more of an indentured servant, she was even paid for it. It wasn’t required; in fact, it was very rare. But Nero insisted.
A few people were sitting around on break, sipping wine or eating hunks of bread from a platter in the center of a table. “Lucius. Avita. Look alive. We have a party to plan. Nero thinks he’s found ‘the one.’ Again.”
The room groaned.
Hope stood in the back garden of the temple, enjoying the summer sun’s warmth on her skin. She was resting against a palm tree. She enjoyed the sound of the fronds creaking overhead. They weren’t native to Rome, but the city brought them in to be planted around the city regardless. A status symbol, she assumed. She was told they looked spectacular and were a far cry from the native trees that grew in their area.
The sound of water flowing through a fountain nearby soothed her mind. She had paced her quarters for several hours before venturing outside to walk the gardens. She left the side of the tree and its creaking fronds and walked along the pathway again. Her bracelets vibrated in patterns to alert her of the nearby benches, walls, and other objects. Without them, she would have to rely on a cane. This was a far more discreet and far more convenient method of navigating her world. The technology of the East Wind Dominion was second to none, and she was grateful to own them.
She joked that the temple only bought her the braces because the tapping of a cane on the marble floor would be irritating in such a giant and echoey space. But she knew the Mother Arkhiereus was fond of her. She always had been. Hope knew it was exceedingly rare that someone with a gold chain around their neck ever reached her rank. Slaves were not given positions of power. She touched the pendant and toyed absentmindedly with the tassels that hung from the end. She always fiddled with it when she was lost in her thoughts.
The chain she wore was one of the nicest that could be made, she was told. The more expensive the chain, the more valuable the slave. The gold was smooth beneath her fingers. It was several thin, delicate chains wound together to make a broader rope. The pendant in the center held the mark of the temple. Her owner. But it was designed to be replaced with another, should that day come.
Should she be sold.
But even in such an instance, the value of the chain and its adornments belonged to her. The necklace was part of her in a legal sense. Like her hand, or her arm, or anything else. She was worried about the conversation the Cardinal had with the Mother Arkhiereus.
Nero’s words haunted her. Everyone has a price.
The Mother Arkhiereus valued her. The temple valued her. But…only up to a point. She wanted to argue with the Cardinal’s words. She wanted to claim he was wrong, and that some things were above purchase. Some loyalty went deeper than even his endless coffers would allow.
But the chain around her neck spoke of a very different reality.
Everyone has a price.
And hers had been chosen by the people who were supposed to have loved her the most. Her family. She sat on the edge of the fountain and reached down to trace her fingertips through the chill water. It felt lovely. She wanted to go swimming. She would do that later, in the evening.
She heard steps approaching. Judging by the whisper of clothes and the gait, she knew who it was. “Hello, Mother Arkhiereus.” She stood from her seat and bowed her head in reverence to the high priestess.
“Hope, I am glad to have found you. Come, let us walk.”
This is not good. Dread welled in her heart as she fell into step next to the older woman. The high priestess of Hera was not an overly sympathetic woman. She was hard. Calculating. Austere. Many jokes were made that she was the avatar of Hera herself given flesh. But the Mother Arkhiereus, Sidonia, had always been kind to her.
They walked in silence for a long time until Hope could take it no longer. “Is this goodbye, Mother Arkhiereus?”
“Astonishing. You have always been so perceptive. Always so quick to intuit the world around you. I have always wondered if the gods took your sight and gave you other senses instead.” The older woman sighed. “Yes, my dear child. I am sorry.”
Hope cringed. She stopped. She