nods. “Those robes are too long. You are going to hurt yourself. Have someone hem them.”
“Yes, Luca,” she whispers.
The girl is only an initiate. She can still fail at serving the temple. She can still change her mind and go home.
The girl walks slower to the south wall, where three more have gathered to restore Queen Shannon’s mural. The original painter captured the queen exceptionally well. Her black eyes peer out of the wall, focused and intent despite the rain and storm that obscure the lower half of her face.
“She was always my favorite,” Mirabella says. “Queen Shannon and her storms.”
“One of the strongest. Until you. One day your face will eclipse hers on the wall.”
“We should hope not,” replies Mirabella. “None of these murals depict times of peace.”
Luca sighs. “Times are not so peaceful now, with decades of poisoners in the capital. And the Goddess would not have made you so strong if you were not going to need that strength.” Luca takes her by the arm and leads her around the southern dome.
“One day,” she says, “perhaps after you are crowned, I will take you to the War Queen’s Temple in Bastian City. They have not murals there but a statue of Emmeline—bloody spear above her head, and arrows—suspended from the ceiling.”
“Suspended from the ceiling?” Mirabella asks.
“A long time ago, when the war gift was strong, a war queen could move things through the air, just by the sheer force of her will.”
Mirabella’s eyes widen, and the High Priestess chuckles. “Or so they say.”
“Why have you asked to see me, High Priestess?”
“Because a task has arisen.” Luca turns from the mural and clasps her hands. She walks north, toward the Goddess’s altar, and Mirabella falls in beside her.
“I wanted to wait,” she continues. “I knew how tired you would be, the day after such a spectacle. But try as I may to keep you young, and to keep you here with me in this quiet place, I cannot. You have grown. You are a queen, and unless your gift has expanded to stop time, the Quickening is coming. We can no longer put off the things that need doing.”
She puts her soft hand on Mirabella’s cheek. “But if you are not ready, I will put them off anyway.”
Mirabella places her own hand over Luca’s. She would kiss the old woman’s head were the priestesses not there watching. No High Priestess has ever shown favor to one queen as Luca has to her. Or caused such scandal as to leave their chambers in Indrid Down Temple and install themselves closer to their favorite.
“I am ready,” Mirabella says. “I will happily do whatever you require.”
“Good,” Luca says, and pats her. “Good.”
The priestesses walk Mirabella far out beyond the temple grounds, through the evergreen forest and toward the basalt cliffs above the sea. Mirabella has always loved the salt air, and enjoys the light breeze, and kicking her legs out fully in her skirt.
When they came to claim her from the temple, they did not tell her what they wanted. Priestess Rho leads the escort, so Mirabella thinks that it is probably to go on a hunt. Rho always leads the hunts. Every initiate in the temple is fearful of her. She has been known to strike the ones who displease her. To be a priestess is to have no past, but Mirabella is certain that Rho possesses the war gift.
Today, though, Rho is grim and sober. The priestesses carry their hunting pikes but have brought no accompanying hounds. And all the good game runs are far behind them, deeper into the woods.
They reach the cliffs and continue on to the north, farther into the rock than Mirabella has ever gone before.
“Where are we going?” Mirabella asks.
“Not much farther, my queen,” says Rho. “Not much farther at all.” She taps the priestess to her left. “Go on ahead,” she says. “Make sure all is ready.”
The priestess nods and then runs up the path to disappear around a corner.
“Rho? What are we doing? What am I to do?”
“The Goddess’s bidding and the queen’s duty. Is there ever anything else?” She looks over her shoulder at Mirabella and smiles meanly, and her hair peeks out from under her hood, bloodred.
The fall of their boots is loud against the stone and gravel, but it is steady. None but the girl tapped to scout ahead will go any faster, no matter how Mirabella tries to change their pace. She quickly stops trying, feeling the fool,