Earthen

By J.A. Stowe

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Chapter 1

My bare toes curled in the cool soil of the temple garden. Life surrounded me. Hundreds of tiny thrums of mana that beat with my own.

I smiled at the familiar feeling of my magic. A flaring spark in my chest, like a lit match in the darkness. It spread through my body, creeping across my skin like ivy, and I released it on my breath.

The garden erupted all around me. My magic filled the earth, seeping into the roots. The faint thrums grew into a torrent of drums, beating an eternal rhythm.

I set off in my prayer dance, tracing a path through the trees that dripped with tangled vines. My fingers skimmed the ridges of leaves and the softness of flowers. Firm ground pushed against the soles of my feet, carrying me deeper.

Earth magic healed and nourished. It was fragile blossoms and enduring stone. It was ancient roots and budding growth. It was life.

The heavy skirt of my dress brushed the grass as I twirled. I stopped suddenly, and it twisted around my legs.

My chest heaved as I surveyed the renewed garden. The forest grew taller, the leaves brighter, reaching toward the scattered sunlight. Flowers unfurled, filling the garden with bright colors.

All shaded by the great tree. Eldrassyl.

Blood-red boughs arched from the giant, twisted trunk, spreading for miles over the land. It was as if the Ancient herself grew from the earth and stretched her arms, sheltering her people from the vicious storms that battered the coast.

I tipped my head back and inhaled deeply, savoring the sweetness of flowers, chased by the acrid scent of medicinal herbs.

To anyone else, the temple garden would look like an overgrown woodland, but I knew every plant like the Ancients knew every soul. I'd nurtured every flickering heartbeat into a steady pulse.

I knelt at a bud. Some plants only grew on temple grounds, feeding on the mana that seeped into the soil from the sacred wellspring deep underground. I caressed the bud, sending a trickle of magic through my finger, and it unfurled into a black flower the size of my palm.

The skadi flower.

I pinched a petal, plucking it off. Its onyx surface was like velvet, swallowing the sunlight that touched it.

"Planning a murder?" A deep voice startled me.

I spun around, clutching the petal to my chest.

A man stood at the base of one of the pale heila trees. His soft copper hair fell in waves to his shoulders. The top half was braided from his face and secured with leather cord.

He wore the armor of a sentinel, flexible and light. Embossed patterns meandered over the leather surface, faint and worn with use. A dark cloak wrapped his broad shoulders.

I willed my heart to slow as I inspected him. For such a large man, he snuck up on me easily.

People didn't come to the temple gardens often. Which was just how I liked it. After the previous groundskeeper died, I'd taken on his responsibilities.

I realized I'd crushed the flower in my grip. I forced my hands to relax. "The skadi petals have pain-relieving properties in small doses."

He regarded me with smiling gray eyes. "I'm Taron."

"I know." I stuffed the skadi petal into my herb pouch on my belt. Taron's smile flickered.

He was a sentinel priest, one of the few priests trained in battle with the other sentinels. But that wasn't why every elemental and druid in the east knew him.

He was the wolf priest.

"Do you need something?" I wiped my palms on my dress, smudging the white cloth with dirt.

He scratched at his short beard, a shade darker than his hair. "Yes, actually. High Priestess Wynra requested ..."

He trailed off as the woman herself appeared on the narrow path to the temple. She looked out of place amongst the wild growth. Her velvet dress caught on twigs and stems that seemed to reach for her.

Behind her was a tall priest, though he'd traded his tailored robes for a more practical shirt tucked into pants. The plants parted as he walked, as though it was afraid to touch him.

He regarded the garden with apathy, but his expression hardened when his gaze landed on Taron.

I took a steadying breath as they approached. Sylas was difficult to get along with at the best of times, but he seemed to be in an especially sour mood today if his especially deep scowl was anything to go by.

He looked down at everyone. Not just because of his irritating height, but with a haughty nature explained only by the importance of his sole-birth.

"High Priestess," I greeted Wynra with a bow of my head. I rarely had a single visitor to the garden, but now there were three. One of them being the most powerful being in the east. My brow furrowed. "Did something happen? Is Valen—"

Wynra held up a wrinkled hand. "Valen is fine. Still resting on your orders."

My shoulders relaxed a fraction. The Consort had been ill for months. An illness that wasn't improving, regardless of my treatment.

"It's a life entering the world that needs your attention." Wynra adjusted the intricate circlet holding an uncut black gem on her forehead. "Lettia has fallen into labor much earlier than expected."

I smiled. "I'll get my bag."

My visits to the villages were the only times I could leave the temple grounds. It was a brief taste of freedom. A taste of the life I might have had if things had been different.

Taron cleared his throat before I could run.

"These two will be joining you," Wynra added.

Taron smirked while Sylas grumbled.

"What?" I asked, my eyes flitting between the two. "Why?"

"The roads are dangerous. They will be your protection." Wynra turned, deciding that the conversation was over, and began walking back down the overgrown path.

Sylas's sage green eyes crawled down my body, taking in my dirty dress and bare feet. His lip curled with disgust.

"That's hardly necessary." I followed Wynra, smoothing my wavy hair. Some of the emerald locks had escaped my hasty bun and tickled my neck. "Kaldfjell is only a few hours' ride away. I was there just last month."

Eund ceremonies were one of my favorite duties, but I didn't want to travel with a man I barely knew and a man I wished I didn't.

Wynra kept walking, shaking her head. Gray threaded through her braid, nearly skimming the ground. "Elementals are disappearing."

"The daeva have returned," Sylas said in a low voice.

Taron caught up to walk beside me. "Sentinels guard the temple, but the villages and roads are dangerous for a priest."

"Then why are you sending him?" I pointed my thumb over my shoulder at Sylas.

"Because I can collapse a mountain with a snap of my fingers." Sylas scoffed. "Not all priests are as helpless as you."

I pressed my lips together, but I couldn't argue with him. I'd only used my magic to tend the temple garden and in ceremonies. I'd traveled to other villages for healing and eund ceremonies, but my life as a priest had been sheltered by Eldrassyl.

Wynra sighed heavily, spinning so suddenly that I nearly ran into her. Sylas's warmth appeared at my back. The fabric of his cloak brushed my bare shoulders.

"This isn't up for negotiation, priestess," Wynra said. Her tone wasn't unfriendly, but its emphasis was clear. I was a priest, beholden to the temple and its leader.

"Don't feel bad," Taron said as we watched Wynra walk the rest of the way to Eldrassyl. The temple was nestled among its roots, some chambers carved into its colossal trunk. "She used the same weapon against Sylas."

"Not all of us are happy to babysit." Sylas's breath stirred my hair, making me realize he was still at my back. Far too close.

I jumped away and Sylas narrowed his eyes on me, displeased.

I quickly shifted my gaze to Taron. Something about this whole situation felt ... off. "But she didn't have to use it on you?"

"I'm happy to help a fellow priest." Taron's answering smile did little to settle my nerves.

"Right. I'll just ..." I glanced over my shoulder at my cottage on the hill across from a wide stream. "I'll grab the supplies."

I jogged down the path to the water and across the stone bridge. My cottage was modest, to say the least. Moss covered the damp wood, and vines crept over the foggy windows.

I'd converted the main room to an apothecary. A fire crackled in my brick fireplace, simmering the tincture I'd been preparing that morning. I hurriedly searched my cluttered shelves for eund seeds and the ingredients I needed for the blessing paint. The sooner this ceremony was done, the sooner I could go back to being alone.

I startled as two shadows appeared. I expected them to meet me at the stables, but apparently they were taking their duty very seriously.

Sylas didn't hide his displeasure at my home, opting to stay in the open doorway.

Taron had followed me in. He propped his shoulder against the wall. "Why don't you live with the other priests?"

His question paused my frantic hands. Priests typically lived in the temple. It would have been easier for me to stay there. I'd have attendants at the ringing of a bell, hot meals at any time of the day. I'd have luxurious rooms with silk sheets and hot water pumped to my washroom from the thermal spring.

But as soon as the old groundskeeper died, I moved into his neglected cottage.

"I did live in the temple when I was younger." I lifted my leather pack from what used to be the dining table, finding the pouch of eund seeds below it. I stuffed them into the pack alongside a potion for pain. "I didn't quite ... fit with the others."

Sylas dragged an impatient hand down his face. "That's an understatement."

I shot him a look before I hefted open a chest and pulled out a vial of dark red liquid.

Sylas hadn't been exaggerating when he spoke about his power. His magic was only matched by that of the High Priestess. Which was why some expected him to ascend as the consort of the next high priestess.

I snuck glances at him as I reached for one of the hanging pots. I plucked leaves from a thistle plant and began crushing them in my mortar. If Sylas did ascend as the next consort, I felt bad for whoever the next high priestess would be.

I popped the cork from the vial and scraped in the leaves and liquid from the mortar.

Taron sniffed the air, his brow furrowing. "Is that blood?"

"Yes. From a sacrifice to the Ancients." I closed the vial and rolled it to mix the ingredients. "You've never attended an eund ceremony?"

Taron scratched the back of his neck. "I'm more sentinel than priest."

I let myself really look at him while I finished my work. He wore armor, seeming more comfortable in the leathers of a sentinel than the fine robes of a priest. Though he was always on temple grounds, I'd rarely seen him inside the temple. His druid mark, a tilted crescent moon, decorated the side of his corded neck. His arms were crossed over his chest, his skin tanned and muscled.

I slid the vial into my pack. "You don't want to be a priest."

He blinked, surprised, before his posture stiffened. "I—"

"It's okay," I said a little softer, hoping Sylas couldn't hear. "I get it."

I moved past him, slinging my pack over my shoulder, but stopped at the tall obstacle in my doorway. Sylas showed no intention of moving. Instead, he frowned down at me.

"I'm sure you want to get this over with as quickly as I do," I huffed.

"You're right."

I raised my eyebrows at him, my question unspoken.

His sharp gaze descended, making my skin squirm under his biting scrutiny.

"You seem to have forgotten your shoes."

I cursed and spun, shoving on a pair of socks and leather boots.

"And a cloak. It always rains on the coast."

"Ancients grant me patience," I mumbled, but I went into my simple bedroom and dug through my closet, finding a worn cloak made of a soft black wool.

Now, fully dressed, I stood before Sylas.

"Anything else?" I kept my tone painfully pleasant. Which only seemed to annoy him.

Good.

"It'll do," he said, though the way he said it sounded more like "you'll do."

He finally angled his body so I could pass, but he didn't leave the doorway, forcing me to brush his chest to get by. A low growl sounded from behind me, but I was already walking. Whatever was going on between those two was none of my business.

I set off on the path to the stables. The horses were kept at the edge of the temple grounds, close to the village. Temple servants lived there alongside pilgrims and artisans. The thick forest thinned here at the edge, still tucked under the shade of Eldrassyl, but far enough away from the great tree that the wellspring's water didn't seep into the soil.

"I already ordered the stable boy to ready two horses." Sylas's voice was full of poison, though it wasn't directed at me.

"That's perfect," Taron responded. His tone was light, though there was tension there, like a rope pulled taut, about to snap. "I'll just ride in the saddle behind Ro. It'll make it easier to ... protect her when she's pressed against me."

I wrinkled my nose. "Now hold o—"

"Ro doesn't need your protection." Sylas seemed to grow a few more inches, his shadow swallowing me up as we walked. My mouth hung open. Where did this come from?

"Ro doesn't—" Taron began.

"Rowyn can speak for herself," I interjected, shaking my head. Perhaps this was a challenge from the Ancients. A test of willpower and restraint.

Sylas seethed at my declaration, but Taron just seemed amused at the entire situation. Like the whole thing was nothing but entertainment to him. Perhaps it was.

As we arrived at the stables, Taron gestured towards the saddled bay tied to a post. "Come, Ro, our steed awaits."

I left Sylas to what was certain to be an even-tempered response and entered the barn. A boy sprang to his feet from his seat on a bale of hay.

"Is there another horse I can take?" I asked. When he hesitated, I added, "I'm a priest acting on orders from the High Priestess."

He took in my worn cloak, dirty dress, and disheveled hair. "You're a priest?"

"I am," I tried to keep by tone from revealing the tension that was pulling at my shoulders. This was quickly becoming the longest assignment of my life, and we hadn't even left yet.

"Believe it or not, she is."

The boy's eyes widened as Sylas entered behind me.

"Get another horse," Sylas commanded. "Now."

The boy nodded and picked up a brush before disappearing into a nearby stall.

When the boy was out of earshot, I crossed my arms and faced Sylas. "You didn't have to be so rude to him."

"Fear is an efficient emotion." He approached until his chest brushed mine, forcing me to crane my neck to meet his eyes. "I thought you wanted to get this over quickly?"

His harsh gaze pierced me, like he saw every thought in my mind. Like he predicted my next move, and he dared me to surprise him. To give him the challenge he craved.

I took a step back, needing to get away from his stifling heat.

His face flashed with a mix of satisfaction and disappointment, caught between a smile and a grimace. Like he was pleased that I bent to his control, but disappointed that it was so easy.

Sylas had always been volatile, but for the majority of my life here, I'd been invisible to him. Not important enough to even draw his disdain. Why did he suddenly care?

I bit my lip. Care wasn't quite the right word for it. It was a revulsion, but also a strange possessiveness.

Sylas was a man of contradictions. He was meticulous in everything he did but he was exceedingly impatient. He demanded perfection, but was bored by it.

"I'm glad you agree." I smirked. "I trust you can catch up."

The green in his eyes turned poisonous.

I pushed past him, but he reached out, spinning me and crushing me to his hard chest. His hands were bruising around my wrist and against the small of my back.

A surprised yelp escaped me, which must have alerted Taron.

"Let her go." His voice was a growl behind me. "She's not yours."

Sylas's gaze never left mine. His eyes had darkened, but they didn't seem to look at me, but through me.

Taron ripped me from Sylas's hold, apparently no longer waiting for him to let me go.

Taron's arm wrapped around my shoulders, pushing me from the barn, but Sylas's response chased me, echoing on the cobblestone.

"Yet."

My heart finally slowed to a normal pace by the time we reached coast and the Kaldfjell came into view. The druid village was built into the side of a cliff, facing the sea. It mirrored elemental villages up and down the coast, but where elementals carved out the stone with their magic, the druids built modest cabins. Sun-bleached wood bent under constant storms, and thatched roofs sagged in the afternoon rain.

I blew out a deep breath. My lungs burned like I'd been holding it since we left the temple grounds.

