even finish it. ‘This is Oel’s temple.’
I stare at the altar. Oel. The God of Order and Logic. Why would I have been drawn here? None of my family have ever worshipped him. Not that I know of.
Goosebumps rise along my arms as I stare at the ring on my finger, unsure and unsettled by its presence and effect on me. It drew me here, and it was Mother’s ring.How many more secrets do you have, Mother?
How many more that even Dinah did not know?
Well, I am here, and it would be rude to walk out without sayingsomethingto Oel.
I genuflect. “Thank you,” I murmur to him, “for clear thoughts in moments of stress.”I hesitate before adding silently,If you could help me see what I should do about Kyor … that would be great.
There. That would do.
Aware of the weight that is suddenly bearing down on my chest, I spin around. ‘Come on. We should go to the last inn and see if there is room.’
‘What about Etta?’ Kyor asks. ‘Do you not want to find her temple?’
‘I’ll go in the morning,’ I tell him. ‘For now, we need a room.’ The ring is silent on my hand. I have done what it required of me, though I have no idea what exactly that is or why I had to do it.
As we walk out, there is no pull from the ring, no push to go in a certain direction, so we continue to the inn as planned.
The possibility of us finding somewhere to sleep is looking increasingly less likely as we arrive and are greeted by the sound of more heavy beats.
‘Fucking drums,’ I mutter as we make our way across to the bar. My mind is still whirring with the scene in the temple. That sense of peace I felt inside has very much gone, and in its place is a new sense of nervousness. Perhaps worship of Oel and Etta takes place in the same temple in Galreck, I consider, only to dismiss the thought. I am reaching. Hoping to find an explanation as to why I was drawn to that place, but I’m not going to find one. Not this hungry and tired.
‘Good evening, we were just?—’
‘If you’re going to ask if we’ve got a room, the answer’s no,’ the woman says beforeKyor can even finish his sentence. He presses his lips together, preparing his next line, only for her to beat him to it. ‘And it doesn’t matter how big a tip you want to offer me. The prince himself could walk in right now and offer me every pair of his pretty silk underwear, and I’d still tell him I don’t have space. I can’t create more rooms.’ She bustles off, visibly harried by the overwhelming crowd.
‘Well, that’s me told,’ he says, looking at me with a smirk, though it falls almost instantly. ‘It’s your call. We can keep trying if you want. Or … stables?’
Neither of us wants to sleep in the stables, but the more we’ve walked around, the more I’ve seen Kyor start to flag. His right shoulder has been jostled by the crowds on the streets more than once, and he’s gone white with pain every time.
These last few hours walking through the city have also tired me out more than the entire journey combined.
We have no choice now, I think, looking at his pale skin. He needs rest, and if that ends up being on a pile of straw … well, it’s better than the wooden pallet of the night before. Marginally.
‘Maybe we should?—’
‘Commander?’
Kyor and I turn around simultaneously, but while I have no idea who we’re looking at, the same can’t be said for Kyor, whose face cracks into one of the widest and most genuine smiles I’ve seen in a long time.
‘Ryne?’ He says it as if he can’t believe it’s true. ‘What are you doing here?’
