Priestess Mita scowls at them. “Though we’ve never allowed outsiders to stay here, we’ll make an exception for the prince’s companions.”
I step forward to defend my friends, but Pons answers. “Your hospitality is appreciated.”
The priestess snubs him with nary a glance. “Kindred, your companions must remain out of sight from our temple wards.” She means Pons and Indah. She cannot keep me locked down here. “As should you, Your Majesty. You’ll find everything you need in your chamber. One of our sisters will bring your meals. When would you like the recipients of age shown to you?”
“Shown?” Ashwin questions.
“He hasn’t come for a Claiming,” I snap. On the temple floor above us, girls of all ages, from infants to eighteen-year-olds, train to become whatever their benefactor claims them for. The girls of age are shown to the benefactor so he may select those he desires.
Priestess Mita’s confused gaze bounces to me. “Then why have you come?”
“The prince wanted to survey our temples,” I say. “I offered to accompany him.”
“But you didn’t bring our supplies.”
“No,” I start hesitantly. “We weren’t aware you’re expecting a delivery.”
“We haven’t received goods or necessities in over three moons. Surely the brethren must know of our shortage. I’ve sent them several letters.”
The Brotherhood temples send a supply caravan every other new moon. They must have stopped once the rebels infiltrated the imperial city. With the empire in disarray, the Sisterhood temples have been forgotten. The Samiya temple is the farthest away from Vanhi and the most secluded. They must be running dangerously low on reserves. Except for a garden that is now snowed over, the sisters and wards are dependent upon the generosity of benefactors, who provide food and clothing in exchange for the privilege to come and claim wards.
“We were unaware of your circumstance,” Ashwin says. “I’ll remedy your shortage of supplies in haste.”
I cannot puzzle out how he intends to fulfill his pledge, but his swift assurance appeases Priestess Mita.
“Will you please show us to our chamber?” Pons asks the priestess. Indah has not spoken since we landed. She sways some on her feet, her pallor worsening by the second.
“Right this way.” Priestess Mita bustles to the door that leads to the corridor.
Pons lags back. “Can we trust her, Kalinda?”
“She may be rude, but she won’t harm you.” I rub Indah’s arm. “Go rest.”
They follow the priestess out, and a thought strikes me. I need another room as well. This chamber has only one bed. Priestess Mita must assume Ashwin retained me as his kindred. Sleeping in the same chamber with him would be disastrous. I need only catch a chill during the night and seek out his comfort . . .
My throat heats to an itch. “I’ll ask Priestess Mita for quarters of my own.”