The ride had been tense, making the two hours feel like an eternity. Taron and Sylas rode on either side of me, their attention drifting between the dark woods, each other, and me. I'd pulled my hood over my head when it started raining an hour before, though I still felt their scorching gazes through the thick fabric.

The shock of what happened at the stables had finally melted into confusion. My thoughts still raced, searching for a reason for their sudden intrusion into my peaceful life.

Sylas was always cold and volatile, but this was more than a spoiled priest throwing a tantrum. This was personal somehow.

Perhaps it was all about Taron. I pulled my hood from my face enough so that I could see him. His posture was relaxed, his body rocking gently with the movements of the horse below him.

They clearly had a rivalry. They were the two most powerful men in the temple. Sylas was a sole-born elemental with magic to rival the High Priestess, and Taron was a druid born with the fylgia of the wolf. The fylgja of the consort Ancient, Lupin.

Sylas only cared about power and status, and Taron was a challenge to both.

But why did I have to get stuck between them? Why did Wynra send me to perform an eund ceremony with the most caustic pair from the temple instead of a couple of perfectly pleasant sentinels?

"You're thinking awfully hard there, darling," Taron said, knocking me out of my spiraling thoughts.

He seemed to be the more level-headed one of my guard duo. Perhaps he'd sate my curiosity.

"Why didn't Wynra just send two sentinels with me?" I asked directly.

"You're not satisfied with my performance?" he replied. Taron pressed a hand to his heart, but his smile betrayed him. "You wound me, baidr."

My cheeks heated at yet another nickname. Baidr was a term of endearment in the old tongue. It literally meant bare edge, but it could be used to describe either a beautiful woman or an unsheathed blade. I wondered which Taron meant.

"You'd prefer an oafish soldier to a priest?" Sylas directed this at me, but it only seemed to piss off Taron.

"A sentinel recruit could cut off your dick and feed it to the hogs before you had a chance to tickle them with your dainty leaves, priest."

I sighed. I should have known better than to break the tense silence we'd settled into.

We rode through the village square, perched high above the ocean. Other than the renewed bickering from my companions, the village was quiet. The only sound came from the waves battering the rocks below.

I pushed my hood off and looked around. I'd visited Kaldfjell for every birth in the past two years, and it had never been quiet. The kids should have been out playing in the rain, releasing their animal spirits and wrestling in the fresh mud.

The village was raucous and spirited, even during burials.

"Something's wrong," I whispered to myself.

"What do you mean?" Taron asked. His posture straightened, his training kicking in.

I dismounted, and the two of them followed suit.

A woman appeared in a rain-splattered window. She frowned at us and pulled the curtains closed.

"It's too quiet." I chewed my lip as we began our descent down the path that formed steep switch-backs to the sea.

Lettia's home was along the road, nestled against the cliff face. We picked our way down the slick rocks.

Sylas and Taron shared a look, and for once it wasn't one full of vitriol, but one full of caution.

Churning sea mist wet my hair and caught in my eyelashes. Dread sank low in my belly as we rounded the sharp corner. A dozen druids crowded around Lettia's cabin, their expressions grim.

They didn't speak, but they parted, allowing us to pass.

My heartbeat quickened in my chest. Something was very wrong.

I passed my reins to Taron, who tied the horses to the curved trunk of a tree jutting from the cliff face.

I pushed wet strands of hair from my face with shaky hands and approached the cabin. The door opened suddenly before I could knock, and a large man filled the doorway. He glowered down at me. Deep wrinkles lined his face.

I greeted him with a gentle nod. "I'm Rowyn, a priestess from the temple. I'm here to bless the new child."

"There is no child," the man spat. I flinched.

"I'm sorry for your loss," I replied automatically, though his tone hadn't been filled with sadness, but anger.

"I'll—" I cleared my throat as my throat constricted around my words. "I'll tend Lettia, then."

"My daughter doesn't want visitors."

"I'm not a visitor. I'm a healer." I straightened as my voice gained strength.

When the man didn't budge, I felt Taron and Sylas move to stand at my sides. The man swore under his breath and stomped deeper into the cabin.

I followed him in, finding Lettia in her bed beside the hearth. Embers glowed from the dying fire, casting faint light into the otherwise dark room. Blood and afterbirth still soaked the sheets, but Lettia lay tangled in it, staring numbly out the window. I knelt beside her, dropping my pack on the floor and taking her cold hand in mine. She barely seemed to register my touch for a moment before the dam cracked. Sobs racked her body, but she turned away from me.

"I have something for you." I pulled the potion from my pack, placing it in her limp fingers. "It will ease some of your pain." I unstoppered the potion and wrapped my hands around hers, coaxing the flask toward her lips. "I will pray to the Ancients for your child's soul."

A fresh wave of sobs shook her shoulders, and she drew her legs to her chest. My hands curled into fists in my lap. I could treat physical injuries, but I didn't know where to start with this kind of pain. The priests taught me prayers and blessings, but at the moment, the promise of prayer sounded empty.

I was supposed to carry the mantle of the Ancients, to be their conduit in our world, but here I was powerless.

The sound of a baby's wails cut through the thundering rain that now battered the cabin.

I jumped to my feet, leveling wide eyes at Lettia's father. He stood across from me, his arms crossed and glaring.

"You said there was no child," Sylas growled.

I stepped toward the next room, where the cries were intensifying. "I thought the child had died."

"Worse." Lettia's father blocked me again, but it was my turn to glare at him. "The child is cursed."

I clenched my teeth. The people of the countryside were especially superstitious.

"Then let me give him the blessing of the Ancients," I said.

"It's the damned Ancients that cursed him!" The man's hold on his anger slipped, and so did his hold on his druid spirit. His pupils shifted to slits. "It was you who tended Lettia these past months." His tone shifted from explosive to a harsh whisper, lifting the hair on the back of my neck. "You brought the curse here."

His inhuman eyes narrowed on me.

"You are no priestess."

I stumbled backwards, hitting the bed's footboard, as he lunged.

Taron appeared in a flash, pressing his hand to the man's chest. Taron's gray eyes glowed like twin moons.

"Stop," he said. His voice vibrated through the stale air. The man froze, his muscles locked. "Step aside."

The man obeyed wordlessly, his movements wooden. I braced myself against the foot of the bed, watching them, and willing my legs to stop trembling.

This was the true power of the wolf priest.

"Bring the baby," Taron said louder, and another man emerged from the other room, a wailing bundle in his arms. The new man was younger. Lettia's mate, Ben. I'd seen him at the cottage before, when I'd visited Lettia during her pregnancy to treat her nausea.

Ben's eyes shone with unshed tears. A muscle in his jaw popped as he struggled against Taron's power.

"Closer," Taron commanded.

Ben swallowed thickly as Taron's will overtook him, and he stepped into the dim light of the main room.

"Don't touch it!" Lettia's father spat, though Taron's earlier command kept him rooted to the spot. "It's tainted."

I ignored his warning, approaching the newborn.

"He doesn't look cursed," I whispered. I reached my finger towards the child, and he grasped it, his cries finally quieting. "He doesn't feel cursed, either."

"He doesn't have a druid mark, priestess." Ben's voice cracked.

Taron drew in a sharp breath, and the temperature dropped in the room.

No druid mark. No fylgja. No magic.

No place in this world.

Lettia let out another choked whimper before she launched herself out of the bed. She clung to me. "Please, priestess. You must take him to the temple."

"Leave now," her father snarled.

I felt a large hand on my shoulder before it was wrenched away with a grunt of pain.

"It's the only place he will be safe." Lettia's fingernails bit into my forearms.

"There is a place for all at the temple," Sylas whispered. His breath tickled my ear. "You know better than anyone."

Taron rounded Ben's side. He pressed his mouth into a flat line. "It's best to leave the child with his clan. A life without a clan is worse than death. If a child is born without a fylgja it is the will of the Ancients."

Everyone's attention was on me. Their gazes burned into me, waiting for my answer. Sweat pricked my brow. I tried to pull away, but Lettia's nails dug deeper into my skin.

Lettia's father had been right in a way. Being born without magic in this world was a curse. This child was branded worthless and wretched.

In a world that saw power and magic as the Ancients' favor, a child born without magic was a sign of their wrath.

The temple would feed and clothe the child, but it was still a cruel fate, surrounded by magic and faith. A constant reminder of one's defects.

But I knew what happened to children without magic outside of the protection of the temple. Many saw it as a mercy to return the soul to the Ancients.

I took a steadying breath and ...

asked Ben to hand over the child. I would take him to grow up at the temple under the watchful eye of the Ancients.
pulled away from Lettia. Growing up at the temple as an orphan was no life. He needed to remain with his clan. His fate was in the hands of the Ancients.

Chapter 2

"We will take him." My statement came out threadier than I'd meant it to. I swallowed, wetting my dry throat and tried to push strength into my voice. "Ben, please give him to me."

A growl reverberated through the still air as another flash of lightning lit the room. Lettia released my arm and took a step back. Her wide hazel eyes flew to her mate. Ben shook his head, clutching his baby to his chest.

"Please," Ben's voice cracked. His shaking fingers stroked the bundle in his arms. "Just one more moment."

Lettia looked away. Locks of sweaty brown hair fell over her face.

"Here." I dug the jar of eund seeds from my pack and held them out to Lettia. "Plant his tree, and a piece of his soul will stay with you."

A shadow blurred in my peripheral vision, and the jar smashed against the floorboards. Lettia's father stood there, his chest heaving. My hand stung from the force of his blow.

"We will not take your cursed seeds." Spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke. "Leave. Now."

Sylas and Taron wrestled him against the wall. Claps of thunder swallowed Taron's angry commands.

"He's right," Lettia said. "The longer you stay, the more danger you're in from the rest of the clan."

I plucked a seed from the ground and squeezed it in my stinging palm.

"The temple is open to all." I kept my voice low, hoping only Ben and Lettia would hear me. I pushed an unspoken meaning into my words. They could visit him if they wanted to. "I will plant the eund tree and make sure he receives his blessing."

Lettia hung her head and hugged herself. "My father said there are rumors you were cursed by the Ancients, too."

I flinched. I hadn't been asked that in years.

"I was an orphan at the temple," I said. Many priests avoided me when I arrived. Some still did. "My magic didn't awaken until I was 16."

Her eyes shone as she gazed at me through her hair. "But now you're a priestess."

I smiled tightly at her. She didn't need to know the details. Life as a cursed child was certainly better than death, but there was a reason I'd opted to stay in a crumbling cottage rather than live with the other priests.

Sylas crossed the cabin in two strides to stand before Ben. "It's time."

Ben froze.

"Your clan is getting restless outside. We don't have long."

"I ..." Ben's gaze darted to the window and the growing storm outside.

"Does he have a name?" I asked gently.

Ben nodded, his hold loosening. "We named him Bonvan."

"We should get Bonvan to the temple where he'll be safe." I slowly reached for Bonvan, and Ben reluctantly let me take him. Bonvan was so tiny. So fragile. "I bring milk to the orphanage for the infants. I'll check on him every week."

I re-wrapped him in the threadbare blanket he was in and tucked him under my cloak to keep him warm.

"Promise?" Lettia's question was a desperate prayer.

"I promise." I shared one last look with her before I pulled my hood up and stepped into the rain.

"How arrogant," Sylas sneered. "To think they know the will of the Ancients."

The weather had cleared as we finally came under the shelter of Eldrassyl. It seemed as though it took longer each time I made the journey. Twigs and red leaves fluttered from the sky like gentle snow.

The soft rays of sunlight dried my wet cloak. I parted the front slightly, checking on Bonvan. He'd slept for the entire hour we'd been riding.

He was tiny, but already my arms were growing tired of holding him. It had been too long since I helped at the orphanage. I stretched one arm out and flexed my hand, pushing some of the ache from my muscles.

"How else are they supposed to understand a child being born without magic?" Taron shot back. My leather pack shifted on his shoulders with the movement of his horse. "The clan usually handles affairs on their own."

Sylas and Taron had been arguing since the wind had died down enough for them to hear each other.

Sylas glared at him. "They're supposed to defer to the temple on matters of the Ancients."

"The clans will see this as an overstep of the temple and its priests." Taron shook his head. "Druids are already unhappy with the way the temple is handling the daeva raids, protecting the elementals first."

"It's simple logic, though druids aren't known for their skills of deduction." Sylas cut his hand through the air as he spoke. "The daeva hunt elementals more than druids. Earth elementals work in their mines. The temple's decisions overrule the clans."

"According to the elementals."

"According to the law of the temple."

"Which is always headed by an elemental high priestess."

I could practically hear Sylas's jaw creak as he ground his teeth together. Before he could escalate the argument further, I pointed at a spot I'd been eyeing as we'd climbed away from the coast.

"There." I squeezed my ankles against my horse's sides to catch up with Sylas. I carefully parted my cloak around Bonvan and handed the sleeping bundle to a surprised Sylas.

He held Bonvan away from his body. "What do I do with this?"

"Hold him while I'm gone." I dismounted.

"Where are you going exactly?" Taron asked as I handed him the reins.

I pulled the seed I'd salvaged from Lettia's cabin out of my pocket. "I told them I'd plant his eund tree. This seems like a good spot."

A large gray stone jutted from the top of a sloped cliff. Around it, tall grass fluttered lazily in the wind, catching the scattered rays of sunlight that filtered from the blood red leaves of Eldrassyl high above. The last wildflowers of spring carpeted the hill, splattering the meadow with bursts of blue and yellow.

I unclasped my heavy cloak, letting it fall to the ground. The warm breeze stirred the hair that tickled my bare shoulders.

I paused when I reached the edge and looked down. Sea mist churned below, mixing with the heavy storm clouds that hung low in the sky. I imagined, when it was clear, you'd be able to see Kaldfjell atop the cliffs of the sea.

I knelt in the grass and pushed my fingers into the soft dirt, digging a small hole. I dropped the seed in and covered it. Pressing my hands to the fresh soil, I sought my spark. Goosebumps prickled on my skin as my magic responded to my call.

It was tradition to plant the seed on the day of the baby's birth and to see it grow over the years as the child grew, but this wasn't a traditional situation.

I mouthed a silent prayer on my lips as I channeled magic into the seed. Its faint heartbeat thrummed against my palms, and a bright green shoot sprouted between my fingers. As tiny and fragile as the newborn.

I pushed more magic into my hands.

The sapling grew taller, stretching towards the sun. Verdant leaves unfurled from its tender branches. I released a final breath before lifting my hands. A smile stretched over my face as I sat back on my feet.

It was said that one's eund tree reflected one's soul.

