dress.
She drops her head into her hands, too tired to stand. Certainly too tired to take down tents and return to Indrid Down. To face the council and pretend that there is anything left for her to do.
The tent flap opens, and High Priestess Luca walks inside in her white robe and black collar. Natalia straightens, but it cannot be news of Katharine. If it were, Luca would have sent someone to fetch her instead of coming by herself, with no escort.
“High Priestess,” says Natalia. “Please. Come in.”
Luca half turns and makes sure that the tent flap is closed. Then she raises her nose and sniffs.
“This tent, Natalia. It smells like dying dogs.”
Natalia purses her lips. The familiar hounds brought to her after the Quickening died messily. There was no time to assemble a tidy poison. She used what she had on hand, and they convulsed and vomited on the rugs and pillows.
Luca takes down the hood of her robes and unfastens her collar, showing off a wrinkled neck and fine, bright white hair.
“I must depart soon,” she says. “For Rolanth and Mirabella.”
“‘Must,’” Natalia says with bitterness.
“A small contingent of priestesses will remain here. They will search until the little queen is found.”
For a moment, the two women regard each other. Then Natalia gestures to the chair opposite her at the small table.
Luca snaps her fingers and has a pot of tea brought in. When they are settled, and alone again, she sighs and leans back wearily.
“One of the delegations has fled,” Luca says. “The dark one, with the red flower in his jacket. His family was superstitious. They said this generation was cursed.”
“This was not a terribly successful Beltane,” says Natalia, and Luca laughs, once.
“If only we had taken that brat’s head and arms when we had the chance.”
“If only your Mirabella had let us.”
Luca adds cream and two lumps of sugar to her tea and sets a thin baked biscuit on her plate.
“There is no poison in it,” Luca says wryly of the tea. “Perhaps you can squeeze that snake of yours into your cup.”
Natalia smirks and then sips. “What can be done about Arsinoe?” Natalia asks.
“What about her?”
“She attacked the queens before the end of the Quickening. Before the Ascension Year had begun. It is a crime, is it not?”
“A violation by a day. It was a show of strength, whether we like it or not. The people will push back if we punish her publicly.”
“What good is the temple if it cannot enforce its own laws,” Natalia grumbles.
“Indeed,” says Luca. She takes a sip of tea, and eyes Natalia over the rim of her cup. “That lovely Gave Noir that you set,” she says. “All that poison, fallen into the sand. I snuck a bit of it into one of my priestess’s dinner. And oh!” Luca’s face lights up briefly. “She lived! She did not even sicken. Unlike those poor dogs you dispatched. What did you give them, Natalia? Arsenic?”
Natalia drums her fingers against the table. The High Priestess raises an eyebrow.
“Do not whine about our weakness now,” says Luca. “When we are only what you have made of us. When it is you who have turned the people away.”
“If the people turn away from your preaching, then it is not our fault. We have never sought to impose council will on the temple.”
“No,” says Luca. “Only to silence our voice.” She studies Natalia quietly. They have been adversaries for many years but have spent little time alone together, and never when they were not battling over something.
“It is strange,” Luca says, “that you have turned away from the Goddess. When she is the one who creates the queens. Whose power on this island preserves our way of life. I know,” she says when Natalia rolls her eyes. “You think it is you. The strength of your gift that keeps us safe. But who do you think gave that to you? She is the source of this thing you revere, yet you do not revere her. In your pride, you forget that she has given and that she is the one who may take it away.”
ROLANTH
Looking out the window of the bouncing coach, the streets of Rolanth are strangely quiet. The city expected Mirabella to return in triumph. Now that she has not, there is an air of loss. Shops in the central district have pulled down most of the Beltane decorations, though a few modest ribbons and wreaths remain. She was not exactly beaten, after