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Julie

Secrets and Lies

Atli Örvarsson

“Is it true that she has to take her clothes off?” I heard Amber's disgusted voice echo through the park.

It was not often that I wandered through the gardens behind Moenia. Probably because I did not feel drawn here in the same way as the Earth Quatura, even though the grounds were well maintained and there were plenty of places to retreat to in the form of black Victorian wooden pavilions between the tall hedges, or the small and gigantic glasshouses from the founding era filled with flowers, medicinal herbs and other greenery. The places where mostly Earth Quatura Discipulus were trained by their Oraculi.

“Amber, it's part of the ritual,” Grace sighed, and then they stepped around the hedge, dressed in their black robes, on their way back to the main house.

Both Earth Quatura were coming from their lessons with the younger Quatura – Novices, and new Discipulus who needed to be introduced to the Tenets of Moenia. But that didn't explain why Vivienna was walking beside them in her grey Air Quatura robe.

“It's her own fault if she spreads her legs for the first guy she meets and is too stupid to use birth control.”

Her withering gaze met mine, making me stop in my tracks. Or was it her words?

Amber grinned and pulled Vivienna past me.

Only Grace stopped, looking at me with pity.

The winter wind whistled through her brown corkscrew curls, but she didn't fit into the snowy landscape. Not like I did.

I realized they had probably needed Vivienna to remove the snow, which was a monumental effort for an Air Quatura, but essential as long as there was no Fire Quatura in the Circle. Additionally, tradition dictated that one must practice in nature at least once between full moons.

Grace's chest rose and fell heavily, then she turned away from me.

“Grace,” I whispered, feeling as if my words were being carried away by the wind.

Yet she stopped, though she did not turn to me.

“Please...”

She wanted to move on, already taking her first step.

“I don't want this.”

Those words had burned in my throat when I had learned what kind of ceremony I would have to undergo in a few hours. And they still burned, causing me to leave traces of ice on the railings and furniture all over the house.

Grace turned to me.

“Haven't you been so unshakable lately?”

After I had vomited this morning, I had emptied three vials of Salma. A mistake, because now my limbs were shaking. And even though I was numb inside, sharp-edged fragments of emotion escaped me from time to time without me being prepared for them.

I had taken an overdose, yet the Salma didn't seem to be able to wipe out all my emotions.

What really worried me was that, on normal days, even the usual dose no longer seemed to be enough. As if the Salma was losing its effect. As if I needed more and more.

I didn't want to take any more. I wanted to stop... For the baby.

A painfully warm tear left my right eye.

I was a bad mother.

Grace sighed.

“This ritual is crazy,” I croaked, letting out even more emotion, and I felt the damp ground beneath our feet freeze, causing Grace to look down. “They want to terrorize me.”