The sapling was now as tall as Sylas, bursting with pure white blossoms. Its strong roots burrowed through the earth, anchoring into the gray stone below.

I wondered what my own eund tree looked like now if it was still standing near the village of my birth. Maybe my family had cut it down after I'd run to the temple, but I doubted they'd cared enough to destroy it.

I stood and made my way back to my waiting bodyguards. I wiped my hands on my skirt and scooped up my cloak as I walked.

Sylas frowned down at me. "You're dirty again."

I shrugged, taking my reins from Taron. "For an earth elemental, you have a surprising disdain for our element."

I expected Sylas to thrust Bonvan back on me as soon as I returned, but he didn't. Instead, he clicked his tongue and his horse began walking again.

"I prefer stone."

Taron took the horses back to the stable down the road as we arrived at the main entrance to the temple. It would be a faster way to the orphanage.

I clutched Bonvan to my chest. Sylas had given him to me when he dismounted. It was warm enough now that I didn't need to tuck him under my cloak. He made quiet noises, but his eyes were still closed.

Sylas and I walked on foot to the entrance. A granite path passed through an archway made of two twisting heila trees. Blooming vines wound up the white trunks and tangled in the blood red leaves. Stone walls rose from the earth on either side, forming a perimeter around the miles of temple grounds.

Two familiar sentinels guarded the archway. They glanced our way, but quickly recognized us, letting us pass through the entrance with a nod.

Usually, the temple was a space of tranquility and prayer. But the area in front of the temple was busy. Dozens of men and women in leather and iron milled about the clearing. People shouted and laughed as they set up canvas tents at the treeline. Weapons and armor clattered in every direction. Campfire smoke curled around us, smelling of meat and coffee.

It was dizzying.

"What's going on?" I asked Sylas as we passed through the camp.

I was pretty sure there were no festivals this week, let alone one like this.

"Mercenaries."

"Mercenaries?" My gaze flew over the people again. It was obvious now. Elementals from all four courts mixed with druids. They wore armor, but it wasn't the elegant armor of the sentinels. It was plain and utilitarian.

Sylas grunted. "Are you deaf, or are you just dumb?"

I narrowed my eyes on him, but I managed to swallow my retort. We were almost done with our task. In fact ...

"You can leave now." I quickened my pace towards the great tree.

Sylas grabbed my arm, but he didn't jerk me back. Instead, he pulled just enough to slow me. He placed another hand on my other shoulder like he was guiding me, escorting me. "You can't order me around."

I tried to shrug him off, but I didn't want to jostle Bonvan. A smirk lifted the corner of Sylas's lips.

"The High Priestess said the roads were dangerous." I huffed. "We're on temple grounds again."

Sylas's grip tightened on my arm until I was sure there'd be a bruise on my skin. "I'm charged with keeping you safe, priestess." His other hand slid over the top of my shoulder to brush the base of my neck. He lowered his lips to my ear and his voice to a whisper. "Don't do anything to endanger yourself."

I sucked in a sharp breath.

A mercenary looked up from the campfire he'd been tending. His golden hair caught the firelight, making it look like it was glowing. The sides were cut shorter, and a lock fell onto his forehead, covering the edge of a thin scar. His eyes were the color of polished bronze.

His lip curled, showing a flash of sharp teeth. He stepped into our path. The movement was casual, but something about his expression had the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

He was eye-to-eye with Sylas, but where Sylas was tall and trim, this man was all muscle. His leather armor creaked as he crossed his arms. The lines of his druid mark crept down his arm from the rolled up sleeve of his billowy black shirt.

He oozed strength and power. The camp went quiet as the mercenaries stilled, watching us.

"Sylas." He said his name like a curse.

"I didn't think I'd see you in the East again, Leon." Sylas's fingers flexed at the base of my neck, making me shiver.

"So nice of you to welcome me home." Leon's molten eyes traced a path down my face, lingering on Sylas's possessive touch before they continued down. "Is that ... a baby?"

"It's not mine," Sylas answered flatly.

"As always, your answer raises more questions." Leon's gaze hadn't left me. "What about her?"

Sylas's grip disappeared from my arm as he brushed past me to stand between us. "She's none of your concern."

"Well, now I'm very curious." Leon ran a scarred finger over his lips. "She's a priestess."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, a headache budding. "If anyone else has a conversation about me like I'm not here, I'm going to lose it."

"She's a pain in the ass," Sylas grumbled.

That was it. He'd found my limit.

I marched up to Leon, shoving past Sylas, and raising my chin. "I don't know who you are, but I can tell you dislike Sylas as much as I do."

Sylas radiated anger, but Leon looked down at me with curious amusement.

"I'm leaving. Make sure he doesn't follow me."

Leon grinned, but it wasn't friendly. It was more like an animal baring its teeth. "I'm not one of your sentinels. I work for the highest bidder. What will you do for me?"

"What do you want?"

He considered me. "I'm still figuring that out. How about you owe me a favor when I do?"

Sylas's presence was like a constant buzzing I had to get away from.

"Fine," I said.

"Alright, Hrida." Leon offered me his hand. "You have a deal."

I rolled my eyes at yet another nickname.

Hrida.

Storm in the old tongue.

"It's Rowyn," I ground out. His huge hand swallowed mine as I shook it. "Or Priestess Rowyn, if you're feeling formal."

"I'm not." Leon pulled on my hand, forcing me a step closer to him.

"Leon." Sylas's growled warning didn't affect him.

He dragged his lips across my knuckles. His hold was unyielding, but his lips were soft.

I tried to jerk my hand away, but Leon held on easily. "What—"

His breath ghosted across my skin. He nipped my finger, sending electric bolts down my spine.

"Enough, Leon." Sylas's warmth pressed against my side.

My cheeks flamed. Leon's bronze eyes glinted as they took in my face.

"Go now, Hrida," he whispered. "I think I have his attention."

My breath came in shallow pants as I fled. But no one followed. Leon had held up his side of the bargain.

What did I get myself into?

It wasn't enough to have two powerful men take a sudden, inexplicable interest in me. I had to add another to the pile.

Another powerful man I now owed a favor to.

I didn't stop until I reached the gigantic roots of Eldrassyl. The orphanage was a stone structure built against the trunk of the great tree. I climbed the plain staircase cut from the massive root that led to a side entrance.

I pushed on the heavy doors. Like much of the temple, scenes of the Ancients were carved into the dark surface. Inside, children ran between the tables of the cramped mess hall, dodging servants and priests busy with dinner preparations. I took a deep breath of the familiar scent of potatoes and herbs. One of Mara's specialties.

I tapped a boy's shoulder as he ran past, and he skidded to a halt in front of me. He smiled wide, showing crooked teeth.

"Priestess Rowyn!" He bounced on the balls of his feet. "Did you bring more of your sweets?"

Edfyr had grown up in the orphanage since he was a toddler. I'd only recently arrived then, and I helped take care of him when he'd arrived. The sole survivor of a daeva raid.

"Not today, Ed. Can you get Priestess Mara for me?" I willed my tense shoulders to relax. The orphanage had been my home for years. I felt more comfortable here than I did any other part of the temple grounds. Except maybe my cottage.

"She's in the nursery." He scratched his head. His eyes brightened as he noticed the infant in my arms. "Is this a new brother?"

I angled Bonvan so Edfyr could see him. "His name is Bonvan. You'll watch out for him, right?"

Edfyr straightened, surprising me with how much he'd grown. He was almost as tall as me now. He thrust his fist over his heart in a sentinel salute.

"You can count on me, Priestess." He started jogging down the hall and up the winding staircase towards the nursery. "Come on!" He called after me.

This was one escort I didn't mind. I followed him up and into the room at the end of the hall. The room Mara had fitted into a nursery for the youngest arrivals. A few cradles lined the wall of the narrow room below large, open windows.

Mara sat beside a woven bassinet. Her simple white dress pooled on the stone around her feet. The candlelight illuminated her rich ochre skin. Her moss-colored hair was cut close to her head. Mara wasn't like the other priests, and maybe that was why I liked her so much. She didn't wear silk or gold. She didn't sleep in the grand rooms in the temple. She lived in the orphanage with the children.

"Rowyn." She smiled warmly as I approached, but her expression flickered when she saw the baby in my arms. "And who is this?"

"His parents named him Bonvan," I said, stopping before her.

She pulled her finger from the baby in the bassinet and held out her hands. Bonvan stirred as I gave him to Mara.

"Hope born." She pushed the blanket from his face and stroked his cheek. "His parents are alive?"

I fingered the golden necklace that sat on my collarbone. A heila blossom. The sigil of Pallavi, the earth Ancient. "Yes."

Silence hung between us, filled only by the soft coos of the babies. Bonvan had woken and flapped his limbs awkwardly, testing them.

"Is he ill?" Mara asked softly.

"According to his clan, he's cursed."

The growing magic drought was a touchy subject everywhere, but it was especially so in the temple. Some denied it entirely.

Mara seemed to fall somewhere in the middle. She never spoke about it, though she cared for the children born without magic.

Mara sighed. "I see. Village superstitions." Her full lips pressed into a fine line. "Has he been blessed?"

"Not yet." My hand flew to my shoulder where I'd carried my pack, but my fingers met only the cloth of my cloak. I'd left my pack with Taron. "It's been a chaotic day."

Mara grasped my hand and squeezed. "I'll handle it. You've done well, Rowyn. He will live a good life here."

"I know." I returned her squeeze. I crouched beside the bassinet, resting my elbows on my knees. The infant inside was a bit older than Bonvan. She rolled her head to gaze at me with bright green eyes. Matching hair sprouted from her head. "You didn't introduce me to your new friend."

Mara adjusted Bonvan in her lap to cup the elemental child's head. "She arrived a few days ago. Her parents disappeared from a village in the north."

My hands balled in the fabric of my dress. "Daeva?"

"Most likely."

Children born without magic. People disappearing, enslaved in another world.

I took a deep breath. "Bonvan's grandfather called him cursed. He said he was tainted." I shook my head. "How could he say that about his own kin?"

How could my family say that about me?

I left the second part of my question unsaid. But Mara knew me better than anyone.

I watched her reaction carefully. Mara never seemed to doubt her purpose or the will of the Ancients. I'd struggled to find my place, and still did, but she was always steadfast in her faith. Where High Priestess Wynra was a torrent of energy and action, Mara was the rock that remained steady and enduring in the rapids.

"Fear." She stood and walked to a cabinet in the corner where she began mixing liquids in a flask, holding Bonvan in one arm. "People fear uncertainty. They want to believe everything that happens is intentional. The will of the gods. But sometimes things just happen. The Ancients are powerful, but their power isn't unlimited."

I curled myself over my legs. "Pallavi hasn't appeared to us in decades. The High Priestess hasn't heard her voice in years."

"We are the hands and voices of the Ancients when they grow weary and fall silent." Mara poured the mixed milk into a bottle and held it to Bonvan's lips.

"But the Ancients used to come to Porada often."

Grand tales of miracles and feats of power decorated the walls of the temple. Every elemental and druid child grew up hearing about the storms and famine that consumed the eastern continent. Floods swept away entire villages. Forests burned, set alight by unending bolts of lightning. The sun beat down on the earth until it was parched and cracking and nothing would grow.

Pallavi ar Jörgrund answered the prayers of her people. She appeared at the wellspring, holding a single heila seed. She planted it in the ground above the wellspring and blessed it with her magic until it grew to tower over the east. Its blood-red leaves sheltered her people, though the boughs had been receding.

"It has been many years since the Ancients held so much power," Mara said.

So the children like Bonvan and the people taken by daeva slavers weren't cursed by the Ancients. They weren't choosing who would disappear and who would be born without magic.

"The magic of the Ancients is fading," I said absently.

Everyone felt it, but we struggled to name it. We felt their weakness in the worsening storms that battered the coast and crept inland. We felt it in the children born without the Ancients' gifts. We felt it in the disappearances that went without punishment or intervention.

Mara nodded slowly. "The Ancients have not abandoned us. But we must be careful not to abandon them."

"But how is that possible? Has this ever happened before?"

"There are no tales of it in our history." Mara chuckled. "You'd have to ask a bennu Keeper, I suppose, though I've seen fewer bennu as well."

"What do we do?" I stood up, suddenly restless.

Mara placed Bonvan in another bassinet. "We must have faith."

I chewed my lip. That wasn't good enough for me.

If the Ancients weren't here to perform their miracles, that meant it was up to us to do what we could to fill their place.

Her eyebrows knitted together as she searched my face. "When you arrived alone at the temple, having walked across the continent, I knew the Ancients had pulled your soul from the Atherfors for a great purpose. The threads of fate wrap tightly around you, Rowyn, though I don't know where they lead."

She spoke flatly, like she was reciting a prophecy.

I shifted uneasily on my feet. "Did you hear that one from the Raven Priest?"

"I didn't have to. I may not have visions or be able to read the clouds, but I've lived a long time. I know a fated soul when I see one."

Mara had never spoken to me like this before. She'd always remained carefully neutral.

I bowed my head. "Thank you for speaking with me. I'll come back to check on him soon."

I had barely begun to understand what she was trying to tell me, but my headache had grown to a steady throb in my skull.

"Trust wisely, Rowyn." Mara's words chased me into the hall. "There is change budding, but not all change is for the better."

I descended the stairs, passing the main level of the orphanage to the neglected basement.

I just wanted to get back to my cottage, far from priests and people. Tomorrow was a medicine delivery, and I still had a few tinctures to prepare. I didn't want to risk running into Sylas or Taron. And now I had to worry about a golden mercenary roaming the grounds.

My body moved automatically, squeezing through a crack in a brick wall, hidden by a faded tapestry. I climbed down the narrow slope. With each step, the faint light dimmed until it was gone entirely as I reached the old tunnels deep below Eldrassyl. They connected different parts of the temple grounds, though no one seemed to use them anymore.

The passages were carved from the stone with earth magic thousands of years ago. I traced my hand along the smooth stone, letting the wall guide me.

I'd started using the underground passageways when I lived in the orphanage, so I knew the network well, even in the dark. I counted the times the stone disappeared beneath my fingertips, opening to more corridors.

The only sound in the space was the thump of my boots and the rustle of my clothing. Unlike the other underground spaces in the temple, there were no voices. No draft that passed as doors opened and closed. No constant rhythmic drips of groundwater. It seemed as though everything stood still here. Perhaps even time itself.

When the stone disappeared for the fourth time, I turned. The cool, damp air suddenly turned sweltering. Heat pressed against me, as if flames reached out to lick my skin.

I spun around, but there was no fire. I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision, but there was still no light. Just complete darkness.

