Page 102 of A Sweet Destruction

By the time Bellamy began to ask Brother Stevenson about their methods in speaking with God, I’d made it through the first book. I kept my posture easy, like I was simply flipping through pages in fascination, but not actually taking anything in.

In reality, I was searching for very specific words. Mentions of the Bond or Matches or Marks or anything that would suggest that it was common on Muli for people to be born with a tattoo tying their soul to someone else.

I was playing a mental game with myself, lobbing arguments back and forth over a net in the center of my mind. My instincts were telling me that there was a gaping hole in our understanding of Muli and all evidence was pointing to the fact that the Bond didn’t exist—yet—here.

Another part of me was deeply hesitant to believe that fact, if not from a great deal of fear of what it meant.

Bellamy’s voice saying the word paranima nearly made me jump out of my skin. Whatever flinch racked my body was covered by Ford placing a hand on my shoulder, then sweeping my hair out of the way and down my back.

I looked up at him, at the small smile on his face. The little crinkle next to his eye was as equally familiar as it was foreign. I remembered every smile, but they were few and far between.

That was simply unacceptable. I liked his smile.

I gave him one back, soft and encouraging. His hand stuttered in its path down my back.

“When I speak to my father” Bellamy was saying, “I’m also going to be speaking to his Head Priestess. I’m sure she’ll have questions for me, especially in the realm of Marks. Our process is still quite painful.”

Not quite a question, and centered on sharing information of our own—even presenting it as a weakness.

Brother Stevenson’s face stayed as it was. If theirs was as simple a process as being born with a Mark, you’d think there would be the slightest edge of pity there.

It was Elijah who spoke up. “Your people have said that for years, but never quite describe what you mean. A little pinprick or…?”

Anndddd one point to Elijah. His own way of trying to get information on our process. I wondered how the experiments to replicate the procedure on Muli were going.

“Like plasma from a volcano was injected directly into your veins. Like every muscle in your body separated from itself at the same time. Not a little pinprick.” It was words I’d once said, but spoken from Freya’s mouth. Of course, she was saved from such pain, having had it since birth.

Much like we were told occurred on Muli as commonly as brown-eyed babies were born.

If that wasn’t true, Freya was even more rare than any of us previously thought.

A muscle twitched in Elijah’s cheek. “A pity, then. Do you not think that to be a sign that you should have stayed where you were instead of forcing your way onto a planet not your own?”

“What my cousin means,” Caspian cut in, a rare note of authority in his voice. “Is that we’d never thought the Marks to give us the ability to Cross. Until your arrival, as you know, we did not know the Bridge existed nor how to utilize it.”

The same conversation we’d had many times over. Despite the increased tension in the room, Bellamy simply smiled and said, “As I’ve said many times before, I cannot change what was done in the past by my Father. No more than Soren can change what his father did while he was Emperor. Nor any children of the Devereauxes or the Astors before him. Part of what I want to do is take the pain out of this process. It is clearly able to be a natural part of life, a pure gift from the Goddess.” I prayed someone corrected her, made our lives easier. “We want it to be the same for our people. I already plan to explain to my father and the priestesses, but it would be helpful, Brother Stevenson, to carry a few words of wisdom with us back to the planet your God stewards over.”

Brother Stevenson looked entranced, his commitment to his faith fighting against what he’d been instructed. My eyes dropped to the second book in my hand once he began speaking. “Of course, we’d want to share. We are the children of our beloved gods, and with that comes an entirely selfless love. One of a parent, dedicated to the well-being of their child.”

I really hoped a sermon wasn’t in store. I was disappointed.

Brother Stevenson went on about the loving relationship between God and the Goddess and how it was not at all playing favorites to have them stewarding over one planet—that was exactly why there were priests on Muli and priestesses on Vir.

By the time he got to the meat of the story, I’d finished yet another book with no mention of Matches or paranimas beyond a passing reference to a deep knowing one might have when meeting the person our deities had determined we would partner with for life. “I think it’s natural, really, that on Muli the Marks are with you since birth. The Goddess often provides her clearest signs through new beginnings. A sort of childbirth in itself, if you will. Our God is at times more pointed with his messaging. I am sorry it is so painful. Has it always been that way?”

Ah, he was good. I could see why Elijah and Caspian would have chosen him, why they were even willing to introduce us to him in the first place.

Bellamy sighed dramatically. “Yes, I’m afraid. Though we didn’t have the benefit of time. I would hope that if Marks had started to appear naturally, like they do here, it would have also been from birth. Remind me how long Marks have been presenting for?”

Come on, I begged silently, tell us something.

“Oh,” Brother Stevenson said. “That estimation is beyond my years. For—”

He was cut off by a loud crashing sound from behind us. As hardened as we all were, everyone had turned before the first note of the man’s yell was complete.

Another brother of the priesthood was holding a patron away from us by the waist, restraining him as he pointed a finger towards our group. “Get those trespassers out of here!”

The priest was struggling, far too slight a man to be restraining someone the size of the patron. His cry for help, and Brother Stevenson’s answering shout, drowned out most of what was lobbed at us next, a comman for us to go back to where we came from.