I shook my head. Wynra and Mara were making me paranoid. There were hot springs below the temple. Maybe one of the priests had gotten carried away with the temperature, bringing the molten rock too close to the surface.

Sweat gathered on my brow. I unclasped my cloak, draping it over my arm. I replaced my hand against the stone and continued walking.

The normally soft cloth of my dress scraped against my legs as I walked. Each grain of sand and crack in the stone reverberated up my fingers painfully. I gasped and pulled my hand away, but the sensations still echoed across my sensitive nerves.

"What in the four worlds?" My whisper rang through the passageway. It reflected off the stone until it overlapped itself, caught in a loop.

Something was wrong.

A wave of dizziness washed over me. I pitched to the side. My palm slapped against the wall to catch me. I cried out as blinding pain shot up my arm and ricocheted through my body like a chain of lightning.

But that warmth curled around me, wrapping me in its burning embrace, and soothing the pain.

I registered the faint sound of slow footsteps through the pounding of my heartbeat, but I couldn't tell if they were approaching or growing distant. I needed to …

call for help.
run.

Chapter 3

I ground my teeth together and forced myself to move. Despite my light touch, the stone dragged roughly against my fingertips. I was sure my hands were raw and bleeding. Every muscle in my body resisted as I picked up my pace, stumbling away from the sharp footsteps in the darkness. I followed the path I'd taken a hundred times, counting the passageways and turning.

Left.

My head pounded as invisible arms wrapped around me. The pull grew stronger, dragging me back towards the sweltering heat. And whatever waited there. I hunched my shoulders against the ghostly grip and pushed forward.

Left.

I gasped as stale air finally leaked into my lungs as some of the pressure in the tunnels subsided. The sound of my breathing echoed in the silence. I no longer heard the rhythmic footsteps.

Right.

Faint light appeared at the end of the tunnel. I quickened my pace until I was running toward it, arms pumping at my sides. The stone at my feet sloped upwards towards the light.

I crashed through the curtain of vines covering the tunnel entrance and fell to my knees in the long grass of the temple garden. Shafts of moonlight cut through the dark forest. My burning fingers curled into the cool dirt as I caught my breath.

Cricket song filled the forest, rising above the gentle rustling of leaves and the burbling of the creek. The night air was cold against my sweaty skin. I shivered and glanced over my shoulder at the entrance, but the vines only swayed gently in the breeze. Nothing followed, and whatever spell had been at work underground was gone now.

I held a hand in front of my face. I'd expected them to be scratched and bleeding, but they were smooth and unblemished. The memory of pain still ricocheted through my body.

I shook my head and slowly climbed to my feet. Hugging myself, I slowly backed away from the entrance. A waterfall of trailing vines and spindly branches hid the doorway, cut into the hillside.

I'd been in the passageways hundreds of times since I first discovered it in my youth. The children in the orphanage told tales of a monster that lurked in the tunnels, but I'd always thought it was the whispers of scared children.

Maybe they had been right.

Something had been down there. Someone had been following me.

I absently rubbed my arms as I began to walk alongside the creek. My palms slid over the soft cotton of my sleeves. The strange sensitivity was gone, but my skin still prickled with the feeling of being watched.

Maybe High Priestess Wynra knew something about what had happened. I'd ask about it when I saw her next, but I wouldn't be going into the tunnels anytime soon.

I reached up and released my hair from its bun, running my fingers through the tangled locks. I needed a bath. Once I set the tinctures on the fire, I'd warm some water. After the day's events, I was ready to spend some time alone in my sanctuary, away from everyone.

When I reached the stone bridge, I paused. Soft light filled the windows of my cottage. Had I lit a lantern before I'd left?

As I got closer, I could hear faint, deep voices inside.

"You've got to be kidding me," I whispered under my breath. So much for having a relaxing night alone.

I threw the front door open. Taron and Sylas stopped their conversation to look at me. Taron lounged in my comfy armchair by the crackling fire. Sylas stood up straight in the center of the room, like he was afraid of touching anything in case he got a disease.

"What are you doing here?" I said, my patience wearing thin.

"Isn't it obvious?" Taron folded his hands behind his head. "We vowed to protect you, Baidr."

"We're back on Temple grounds," I said. It felt like I was repeating my conversation with Sylas earlier. I stepped inside and crossed my arms. "What are you going to protect me from here? A hot bath?"

"There are mercenaries on the temple grounds now. They can't be trusted." Sylas reached over me to close the door. "Your door doesn't even lock."

"I've never had to worry about keeping anyone out before," I mumbled. "But it doesn't matter to you anymore. You're officially released from your duties."

"The High Priestess tasked us with your safety." Sylas loomed over me. The flickering shadows sharpened his features. "You're staying in an unsecured shack unguarded by the temple sentinels, a short walk from a band of killers for hire."

Normally, I'd scoff at Sylas's concern for my safety, but after what happened in the tunnels, my usual ease on the temple grounds was shaken.

I bit my lip. "Can't I just jam a chair against the door?"

"I'm not going to entertain that with an answer."

"Why did High Priestess Wynra force you two to accompany me today?" I asked. I'd asked this when we set off this morning, but they'd avoided answering. "It was just supposed to be a routine task. Why didn't she just send a sentinel or two?"

Instead of the two most powerful priests at the temple.

Sylas straightened, giving me a few inches of space, but he didn't step away. "Wynra has expressed concern about her age and her consort's health."

I waited for Sylas to continue, but he didn't. I looked at Taron. "Am I missing something?"

"Sylas isn't the best at clarity." Taron smirked and placed another log on the fire.

Sylas sighed. "She's a priestess. I thought she would know."

"Know what?" I threw my hands up. They weren't making any sense.

"Wynra has made it obvious that she wants you to succeed her—"

A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it. I was the temple outcast. The girl cursed by the Ancients. Even my position as priestess was a cruel joke.

Sylas's stoic face didn't crack. My laughter died when I looked at Taron, who also stayed serious.

They seriously expected me to ascend as the Earth Temple's next high priestess? It was the most powerful position on the continent. An honor that only went to the priest that held the faith of the people and the blessing of the ancients.

"I don't even have full earth magic," I whispered. I pressed my palm to my chest, where my heart shuddered.

"You wouldn't be my first choice." Sylas's sage green eyes inspected me. "But you are the only sole-born priestess of age."

"That doesn't mean anything." I stepped away from Sylas, bumping into an old cupboard brimming with medicines. The vials clinked as I pressed against it, gaining as much space as possible in the cramped room.

Since elementals were usually born in sets of twins, triplets, or quads, sole-born elementals were rare. The magic was concentrated in their blood since they didn't have to share it with siblings. Sylas was sole-born. It was the reason he was so powerful.

"Wynra clearly favors you," Taron added.

"Clearly?" My voice raised to a screech with my growing anxiety. "I don't even study with the other priests anymore."

"That's your choice," Sylas said. "Wynra lets you live where you want and skip rituals when you want. When you do attend, you're her second. She asked you to care for her consort—"

"I'm a healer." I hugged myself. They were reading into Wynra's kindness. That was all. "That still doesn't explain why she made you two accompany me."

Sylas and Taron exchanged a look.

Taron leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "Wynra paired you with the two priests most likely to be the next consort, so you can begin the bond."

My mouth fell open. The bond.

"Naturally, you'll choose an actual priest," Sylas said, sneering at Taron. "Not a sentinel masquerading as one."

My head spun. This was too much for one day.

Taron crossed his legs as he settled back into my chair. "The wolf Ancient is the consort to the earth Ancient. As the wolf priest, I'm the natural choice."

"Let me get this straight." I held up my hands and looked at Sylas. "You insult and intimidate me all day, and that's your idea of trying to get me to like you?"

"I don't need you to like me," Sylas answered coolly.

Taron chuckled. "He's obviously never had to do such a thing in his life."

"And you've never had to prove yourself." Sylas's expression was tight. "The druid born with the legendary wolf spirit."

Taron angled his chair to face us. His movements were smooth, and when his gaze landed on me, it was predatory. "Do you want me to prove myself?"

His voice took on a honeyed tone I'd never heard from him. I found myself nodding.

"Come here, Baidr." His deep command rang in my ears and sank into my flesh.

I threaded my fingers through my hair. My head felt suddenly weightless, but my limbs grew heavy. "What ..."

Come here.

The command buzzed in the air, lifting the hair on my arms.

Come here.

I took a sluggish step toward Taron, but long arms encircled my waist, halting my march.

"She gets your point, wolf," Sylas grumbled next to my ear.

Come here. Come here.

I squirmed in Sylas's hold. Taron's order burned in my mind, taking control of my body. The buzzing grew like electricity arcing through the air. Shivers racked my body.

"She's trembling," Sylas whispered. His voice was gentle, soothing some of the magic that buzzed in my ears. I gripped the forearms that held me tightly to him. I released a shaky breath.

Taron's lips curled into a wry smile. "Let her go."

Sylas growled as his arms stiffened. His muscles strained until, finally, he wrenched them away.

Come here. Come here. Come here.

I rushed to Taron, desperate to fulfill his command. I stopped before him, the skirt of my dress brushing his knees.

His fingers tapped on the armrests as he took me in, savoring the moment. One hand patted his leg. "Take a seat."

My thoughts flickered before his new command took hold. I positioned myself between his knees and lowered myself onto one of his thighs.

"What are you doing?" My voice was breathy, my thoughts clouded. I leaned into Taron's chest, and the hum of his magic lessened.

Sylas stood across the small room, his hands balled into fists.

"Making my point." Taron brushed my thick emerald waves over my shoulder. "I could command you to love me. I could simply order you to make me your consort." His breath tickled my neck. "But that would be too easy."

His magic released me suddenly, the fog clearing from my brain as the energy popped and faded from the air. I scrambled away from him, bracing myself on the counter as I struggled to regain control of my body.

"Get out," I said through clenched teeth. "Both of you."

When neither of them moved, I let out a frustrated groan.

I spun to face them. "I don't need your protection. In fact, I'm beginning to think I need protection from you."

Sylas glared at Taron, who smiled back at him. For their claim of protection, neither of them were focused on their charge, they were only focused on each other.

"That's why you came here," I said, understanding crashing into me. "To protect me from each other."

Sylas's fingers flexed at his sides. "You just saw why I can't leave him alone with you."

"Don't act all high and mighty, priest." Taron rolled his eyes. "I haven't touched her." He stood abruptly. The chair scraped loudly against the floor. "You've marked her."

My cheeks heated, remembering Sylas's challenge in the barn and the way he grabbed me at the temple entrance. I pulled my sleeve down, hiding the purple skin on my wrist.

They were dangerous. They'd made that abundantly clear. And they'd convinced themselves I was their path to more power. I was simultaneously a pawn and a threat.

I needed to get them out of my cottage.

I cleared my throat. "I have to make some medicines for my delivery tomorrow. I won't be able to work with the two of you in here."

Neither of them moved an inch.

"If you both leave, you won't have to protect me," I tried.

Nothing.

"You can guard each other in the priest's quarters?" I winced.

Taron scoffed. I needed something stronger. Something to throw them off.

"I'm getting naked," I blurted.

The air in the room became stifling as they turned their stormy gazes to me.

"What?" Sylas asked carefully.

"I—I mean ..." I stuttered. My face burned. I resisted the urge to cover my cheeks with my hands. "I need to take a bath and my bathtub is here." I pointed at the narrow wooden tub beneath a window, close to the fireplace.

Both men stared dumbly at me for a moment before Taron chucked.

"Alright, give my future mate some privacy." He clapped Sylas on the shoulder, pushing him from the room. "I'll just stay and—"

"Not a chance." Sylas briefly resisted before he shrugged off Taron's hand and strode outside.

Taron paused in the doorway. "If he bothers you tonight, kick him in the balls and run for the barracks."

I nodded wordlessly. I wasn't so sure I trusted Taron either, after his demonstration tonight. I'd never had my will stripped from me. Fate may have shaped my circumstances, but I'd always made my own choices.

Once they were outside, I closed the door and dragged my armchair in front of it. Sylas may have thought it was a silly idea, but I didn't have any steel barricades lying around.

I curled up in the chair and breathed deeply, inhaling the familiar scent of herbs and medicines.

"Medicines." I rubbed my eyes and sighed. I still needed to finish a couple of tinctures for tomorrow's delivery.

Finally pushing myself to my feet, I mixed and crushed ingredients automatically. Luckily, I'd prepared most of the medicines over the past few days. All that was left was the arthritis tonic for Widow Yinnel and medicine for a young child's rash.

When both mixtures were done, I scraped the herbs into dark vinegar, boiling in cast iron pots beside the fire.

I rested my hands on my hips and blew out a breath. The day had left me emotionally drained, physically exhausted, and, above all, confused. It was tempting to crawl into bed and forget about it all.

"But I really do need a bath," I mumbled to myself. Mud streaked my pale skin and dried sweat crusted my hair. Sylas had been right. I was dirty.

I grabbed my largest pot and took it to my water pump beside my counter and filled it before hanging it above the fire. While I waited for that to boil, I rummaged through my herb cabinet. I needed something to calm my racing heart.

Had Sylas and Taron been playing a cruel joke on me? It was ridiculous to think of me succeeding High Priestess Wynra, and even more ridiculous to think I'd choose either of them as consort if I did.

I pulled out a jar of dried valerian and sprinkled some in the tub before filling it with cold water.

They'd seemed so sure I'd be selected. It was true that Wynra had always been generous with me, but it was only because she pitied me.

But it didn't matter. Even if I were selected, I'd never be able to complete the feats of ascension.

The window above the tub fogged as I poured in the boiling water. Droplets condensed on the leaves of a drooping peppermint plant on the windowsill.

I reached out and caressed the limp leaves. My magic jumped in my chest, still close to the surface after the events of the night. The stem straightened and stretched higher, growing toward my hand.

Plant magic had always come easily to me, and since the day it awoke, it had been powerful. My magic easily coaxed anything to grow or bloom. I could bring dead plants back to life and enhance their healing properties.

I'd been so relieved when my magic finally awoke at 16. Wynra and Mara asked me to join the priesthood, and I owed them so much.

So, I said yes.

But it quickly became clear I was still defective.

No matter how hard I studied, how many times I searched for it, I could never use the other side of earth magic. Stone and soil were unmoved by my prayers.

I unlaced my dress and let it fall to the floor. As I stripped out of my underwear, a chill ran up my spine. I glanced over my shoulder at the door where the chair still stood guard. My skin itched. It was the same feeling I had when Taron and Sylas were staring at me. It was the same feeling I had in the forest as I fled the underground tunnels.

I hurriedly lowered myself into the warm water and began scrubbing, stealing glances at the dark windows. I didn't even have curtains. Before today, no one came out here.

I'd have to hang some and get a lock for my door. If they truly believed I was their path to consort, they wouldn't be leaving me alone until it became clear who the true successor to the High Priestess would be. Then, they'd be her problem.

Groaning, I tipped my head back, dipping my hair under the water. As annoying as the two of them were, perhaps keeping one of them around during my deliveries in the village would be a good idea. Without their help in Kaldfjell, I wouldn't have even been able to enter Lettia's cabin.

I selected a jar of sweet-smelling shampoo and lathered it into my thick hair.

Then again, having one of them around seemed just as likely to cause a problem rather than solve it.

As I rinsed my hair, I steeled my resolve. I would ...

ask Sylas to accompany me to the village.
ask Taron to accompany me to the village.
go on my own.

Chapter 4

I smiled to myself as I walked along the path through a patch of forest that led to the temple village. The granite road glittered, polished by the shoes of thousands of earth elementals and druids on pilgrimage to the temple.

Pilgrims and temple servants passed me on the wide stone road. They spared me curious glances as I passed. My white and gold dress identified me as a priest, and priests rarely left the temple.

Normally, I dreaded my monthly deliveries. Too many people would try to talk to me for too long. But today, I was excited to get away from the temple grounds.

Sylas and Taron were still gone when I woke up before dawn. I'd quickly dressed and stuffed my leather pack with medicines and snuck out before the sun had finished rising.

Heilsteinn, the village closest to the temple, had always felt safe. Everyone was being overly cautious. Surely the daeva slavers wouldn't dare come so close to the temple where the sentinels patrolled.

I checked my list as I neared the city. Many of the names were the same as when I'd first started making medicines for the people of Heilsteinn nearly five years ago. I'd been a new priestess, excited by my affinity for healing plants and powerful concoctions. The temple had a small clinic, but many patients were unable to make the journey up the mountain.

So, I started bringing the clinic to them.

I'd experimented and learned to treat many illnesses and ailments that the herbalism books in the temple library had no treatments for.

I heard the town before I saw it through the trees. It was abuzz with activity. Druids and elementals must have already started arriving for the Heila Festival, the festival to celebrate the Ancient Pallavi planting Eldrassyl to shelter her people.

The smooth granite road turned to uneven cobblestone beneath my slippers. Nearly every surface of the village was stone. Tall buildings crowded the clearing, their gray limestone facades carved with meticulous designs of weaving foliage and intricate knots.

The market was the heart of the city. Here, shops sold goods from around Porada. Colorfully dyed awnings shaded the merchants that weren't lucky enough to afford a permanent store. Stalls lined the narrow cobbled streets, selling a variety of foods, leather goods, amulets, herbs, and offerings. I kept my head down as I wove through the crowd.

"Priestess!" a merchant called to me from behind their jewelry stall. "Please, will you bless my amulets?"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I'm just in the village to—"

"Priestess," a pilgrim stepped between the stalls to block my path, "will you offer prayer to Pallavi for my fortune?"

I turned to go down a narrow alley and called over my shoulder, "Bring an offering to the temple, and a priest will help you."

The village was a cramped network of streets and alleys, but I'd grown familiar with it over the years of my monthly deliveries.

Rowdy cheers spilled out of a tavern, making me jump. Men and women with various hair colors and worn leather armor raised heavy steins and tipped their heads back in laughter.

Elementals from the water, air, and fire courts. They weren't pilgrims. The mercenaries from the temple, perhaps? My ogling caught the attention of a woman with red hair. She narrowed her ruby eyes on my priest robes.

I averted my eyes and continued down the road. My first patient's door appeared at the end of another street. I knocked on the thick wooden door.

After a moment with no answer, I knocked again. "Miss Yinnel? It's Rowyn. I have your medicine. Made it fresh last night!"

"Just leave it on the doorstep," a muffled voice said from inside.

My eyebrows knitted together, and I raised my voice so she could hear it from the other side of the door. "Is the willow tincture still working for you?"

"I said leave it."

"Is everything alright, Miss Yinnel?" I asked. Widow Yinnel had been on my list for years. "Are you ill? I have time for a quick examination."

"No!" The door shook as she slapped it. I recoiled. "Now leave the medicine and go."

Widow Yinnel had never been particularly warm to me, but she'd never been hostile. I could only hope she would come to the clinic if she was feeling unwell.

"Alright." I reached into my leather pack and pulled out the tincture I'd made for her last night, leaving it in front of the door. "I'll see you next month, then."

I heard a muffled scoff as I turned down another street for my next delivery.

My next deliveries made Widow Yinnel's reaction seem friendly. Even the Everson family refused to see me, insisting I leave their child's potion on the porch and explain the directions to them through the cracked door.

Whispers and stares followed me as I neared my last delivery for the day. A new patient who had visited the clinic at the temple a few days ago. The clinic healer had ordered a powerful blend of dried herbs to help her sleep.

I pulled the small pouch from my pack as I climbed the crumbling steps to her door. The stone building had fallen into disrepair. Cracks crawled up the facade and weathered wood covered the broken window.

I knocked on the door and glanced over my shoulder. Dozens of gazes drilled into me from nearby windows and alleys. I shifted uneasily under their scrutiny. I could have sworn some had followed me as I made my other deliveries, but no one approached me. I pushed my hair from my shoulder and scratched the back of my neck where my skin prickled.

I knocked again, and the sounds of someone inside filtered through the broken window. I checked my delivery list again for the patient's name.

"Janne Wullin?" I called. "I'm a priest from the temple. I have the medicine Priest Gil prescribed."

The door shuddered and opened. Dim sunlight illuminated the wrinkled face of a druid woman. Her messy gray hair grazed her shoulders. Dark bags sank below bloodshot brown eyes. She looked like she hadn't slept since her visit to the temple clinic.

"My son dragged me to the temple." She scowled at me. "I don't want it."

"It's to help you sleep." I thrust the pouch at her, and she stumbled back like I held a poisonous snake instead of medicine. "Please. Priest Gil—"

"Priest Gil wants to kill me!" Janne yelled, drawing more attention from the rest of the street.

"Priest Gil wants to help you," I insisted. "You need to rest."

"No." Janne shook her head violently. "When I sleep, the Ancients whisper to me." She pulled at her unkempt hair. "We are a failed experiment. Abandoned children. Unwanted ..."

Priestess Mara's words echoed in my mind.

The Ancients have not abandoned us. But we must be careful not to abandon them.

I held the pouch out again. "They're only dreams."

"The temple is tainted." Janne grimaced. Madness crept into her bloodshot eyes. "The wellspring is poisoned." Spittle flew from her mouth as she stepped closer. "The priests spread the curse."

My fist closed around the pouch as I pulled my hand back. Lettia's father had said something similar.

"That's not true—"

"I won't let you curse me!" Janne growled and flashed sharpening teeth. She hunched her back as tufts of brown hair burst from her sallow skin.

My breath hitched. She was shifting.

"Alright, Janne." I held up my hands. "I'm leaving."

Janne's fingers contorted as they bubbled into heavy paws.

I stepped back, too afraid to look away, but my foot caught on a cracked stair. Pain shot up my spine as I fell onto the cobblestone. I scrambled to my feet as a bear tore through the doorway, splintering the frame.

I turned and ran through the suddenly empty streets. Crashing sounds followed close at my heels as I turned down a narrow alley.

I was too slow.

She would catch up.

She roared and swiped, ripping my leather pack from my arm. I stumbled from the force of it. Glass vials shattered under her paws, but she kept running, close at my heels.

Movement caught my attention at the end of the street. A man stood in a doorway, eyes wide.

"Help!" I yelled, but he flinched and flung the door closed.

The bear huffed. Hot breath blew my hair.

I turned another corner. A large cart blocked the road. It might be enough to slow Janne down. My lungs burned as I forced my legs to keep moving.

My eyes blurred. I blinked to keep the cart in focus. There was a small gap below it. Just enough room for me to squeeze through.

I dove. Sharp stones cut my hands and knees, tearing through the thin material of my priest robes. My shoulder jarred as I rolled under the wagon.

The cart shuddered above me as the bear crashed into it. Her paws were visible at the end as she paced.

My breath came in ragged pants. It was the only sound in the tense silence before Janne let out another roar. Wood splintered as she tore through the cart.

It wouldn't be long before she tore it apart.

A plank of wood clattered to the ground beside me. I reached for it and hugged it to my chest. I didn't know how to fight, but I felt better with a weapon in my hands, no matter how pathetic.

I ducked as claws pierced through the cart above me.

The market was so far away, but there were so many people there. Surely, someone would subdue the bear.

I scurried back as the bear ripped away a wheel of the cart. My knuckles whitened as I gripped the plank harder.

The tavern.

It was closer than the market.

Were those mercenaries still there? Would they help me if they were?

Blinding sunlight poured into my hiding place as Janne ripped the cart in half.

I was out of time. I had to ...

fight.
run for the market.
run for the tavern.

Chapter 5

I blinked at the sunlight as a shadow passed over my face.

I raised the plank of wood just in time. The bear's massive claw smashed the board in two, sending me sliding backward. My face stung as splinters cut my skin.

"Gods!" I cursed as my back hit the remains of the wagon.

I was no match for her strength. I needed to use magic.

I tried to remember the sentinels training in the temple yard. Fissures cracked the earth. Sentinels hurled boulders. I couldn't do that, but they used plants to slow and subdue.

I stood, clutching my throbbing shoulder with one hand, and scanned the area. We were in an eastern city. Plants were everywhere, hanging in pots and dripping from window boxes.

The bear reared back, lifting both arms. Her graying fur rippled as she towered above me.

I ignited my magic, sparking the familiar blaze in my chest. I extended my hand, using my magic to reach for the plants that surrounded us. Their thrums of mana were a discorded music. They jumped at my call, growing and stretching toward my target.

Flowering vines and slender branches shot through the air, wrapping around the bear's limbs like a dozen whips. She roared and wrenched her arms, tearing roots. Pots shattered as more vines stretched and snapped.

They weren't strong enough. I reached for the plants again, willing them to wrap around her again. They answered my call, weaker this time. I channeled more magic into their growth, thickening their vines.

They were stronger, but the spell was unfamiliar and slow.

The bear freed herself from the remaining restraints. I screamed through clenched teeth as I desperately forced more magic through my hand, but the vines were too slow. She easily moved out of their path.

Her body filled the road. I was cornered.

I smothered my magic. My back smacked into the destroyed wagon.

I had to climb.

I turned and clambered up what used to be the wagon's bed. My slippers struggled for traction. My arms shook as I lifted myself until I could hook my leg over.

Claws slashed my back. I cried out as searing pain locked my muscles. I forced myself to move and threw myself over the ledge. My shoulder crashed into the cobblestone. Something popped. Stabbing pain shot down my arm.

The bear roared as she began tearing the last barrier apart.

I curled up on my side as tears stung my eyes.

She was going to kill me.

"Pallavi, protect me," I whispered. "Let my soul be worthy of your grace in the next life. Pallavi, protect—"

My heart thumped against my ribs. It was my magic. An answering pulse throbbed far below. I knew that power. It had beat in the background of my life for ten years.

Eldrassyl.

Like the great red boughs, its roots spanned the continent. I'd developed roots in the forest, but this was different. Eldrassyl's roots had a mind of their own. A power of their own.

The ruined wagon shuddered and split. The halves smashed against the stone houses as the bear pushed her way through the breach.

I crawled backwards as she swiped. She caught me on a powerful backswing, sending me crashing into a wall. I cried out as my head cracked against the stone.

Muffled ringing filled my ears like cotton. Warmth trickled down my neck. Forcing my eyes open, the bear's hulking form became fuzzy. It drifted across my vision. Thoughts surfaced and faded like flickering lights in the fog.

Fangs flashed. I raised my arms over my face. I screamed as teeth clamped on my forearm, ripping through my flesh as she dragged me.

Clarity pierced through the fog in my mind.

She was going to kill me.

I beat my fist against her muzzle and shoved my thumb into her eye. She whimpered as she finally released me. I rolled to my belly and pressed my palms to the ground, seeking the pulse deep underground. Eldrassyl answered my desperate call.

Cobblestone cracked and flew as thick roots erupted from the earth. Shards of stone bruised my skin and shattered windows. The roots snaked around the bear's body, wrenching her to the ground before she could react.

She snarled and struggled as the stark white roots tightened their hold, forcing her limbs into wrong angles and constricting around her neck. Her eyes widened on me as she realized.

I was going to kill her.

Shouting and shadows surrounded me, muffled and blurry. I pushed myself up to my knees.

The bear's form shifted to human once more, and I released my magic. The broken body of an old woman slumped to the cobblestone as the roots retreated into the earth.

Her name echoed in the air.

"Janne."

Her naked, pale body was marred by the roughness of the roots. Purple lines encircled her waist, wrists, and neck.

More yelling followed.

"What happened?"

"Is that a priest?"

"She did this."

I tried to cover my ears against the harshness of their voices, but I couldn't move. Numbness dulled my nerves. Blood trickled down my injured arm, pooling on the stone beneath my hand. The shadows pressed closer, but I couldn't drag my gaze from Janne's broken body.

They were right. I did this.

I killed her.

"She said the priest would curse her ..."

"Like in Kaldfjell."

"Get her!"

Hands gripped my shoulders, and I cried out at the sharp pain. Orange fur shot across my blurred vision, and the hands disappeared. A large fox stood between me and the advancing crowd. She hunched her back and growled.

"Rowyn?"

I flinched at my name and finally raised my eyes. A tall man shoved his way through the pack of people. Sheathed weapons and worn leather armor were strapped to his broad frame. A golden warrior. Recognition flashed in my mind, but I struggled to hold on to the memory.

The fox growled at him as he approached.

He held up his hands. "I know her. Let me help."

The fox stopped growling, but didn't move. She jerked her chin at the circle of people closing in.

"My men will handle them," the golden warrior said. He raised two fingers, and more warriors emerged. They drew weapons and turned to face the crowd.

The fox's posture relaxed, and fur melted to flesh. A woman stood before me. She flicked her copper hair over her shoulder and rested a hand on her bare hip. "Neat trick."

The warrior knelt beside me. "What happened?"

My lips parted to answer, but my thoughts were garbled. My tongue stilled in my mouth. Darkness gathered in the corners of my vision.

"I'd ask you who you are, but we don't have time." The woman looked the warrior up and down. "You look strong enough. Carry her to my shop."

He reached out, but before he touched me, he curled his hand into a fist. "Her wounds are deep. She won't make it to the marketplace."

"My shop isn't in the marketplace," the woman said. "Now, do you want to leave her here bleeding out while we chat some more, or are you going to pick her up?"

The warrior's lips thinned as his molten bronze eyes ran over my body. He slid his fingers over the skirt of my white dress, embroidered with gold thread. With a firm grip, he tore a length from the hem.

"This is going to hurt, Hrida. I'm sorry." He slid his hand into mine and gingerly lifted it.

Hrida.

Memories pounded in my skull. I pushed through the pain and clutched for them.

"Leon," I whispered through numb lips.

Blood poured from the wound on my forearm, dripping onto our joined hands. I hissed as Leon began wrapping the cloth tightly around the wound.

"Squeeze my hand if it hurts too much," Leon said.

I nodded weakly, but the slight movement summoned a fresh wave of dizziness and nausea. My head lolled as Leon worked.

"That part's over." He kissed my ashen knuckles like he had when we first met at the mercenary camp. His tongue darted out as he licked my blood from his lips. "But this will also hurt."

He slid his muscular arms under my knees and around my shoulders. I grimaced as his arm pressed against the tender gashes on my back. He lifted me and cradled me against his chest. I wrapped my uninjured arm around his neck and rested my cheek against his soft shirt. He smelled like summer hay and sunshine.

"Finally," the fox woman groaned. She began walking, but paused when she noticed Leon wasn't following.

"Veril," he barked, and a young man turned to salute him. "Send word to the temple. Let the High Priestess know that Priestess Rowyn is being cared for and is under the protection of the Pride."

Veril saluted him and disappeared into the crowd.

"Anika, Davis," Leon said, as two more mercenaries turned to him. "You're with us. Make sure no one follows."

Leon followed the fox woman down an alley. He walked quickly, but his gait was smooth, like he was trying not to jostle me.

"A mercenary captain, huh?" the woman asked. She was still naked from her shift, but that alone wouldn't draw much attention among druids.

"Something like that," Leon replied. His chest vibrated under my cheek. "Why are you helping her?"

The woman smirked. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Well, since I asked first, how about you answer first?" Leon said. His tone was even, but something dangerous boiled underneath. "What's your name?"

"Talia." She shrugged. "The priest is my brother's future mate. He asked me to look after her."

Leon's scarred eyebrow lifted, and his arms stiffened around me. "Your brother's future mate?"

"Yeah, when she becomes High Priestess." Talia frowned at me. "Taron seems convinced, but she can't even fight."

Taron's future mate.

I groaned into Leon's shirt.

Talia stopped at an old building with a worn sign that read "Wolf and Fox Leatherworking" above it. She shoved the heavy door open and held it for Leon. She stepped into the doorway as Davis and Anika moved to follow.

"Those two stay outside," she said. She pointed at Anika's polearm. "Not a lot of room in here. Can't have you toppling all my merchandise with that pointy stick of yours."

Anika and Davis looked to Leon who nodded, and they took up guard outside. Faint sunlight filtered into the room from two small windows, nearly blocked with lopsided stacks of cloth and leather. A counter ran the length of the room, but it was barely visible under mounds of leather goods and supplies.

Talia lit a lantern and waved us to a narrow stairway in the back. "My room is up there. Set her on the bed and I'll bring up some water and bandages."

She disappeared into another room, taking the light with her. Leon paused at the bottom of the stairs.

"It's too narrow to go through like this."

"Set me down," I said. My words scratched against my throat. "I can walk."

"Hold on to me," Leon whispered.

I tightened my arm around his neck as he shifted me in his arms until my legs wrapped around his waist and our chests pressed together. One arm looped under my butt, and his other hand splayed over my lower back, avoiding my wounds.

His molten bronze eyes were inches from mine. I ducked my head to his shoulder as he carried me up the stairs. He gently set me on Talia's bed below another window, though this one let in more light.

Talia's bedroom was bare in comparison to the clutter of the floor below. Simple wood furniture filled the space, devoid of decorations.

Leon brushed blood from my cheek. "Why did you come to the village alone? The High Priestess warned you that it's dangerous out here for priests."

"I deliver medicines every month. The village has always felt safe," I admitted.

I'd never encountered anything like this before in Heilsteinn. There were the disgruntled patients, but they'd never attacked me.

"Janne said the Ancients spoke to her in dreams." I stared at Leon's feet. "She said the priests are spreading a curse. A druid in another village said that yesterday."

"Word of that baby's birth in Kaldfjell spread quickly," Talia said, making me jump. She stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in pants and a threadbare shirt. Strips of cloth were slung over her shoulder and she held a steaming bowl of water in her hands. "People are scared."

"Scared of priests?" I asked.

Talia set the water down on the bedside table and wrung out the washcloth. "Scared of the Ancient's anger, scared of losing their magic, scared of the unknown, scared of a hangnail. It doesn't take much to rile people up."

"Things are the same in the North," Leon said. "We had a bid from a clan up there before High Priestess Wynra contacted us. They thought another clan was stealing their magic and wanted us to 'take care of it.'"

"Turn around." Talia twirled her finger.

I turned on the bed until I was facing the wall.

"Damn." Talia whistled. "She got you good. Got a knife?"

"I'll do it," Taron said, his voice gruff.

His fingers drifted over my shoulder until they reached the neck of my ruined dress. He cut through the torn cloth. I sucked in a breath as he peeled it from my wound.

"Give me the rag," Leon ordered. "I've treated many injuries."

"Whatever," Talia said.

I tensed my jaw, bracing for the pain. The warm cloth drifted across my unmarred skin, getting closer to the slashes with every pass. When he finally dabbed the cuts, I'd already adjusted to the burning pain. My hands gripped Talia's bedsheets until my knuckles turned white.

"Are you almost done?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"You managed to get a lot of dirt in here," Leon replied.

I forced breath into my lungs as pain lanced through my spine. "That was either from when she threw me into a building or dragged me by my arm with her teeth."

"Taron said you'd never trained to fight," Talia said. "How'd you kill a rampaging bear?"

I squeezed my eyes shut against the image of Janne's broken body. "Eldrassyl."

"You killed a druid with the great tree." Talia's tone was flat. "Shit. Maybe Taron was right."

Leon sighed. "It sounds like the druids in the area were already distrustful of priests and disgruntled with the temple. Now, a priest has killed a druid in the village streets in broad daylight. People won't want the truth. They'll just want vengeance."

"Stay with me until everything blows over." Talia sat cross-legged on the bed beside me.

"Isn't this your only bed?" I turned my head to look at her.

She propped herself on her hands and smiled at me. "I don't mind sharing."

"If Rowyn doesn't return to the temple, High Priestess Wynra may send sentinels to look for her." Leon dropped the bloody rag in its bowl. "And her wounds are deep. She'll likely need medicines from the temple."

Talia rolled her eyes. "Taron will smooth things over with the temple, and I'm perfectly capable of taking care of her healing."

"I can take care of my own healing." I stood on shaky legs. "I'm a healer, after all."

"Well, healer, we still need to bandage your back." Talia thrust the strips of cloth at Leon and started pulling on my sleeves.

"What are you doing?" I tried to pull away from her, but she was stronger than she looked.

Talia huffed. "We need to take off your bodice unless you want us bandaging it onto you."

"Fine. Hold on." I turned my back to them and carefully slid my bloody, torn, and dirty sleeves down my arms, taking extra care with my injured forearm. I crossed my arms over my breasts, letting my bodice pool around my waist.

"Arms up!" Talia instructed.

I begrudgingly lifted my arms enough for her to wrap the cloth around my chest.

"The streets are probably pretty unsafe for you right now," Talia said. "Since you come here every month, people will recognize you, even without your priest robes."

Leon cleared his throat. "My mercenaries will protect you until you're safely back on temple grounds."

The bandage around my ribs tightened as Talia tied it off. "Whatever you decide, you should probably learn to fight. Things will only be getting more dangerous for priests around here if nothing changes."

I slipped my arms through my sleeves again and held my bodice to my chest before I turned back to them.

I would ...

return to the temple with Leon to heal.
stay with Talia until things calm down.

Chapter 6

I scratched at the hood that covered my head and scanned the faces we passed. The only way back to the temple was through the city. Talia had loaned me some of her clothing, as well as a beautifully embossed leather pauldron and belt.

She insisted I try and blend in with the rest of Leon's mercenaries to slip through the city unnoticed. I'd never worn trousers before, and I felt strangely naked with the form-fitting clothing. I adjusted by borrowed cape, trying to cover as much of myself as I could.

The pauldron kept slipping off my shoulder. I pushed it back into place, but winced as pain lanced down my arm. I may have looked ready for a battle with the other mercenaries, but I was closer to passing out than winning a fight.

I tried to conceal my limp. Every step reminded me of the battle with Janne. Every whisper in the marketplace carried her name.

And mine.

Leon's mercenaries surrounded me, forming a solid wall as we walked. Despite this, my heart beat hard in my chest. Talk of cursed priests, dark magic, and suspicion filled the air like static before a lightning strike.

"Here." Leon slipped the hilt of a knife into my palm.

I held it up to inspect the simple blade, sheathed in leather. The wooden handle was carved with interweaving lines in a traditional Poradan style.

"What do I do with this?" I clutched it to my chest as the pack of bodies in the market grew thicker.

Leon chuckled. "Use it if you need to, but for now, keep it on your belt." He hooked a finger under my belt and pulled me a step closer. "Here."

My cheeks burned as he unclasped my belt and slid it through the loop in the knife's sheath. His fingers lingered at my waist.

"Thanks." I ducked my head to hide my red face.

"You look like a mercenary," Leon said. His warm hands drifted upwards until he reached my pauldron strap. It crossed my chest and looped under my other arm. He tightened it with deft fingers until it was secure against my shoulder. "If you ever tire of the temple, I'm always in need of elementals."

"I can't fight."

Leon shrugged as we moved to catch up with the others. "Not yet, but if Eldrassyl answers your call, your magic rivals that of the High Priestess."

"I'm missing the other half," I admitted quietly. The streets were becoming sparser at the edge of the city. Anyone on the street quickly moved out of the way of our group. "I can't control earth or stone."

"Does it matter?" Leon scratched the dark blond stubble on his jaw.

"It does to the temple," I answered. Magic seemed like the only thing that mattered to the temple when it came to their priests. The stronger a priest's magic was, the more blessed they were by the Ancients.

"Then they miss the potential in front of them." Leon's molten bronze gaze scanned the road as it turned to smooth stone.

My shoulders sagged with relief. The road to the temple. It had only been this morning that I'd traveled it to get to the village.

"What do you think Talia meant?" I twisted my cape's tie in my fingers. "About the Heila Festival?"

Before pushing us out her door, Talia had left us with a cryptic warning about the festival.

"One last piece of advice." Talia draped a threadbare linen cape over my shoulders. "Don't go to the Heila Festival. The Ancients don't care if you sacrifice everything for them." Something glittered in her hazel eyes. "They'll only pay attention if we make them."

"Festivals are the only times the priests leave the temple." Leon glanced over his shoulder. "If people are targeting priests, that would be a good time to—"

"Surely not." My brow furrowed. Clearly, people were scared and frustrated, but an attack? But the way Talia warned me ...

They'll only pay attention if we make them.

I rubbed my chest where my heart still throbbed painfully against my ribs. I couldn't shake this feeling of dread. Like fate was pulling us towards something horrible, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Sweat pricked my brow as I hobbled up the stairs of the temple clinic. After the long walk back to the temple grounds, I was growing dizzy. Leon grabbed my hand and placed it on his shoulder to steady me.

I'd lost count of how many times he'd done something similar during the walk. It was like he could read every thought and need I had. Maybe I was easier to read than I thought.

"The clinic?" Leon held the heavy door open for me and followed me into the stone brick hallway, lined with open windows. "I thought you were a healer."

"I need some supplies and Priest Gil is—" I paused as I noticed Leon's smirk. "You're teasing me."

"You make it too easy."

I shook my head, though a smile pulled at my lips.

Since it was late, the clinic was empty of patients. The rest of the mercenaries had left us when we reached their camp at the entrance to the temple grounds. I led Leon down the hallway, lit by flickering candles on the walls, and into the impressive apothecary wing at the end.

The temple's apothecary was a magnificent, more organized version of my cottage. Bundles of herbs hung from the rafters to dry. Jars and vials filled endless shelves that covered the walls from floor to ceiling. A blazing hearth dominated the far end of the room. Cauldrons hung from chains and pots boiled on the coals.

Priest Gil plucked a jar from the wall and adjusted his glasses on his long nose before squinting at the label. Muttering to himself, he placed the jar back on the shelf. Gil had a habit of getting so engrossed in his work that the building could be burning down around him without him looking up.

"Priest Gil," I said loudly.

Gil spun around, nearly dropping the jar he'd just picked up. "Rowyn." He let out a sigh of laughter. "You scared me half to death."

"I could have danced the prayer of the forn on your table and you wouldn't have noticed me." I opened an old wooden cabinet and pulled out a box of bandages.

Leon batted a hanging bundle of herbs from his face as he followed me into the room.

"What brings you to the clinic at this hour?" Gil peered at me through his round lenses. "What are you wearing?"

"I ... My priest robes got torn and—"

"Rowyn got into a fight with a bear," Leon interrupted.

"Rowyn g-got into a—" Gil spluttered. "A bear?"

I gave Leon a look as I pulled a few rolls of bandages from the box. "I'll be fine."

"Let me examine you." Gil placed the jar he was holding back onto the shelf.

I knew Gil too well to argue. He was a timid man, but when it came to healing, he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Fine." I sighed and dropped the box of bandages on a table. I frowned at Leon as I unbuttoned the shirt Talia had loaned me.

Leon crossed his arms and stared back at me. "I can field dress wounds, but you really need a healer to look at it."

"I said fine!" I slipped the shirt off. My bandages covered my breasts, but I turned my back to Leon as Gil began his examination.

"Yes, but you said it in a way like you didn't really mean it."

I pressed my lips together, swallowing my retort as Gil began removing my bandages and applying healing salve to the wounds. My skin burned as the salve got to work.

"These should heal fine, but the bite on your arm needs stitches," Gil said. "Even your salves won't be enough on their own."

"Fine," I said again. I didn't want to look over my shoulder at what I was sure would be Leon's gloating face.

Gil was already gathering the supplies. "This is a bear's bite?"

"Yes." I spread numbing cream over the bite. "One of your patients, Janne Wullin."

Gil's thin fingers stilled in the middle of threading a needle. "Insomnia case?"

"That's the one. She said her son took her to the clinic a few days ago."

"I remember her. She wouldn't let me touch her." Gil finished threading the needle. I ground my teeth together as he began meticulously suturing the deep, jagged wound on my forearm. "She didn't want to sleep because she said the Ancients spoke to her in her dreams. She accused me of trying to steal her magic."

"She attacked me because she thought I was trying to curse her." I forced my arm to relax against the new wave of sharp pains as the needle pierced my skin. Thankfully, Gil worked quickly.

"I shouldn't have sent you to deliver her medicine," Gil said. His face pinched in pain as if I were the one stitching his arm. "She wasn't the only one I'd heard such things from, but I couldn't have imagined ..."

"The things she said—about the Ancients and priests. You've heard that before?"

Gil finished his stitches and snipped the thread. "Yes. The clinic has been unusually slow this month. And many of those who do come are ... anxious. Many refuse treatment like Janne. Thankfully, I have yet to be assaulted."

Silence hung in the air as Gil wrapped fresh bandages around my arm, and I slipped my shirt on.

"Are the sentinels looking into the attack?" Gil washed his hands in a basin of steaming water.

I glanced at Leon. "I don't know. I've been with the Leon and his mercenaries since they found me."

"There were no sentinels in Heilsteinn when we left and we didn't pass any on the road to the temple," Leon answered.

"I see." Gil gripped the rim of the water basin. "Perhaps it's because the sentinels are stretched thin, dealing with growing unrest and disputes in the countryside."

Taron and Leon had mentioned something similar. That the druids were disgruntled with the rule of the Temple.

"That's why Wynra contacted us," Leon said, his expression grim. "Rowyn may be the first priest attacked, but the violence isn't new. Poradans are afraid and they're blaming anyone they can."

Gil sighed. "Many blame the temples, believing they are neglecting their duties to the Ancients or even that the Ancients themselves have turned on our people."

Coldness settled into my belly despite the sweltering heat from the apothecary's fire. Before yesterday, my life at the temple had continued as though nothing was amiss. The first I'd heard of anything being wrong was when Wynra ordered Taron and Sylas to accompany me to Kaldfjell. She'd blamed the danger on daeva slavers, but hadn't mentioned the threat could come from our own people.

Gil twisted a towel in his hands. "I'm suspending your deliveries until we can ensure your safety."

I wanted to argue, to insist on helping the patients I'd promised to heal, but he was right. I shivered, remembering the sound of my name whispered in the marketplace. The yells of the crowd as I curled into myself, bleeding on the cobblestones.

I couldn't go back to the village.

"Will someone else go next month?" My throat constricted around my words.

"It will be dangerous for any priest—"

"I'll have one of my men do it," Leon said. "They aren't affiliated with the temple, and they can handle themselves if anyone gives them trouble."

I nodded somberly. The peaceful life I'd worked so hard to make for myself was slipping through my fingers.

"This is where you live?"

Leon had been surprised to hear I didn't live with the other priests, but he'd been even more surprised when I led him into the thick woods.

"This is the temple gardens." I walked the familiar path home. I'd taken my slippers off and reveled in the feel of the earth against my bare feet. "I tend them from my cottage, just down there."

The further we went into the gardens, my body felt stronger and my pain dulled. I ran my hands over tree trunks and along the broad leaves and vines I passed. Their mana beat with my own. My magic filled them and the sacred wellspring sustained them.

Leon looked at me sideways. "You're a strange priest."

"So I've been told." I would have run to my cottage if my body had allowed it. Instead, I picked up my pace over the bridge and threw my door open.

"Ah, there you are." Taron sat in the chair by my fireplace, though this time the hearth was cold. I could barely make out his form in the moonlight.

A tall figure that could have only been Sylas stood in the center of my cottage. It was exactly as it had been the last time I'd come home, only darker.

"No." All the strength I'd gathered from my walk through the garden suddenly left me. I leaned my hip against my counter. "Did you keep it dark in here so I wouldn't know you were waiting for me?"

"You weren't here when we came this morning," Sylas said. Displeasure dripped from his words. "You snuck into the village without us."

"So, you've been here guarding each other all day while Rowyn gets mauled by a bear?" Leon squeezed through the door. The temperature seemed to drop in the room.

"What are you doing here?" Sylas growled.

I heard the sound of ripping cloth and a body hitting wood.

I ran my hands over the counter until I found my a lantern. Soft light illuminated the three very angry faces of the men in my living room. Leon held Sylas against the wall by a fistful of his tunic. Leon's other hand had morphed into a strange sort of paw. Golden fur sprouted on his skin, and he held a dangerously sharp claw to Sylas's throat.

"I'm doing your job." Leon pressed his claw into Sylas's skin.

Sylas shoved Leon away and straightened his tunic. "You could never become the consort."

"That's not what I meant." Leon's hand shifted back into fingers. He clenched them into a fist. "You think of nothing but your position."

"You're seriously all going to skip right over the mauled by a bear part?" I shook my head. They were unbelievable.

Taron stood. "What are you talking about?"

"You're the commander of the sentinels?" Leon inspected Taron. They wore similar clothing, though Taron's worn armor was embossed with intricate designs and gleamed with polished silver. The armor of a blessed temple sentinel.

"I am." Taron rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Rowyn was attacked in Heilsteinn this afternoon. I sent a man to report directly to the High Priestess," Leon said. "Yet you haven't heard of the incident?"

A muscle popped in Taron's jaw. "I have not."

A realization seemed to pass between the two men, but I was lost.

"I don't understand." I jammed the bandages I'd taken from the clinic into my overstuffed cabinet. "Why does it matter if Taron knew about it?"

From what Gil and Leon said about the sentinels, it sounded like they wouldn't have been able to do anything, anyway.

Sylas's sage green eyes cut to me. "It means the High Priestess didn't notify the sentinels. She's keeping it quiet."

I hugged myself. "I think word has gotten out."

"She only means to keep it from the priests."

"But why? Wynra has always protected her priests."

Taron sneered. "She's only ever protected her priests from the truth. Things are much worse than she is ready to admit. And her decisions have only inflamed the issue."

"The temple needs new leadership." Sylas gazed meaningfully at me.

Not this again.

"I'm not High Priestess material." I slumped against the counter. "I barely survived a single bear."

My encounter with Janne had only solidified this in my mind. In order to ascend, a priestess must pass three feats, testing the priestess's strength of body, mind, and magic.

"Leon wasn't with you?" Sylas asked.

Leon's eyes fixed on the ground. "I found her after she'd already killed the bear."

"You killed it?" Taron's eyebrows shot up.

Sylas gazed at me skeptically. "How? You've never trained to fight, and your elemental magic is limited."

"I used Eldrassyl's roots," I answered, remembering the way its mana beat with my own. "It's ... strange. It was like the great tree called to me."

I could practically see the gears turning in Sylas's head. "Your magic is stronger than I anticipated."

"Her combat skills could use some work." Leon's eyes rose to my forearm where my bite ached beneath my shirt sleeve. "She was gravely injured when I found her."

"I'll heal." I shrugged. Already, the dizziness and weakness I'd felt from the fight was waning, and with the medicines from the clinic, my pain had dulled to a throbbing ache.

"We can't let this happen again." Sylas dragged a hand through his hair. "The consort's health is declining and the High Priestess's power is waning. We don't have much time before the next ascension."

Taron nodded. "She will have to train."

"She needs to heal," Leon growled.

I chewed my lip as they argued. They discussed my fate like it was set in stone. Like I was destined to attempt the feats and ascend as the next High Priestess. But did I want any of that?

I'd always thought I wanted a simple, peaceful life.

I could run to a faraway village and make a new life for myself. I could heal people and tend my garden with no expectations thrust on me from others. Without the weight and the danger of my priest robes.

I'd stumbled into the priesthood. The temple had been my only option for survival as a child, but before my magic awakened, I'd never expected to stay here. Maybe I was never supposed to become a priest at all.

Passing the feats would mean risking my life to become the leader of the Earth Temple. To become the most powerful being in the East.

That kind of power scared me. But it was the kind of power that could mean touching the lives of every druid and elemental in the East. I could restore the people's faith in the Ancients or bring change to the Eastern Temple.

Priestess Mara's words echoed in my mind.

We are the hands and voices of the Ancients when they grow weary and fall silent.

My gaze drifted to my bedroom where a clean priest robe lay at the foot of my bed. The gold threads caught the flickering lamplight.

I wanted to ...

get away from the expectations and danger of the temple.
pursue my fate with the temple.

Chapter 7

I released the bowstring. My arrow hit the target with a satisfying thwack. I lowered my bow and winced.

"You're supposed to hit the center of the target," Sylas remarked.

I took a steadying breath. The training had been relentless since I decided to jump headfirst into my life as a priest. Despite Leon's warnings, Sylas and Taron seemed unconcerned with my injuries.

A part of me appreciated it, that they weren't treating me like a fragile flower, but another, growing part of me wanted to hit them with my bow.

Leon scowled at Sylas as he joined our trio in the clearing. "She'd never picked up a bow before yesterday."

I smiled to myself as Taron handed me another arrow. Leon had always taken my side, and he hadn't physically left my side since he found me in Heilsteinn. I wasn't sure if he was trying to protect me from Sylas and Taron, or if he was just lending me his support, but I was thankful for it.

Each morning for the last two days, the three of them showed up at my door for training. Taron pushed me in learning archery and Sylas taught me some ways to use my earth magic in battle.

"Practice sustaining roots while shooting," Sylas instructed. His stern tone brokered no argument.

They were both their usual pushy selves, but in training, it seemed to help me learn. Sylas was always direct and expected perfection. Taron was always adapting his teaching to my strengths.

I closed my eyes and sought the spark of magic in my chest. The life of the temple gardens pulsed all around us. I felt the roots of a tree below the straw target.

I opened my eyes and focused on the target. The golden sunlight of dusk filtered through the dense forest. Eldrassyl's blood red leaves fluttered to the ground, catching the rich light.

Gripping the bow tightly, I lifted my other hand. My fingers curled into a claw. Thick roots burst from the earth, answering my call. I closed my fist, and they wrapped around the target. The wood splintered as the roots constricted.

Taron whistled. "I think you killed it."

"We're going to have to practice more ... control." Sylas waved his hand, and the roots slid back into the ground. "Your magic is becoming volatile."

I sighed. This was hopeless.

"You've been driving her into the ground with your drills," Leon snarled. "She's exhausted."

"It's okay," I assured him. I flexed my left hand. The bite was healing well, but a twinge of pain raced up my arm every time I shot my bow. "I asked for their help."

But he was right. Every muscle in my body ached and my injuries kept reopening. I wiped sweat from my forehead and pushed my thick braid over my shoulder. I'd started wearing the leather pauldron and knife every day, and Taron had gifted me his old bow and quiver. I still wore my gold and white priest robes. Now, I drew even more odd looks from the other priests than usual.

"She's not learning fast enough." Sylas glared at Leon. "The feats may be days away."

The consort's health continued to decline. He'd fallen asleep a week ago and had yet to wake up. The High Priestess had requested that I stop trying to wake him and focus on easing his passing.

The consort's death would mean the ascension of a new High Priestess and consort. The two were bound for life. It was said a piece of their souls were exchanged in a durable vow, like the original vow between the Ancients, Pallavi ar Jörgrund and her consort, Lupin.

Leon crossed his muscular arms. "She won't be able to win the feats if she's too injured and tired to even compete."

"She won't be able to win the feats if she's weak and incompetent." Sylas ran his thumb over a smooth stone in his palm. "Some of us have greater expectations to meet," he said quieter.

Taron and I stayed silent during their exchange. One thing had become clear over the past few days. Whatever issue Sylas and Leon had between them, it ran deep. But it always boiled just beneath the surface.

"Some of us have to make do with the shit we're dealt," Leon spat. "Come, Hrida. It's time to rest."

He began walking back toward my cottage. Taron slung my quiver over his shoulder and we followed.

A fire roared in the hearth. Leon poured boiling water into my steaming bath tub. A thin cloth screen separated it from the rest of the room. A new addition to my cottage. Sylas brought it from his room after he became frustrated that they had to leave for my nightly bath after training instead of strategizing into the night.

I inhaled the steam, already filling the small room. "Did you add lavender?"

Leon didn't meet my eyes. "You always smelled of lavender after you bathed."

I blinked at him. I wasn't used to being taken care of. When I lived with my family, I'd been the oldest child, in charge of caring for the other children. At the orphanage, it was similar. As a priest, it was my responsibility to care for everyone on the eastern continent. To pray for them and to heal them.

"Thank you," I whispered to Leon as I passed him, slipping behind the cloth screen.

"Eldrassyl already answers her call," Taron said. I could barely hear his voice over the crackling of the fire. "The first feat should be simple."

"But the hunt?" Sylas said. "And the labyrinth? She can't manipulate the stone."

I tuned out their low voices as I undressed and lowered myself into the hot water. I sucked in a breath as it lapped at the wound across my spine. Red blood bloomed in the water. I reached my hand over my shoulder and gently touched the throbbing wound.

It must have reopened during Taron's drills today.

I quickly cleaned myself and stepped out of the bath. Though the screen separated us, it still felt strange to be naked in a room filled with men.

"Your back is bleeding," Sylas remarked.

I spun around, clutching my clean dress to my chest. He sat in a chair by the fire. One green eye was visible at the edge of the screen. His eye disappeared as I heard a punch.

"What the hell, wolf?"

"Were you watching her bathe?"

I pulled my dress over my head, leaving the lacing undone, and peeked around the screen. Sylas rubbed his arm and glared at the other two men.

"The wound on her back isn't healing," Sylas stated.

Leon's golden gaze landed on me. "Is that true?"

I tucked my wet hair behind my ear. "I couldn't reach it to put the healing salve on it."

"You could have asked one of us to do it."

I raised an eyebrow at him and pointed at the men. "Sylas would insist on meticulously cleaning the wound twice a day, Taron would insist on doing it his way, and ... I didn't want to worry you."

"Why would it worry me?" Leon narrowed his eyes.

I pressed my lips together and bounced on the balls of my feet.

Leon sighed. "Because it keeps reopening during training."

Sylas may have seemed like the shrewd one of the trio, but Leon always noticed things. He was always observing, always committing everything to memory.

"I insist I care for Rowyn's wounds," Sylas lifted a finger. "Surely the two of you can agree that she must heal."

I opened my mouth to argue, but Sylas's eyes went wide as he tilted his head.

"Something's wrong—"

The ground at my feet shuddered. Leon was at my side in an instant. He curled over me, shielding me from falling debris.

"An earthquake?" Taron yelled.

Sylas pressed a hand to the floor. "It's strange. Some kind of magic—"

Glass jars and vials fell from their shelves, shattering in sprays of oil and herbs. The stone cracked beneath us. Leon scooped me into his arms and shouldered the door open.

Sylas and Taron jumped outside as my cottage crumbled, falling into a dark chasm that rended the ground. Shock gripped my body, and I clung to Leon.

My home was gone. Completely gone.

It all happened so quickly.

We watched as the fissure spread across the rumbling earth, cutting through the stream. Water tumbled into the ravine.

"Are you okay?" Leon set me on my feet.

I nodded. "What was tha—"

A sharp crack split the air, and red leaves showered the ground among massive white branches.

I ran blindly for the great tree. Shouts rang above the thunderous noise, but I ignored them.

The people in the temple. The priests. The orphanage.

Eldrassyl.

I looked up to see the ancient tree's trunk had ripped open. Priests dressed in gold and white surrounded the temple.

I fell to my knees in the grass as wails filled the air.

Eldrassyl, the great tree, the protector of this land, was split in two.

"Are you sure she'll be safe here?" Leon frowned at the carvings on the stone walls. "We're under the ground that just swallowed a forest."

"It's the temple dormitory," Sylas replied dryly. "She'll be surrounded by earth elementals who can manipulate stone. There's nowhere safer."

I hesitated at the doorway to my old room. I hadn't been back to the temple dormitory since I'd left and moved to the cottage years ago. I preferred the garden where I could feel the thousands of plants thrumming with mana. When I was barefoot, I could feel every root that dug through the lush soil, searching for the water of the sacred wellspring far below.

Most earth elementals felt at ease underground, surrounded by their element. But it wasn't my element. Most would feel the steady magic of the earth, anchoring and soothing. Instead, only coldness seeped into my bare feet.

I hugged myself. I didn't belong here. Priests whispered to each other as they walked through the dormitory halls. Talk of the earthquake filled the stone halls.

"The apocalypse?"

"What else could it be?"

"Is Pallavi punishing us?"

"What for?"

A young woman with long, straight hair the color of spring leaves stopped in front of us. Helna, another earth elemental priestess. She was about my age and had started her studies at the same time I had.

"Sylas!" She smiled at the priest beside me, flashing dimples in her round cheeks. "We're all praying at the wellspring in the morning for Pallavi's forgiveness."

"Okay," Sylas said, letting the word hang in the air.

Helna twisted a lock of her hair. "Won't you be joining us? You haven't been spending much time in the sanctum lately."

"I've been busy with other matters," Sylas answered flatly.

Taron cleared his throat, though it sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Helna glanced between Sylas and the rest of us as though she suddenly realized we were there. "Well, if you're done with other matters, your duty as a priest is to pray. Especially in times like these."

She jerked her chin up and strutted down the hall to another set of rooms.

Sylas opened the door to my room, apparently no longer willing to wait for me to do it myself. "I'll send for a servant to clean your room." He ran a finger over the ornate wooden dresser and inspected the layer of dust that came away. "It looks like no one has been in here since you left."

"It's fine," I said, entering the dark room. "I can clean it myself."

"Rest," Leon commanded, pushing me toward the large canopy bed.

Taron went directly to the fireplace and began arranging the wood to start a fire. "Listen to your nanny. For once, he's right."

Leon grumbled to himself as he moved around the room, lighting my old lanterns. The room was just as I left it. A plush seating area surrounded the fireplace. Intricate carvings of tree roots, vines, and flowers twisted around the wooden furniture.

I sat on the bed in a puff of dust and hugged my knees to my chest. I'd lost everything. My cottage had been my refuge, my apothecary, and my home.

The bed dipped as Sylas climbed onto the bed behind me.

"What are you doing?" I looked at him over my shoulder.

Sylas held up a jar of green paste. "I had this in my hands when the earthquake hit."

It was my healing salve.

I held out my hand. "I'll do it."

"You said yourself that you couldn't reach." He pulled the jar away from my grasp. He lowered his voice to a whisper as his gaze searched mine. "You let Leon take care of you."

My retort died on my lips. Sylas looked strangely vulnerable. Like the next words out of my mouth could break him.

So, I said nothing. I turned away from him and shifted my dress on my shoulders, pulling the unlaced back open. Gentle fingers stroked my spine, bringing goosebumps to my skin. I bit my cheek as the sting of my potent healing cream spread across my back. His other hand drew gentle circles and lines on my skin. The delicate touch sent tingles down my nerves and chased away some of the pain.

A sigh escaped me as he finished, but his warm touch lingered on my lower back.

"This fire should last you the night." Taron stood and propped his hands on his hips, surveying his handiwork. "I've got to check on the damage to the barracks. I'll see you in the morning for training. I have the perfect obstacle course." He winked at me. "The recruits hate it."

I groaned and dragged my hands down my face. He wasn't going to let me get out of training. They really were serious about this High Priestess business.

"My room is two doors down," Sylas said. He crawled out of bed with wooden movements and nodded jerkily. "I'll be here in a moment if I feel anything out of the ordinary again."

With that, he left, and it was just Leon and me.

I expected him to say something similar, but he simply stood in the corner, his arms crossed.

"Do you need to check on your camp?" I rolled my shoulders. The stinging of my healing salve had turned to ice. I'd have to be careful not to sleep on the wound.

"My second-in-command should be handling things. If she needs help, she'll find me."

I rummaged in my old dresser, finding only a thin nightdress and a single sock. I pulled out the nightdress and turned to Leon. "It's getting late."

"It is."

"I'm going to bed."

"Okay."

I stared at him. Did I have to spell it out?

Leon sat on the chaise lounge by the fire. "I'm not leaving you. There could be aftershocks."

I didn't have the energy to argue with him. After a day of intense training and an apparently apocalyptic earthquake that swallowed my home and wounded the great tree, I was tired.

Tossing the nightdress back into its drawer, I flopped face-first onto the dusty bed. "You'd better not snore."

"You look like shit," Leon remarked as he opened the door for Skye. I looked up from the bed and rubbed sleep from my eyes. I hadn't moved from the place I'd dropped onto my bed.

Skye frowned. Dark circles dulled his normally sharp green eyes. "Let me in."

Leon stood in the doorway. His broad shoulders nearly scraped the sides. "No."

"I'm almost dressed!" I called from the bed.

"She's not dressed?" Sylas growled.

I jumped to my feet and began pulling at the laces at the back of my dress. The pain from the wound on my back had dulled to a faint ache overnight. It itched as the cloth of my dress tightened around my ribs.

My dress was smudged with dirt and grass already. I'd have to stop by the linen closet for new priest robes. All of my others were swallowed by that chasm.

The breath flew out of my lungs as the events of the night came back. My cottage was gone. Eldrassyl's trunk was split in two.

The temple is tainted.

The wellspring is poisoned.

I went into the attached bathroom and splashed water on my face. I may not have looked as tired as Sylas, but I wasn't far behind. I smoothed my wild emerald hair and tied it up in a ponytail.

Back in my room, I tapped Leon on the shoulder. "You don't have to let him in, I'm coming out."

Though Helna's invitation to prayer was directed at Sylas, I felt the pull to pray with the others this morning. I'd stopped going to daily prayers before I moved out of the dormitory. I always felt closer to the Ancients when I was praying in the temple gardens, feeling the magic of the wellspring as it nurtured life above ground.

But today was different. Eldrassyl was wounded, and the temple grounds were torn apart. If this wasn't a time to pray at the wellspring, I didn't know what was.

Leon moved aside, revealing Sylas and Taron in the hallway. Sylas wore gold and white priest robes. A long tailored tunic hugged his lean body. Taron had dressed in his worn sentinel leathers. His copper hair was braided from his face.

The three men looked at me expectantly.

"I'm going to the wellspring," I said.

Priests flowed through the hallway, sparing odd looks at our group, nearly blocking the wide passageway.

Taron smirked. "You actually think praying to the Ancients will solve this? They haven't listened to our prayers in a long time."

"It can't hurt." I shrugged. I didn't know what else to do.

Sylas began walking with the flow of priests. "Come on."

I jogged to catch up with him before he disappeared into the sea of gold, white, and green. A glance over my shoulder confirmed that Taron and Leon were following.

"Do you think it's a waste of time, too?" I asked, just loud enough for Sylas to hear.

"No." Sylas's gate was steady, but fast. We turned at the entrance to the stairwell. Depictions of Pallavi and Lupin decorated the archway.

I slowed as we neared. I'd never seen our Ancients, but the generations of priests before me had. Pallavi held her hands outstretched at the center of the archway, beckoning. Her face had always seemed kind. Something about the gentle slope of her eyes and the soft curve of her mouth.

A warm hand grasped mine, and I realized I'd stopped. Priests continued to stream through the temple, parting around me. Sylas tugged on my hand and led me through the archway.

The stone stairwell twisted in a spiral, descending deep into the earth. The temperature dropped with every step until my bare feet were going numb. Sylas's warm hand still held mine. His heat eased some of the chill that crept into my blood.

The stairwell opened into a magnificent cavern. The low chanting of prayers echoed in the vast space. Torches burned along the natural stone walls, illuminating glittering crystals that jotted out from the stone face. Priestess Mara told me that decades ago, these crystals used to glow, bathing the sanctum in pale moonlight.

As I walked toward the wellspring, a pool of clear water in the center of the cavern, I wished I could see the sanctum like that. I imagined Pallavi herself emerging from the water. Her kind face broke the glasslike surface of the water and she smiled.

Sylas tugged on my hand again, knocking me from my head. Priests arranged themselves around the wellspring. They knelt on the uneven stone, ducking their chins and raising their palms in front of them. The prayer was meant to offer and ask in one motion. We offer our prayers to the Ancients and ask for their blessing in return.

I knelt beside Sylas. The stone was hard against my knees. The icy cold seeped through the thin layers of my dress, making me shiver. I raised my palms and whispered the prayer that echoed in the sanctum. It was a familiar prayer, asking for grace and protection.

But the words felt hollow on my lips.

Wynra spoke fondly of the time when she ascended as High Priestess. The mana drought had already begun, but the old priests remembered when they could feel Pallavi's presence in the sanctum. They didn't hear her voice or see her face, but they could feel her there.

But now, though dozens of priests filled the cavern, their voices vibrating the air, it felt empty. Like the stomach of a starving man. It was an emptiness one could feel. An emptiness that meant more than vacancy. It was an emptiness that meant destruction. Like the body of a starving man grew thin as it fought to survive, the world was cannibalizing itself.

Despite the cold, sweat gathered on my brow. My hands shook, as though they carried the weight of my revelation.

My prayers ceased as I swallowed thickly against the bile that burned my throat. Pallavi wasn't here. Our prayers bounced on the walls, but went nowhere.

I jumped to my feet and ran from the sanctum. The voices of the priests swallowed the sound of my bare feet slapping on the stone. I didn't stop until I reached the temple's main hall and grand doors. They were closed.

I lifted the timber barring the door, and pushed. The heavy door opened with a groan. I slipped through the crack and into the morning light. Strong wind whipped at my hair and dress, plastering it to my legs.

Tears gathered in my eyes as I looked out over the grounds. Huge white branches dotted the green landscape. They tangled in the leaves of the forest, blocked paths, and collapsed the roofs of the stable. Smoke rose from further down the hill. Heilsteinn.

Of course, the temple wasn't the only place affected by the earthquakes. Perhaps the entire continent was.

My gaze turned upward to the tattered canopy of the great tree. Dark gray sky filled the voids left by pure white branches and blood red leaves. Eldrassyl's colossal trunk splintered in the middle, splitting nearly down to the temple built into its base. Milky sap bled from the wound.

"It's horrible, isn't it?"

I startled at the low voice, barely rising above the harsh wind. A man sat on the granite steps, his shoulders hunched. His green hair was streaked with gray. He gathered the ragged remains of his shawl and wrapped them tightly around his thin shoulders.

"It is," I rasped.

I may have doubted my place in the temple for years, but I'd never doubted the temple or the Ancients. But now, it all felt hopeless. The Ancients had disappeared. Magic faded from the land. The priests prayed, but if the Ancients were powerless to answer, what was the point?

Blood smeared on the stone at the man's feet. We were the only ones on the steps to the temple.

I stepped closer to him. "Are you here for the clinic?"

"No," the man grumbled. "I came to make an offering, but the temple's doors were closed."

"Your feet are bleeding," I noted.

The man rested his head in his hands. "It doesn't matter."

I sat beside him on the steps. The frigid wind blew in powerful gusts, stripping the heat from my body, but I didn't care. I was already numb.

"Where are you from?" I asked. He wasn't a priest, and he wasn't a servant, so he must have been a pilgrim.

"A village in Vinegrove."

I inspected his clothing. He didn't wear shoes, and his clothing was torn and threadbare.

"Haven't had shoes in years." He stared at my feet, red from the cold. "Usually I don't mind it, but the roads cut me up."

"You walked all this way for an offering?"

"Just a desperate hope, I guess. But the doors were closed." His Adam's apple bobbed, and he cleared his throat. "They warned me at the gate. Told me the priests had bigger issues to deal with than the affairs of an old man."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a round seed the size of a walnut. White and red marbled the smooth surface.

"A heila seed?" My brow furrowed. The temple tightly controlled the holy seeds, only planting them on temple grounds.

"There's an old tale in my village that the Ancient herself gave it to us centuries ago to aid us in a time of need." The man's dirty hand closed around the seed. "Well, now's the time."

My expression softened. "You came to offer the heila seed on behalf of your village."

If the village had a heila seed they believed Pallavi herself had gifted them, this was their most precious treasure.

"What's happened in your village?" I asked.

"Blight."

My lips thinned as I nodded. The villages relied on their farms for their livelihoods.

The man let out a dry chuckle. "The second one in two years. We barely survived the last." He glanced sideways at me. "You're a priest. Will you make the offering for me?"

I absently stroked my dry throat. The Ancients were this man's last hope. I didn't have the heart to tell him that his offering would be made to a hollow sanctum. That his desperate prayers would go unanswered.

A blight often meant the end of a village. I was surprised they'd survived the first. Infection spread through the crops quickly. Indiscriminately. It didn't seem to follow the same rules as pests and disease. It infected everything and responded to nothing.

The Ancients were their only hope.

I sighed heavily, twisting my hands in my lap. I'd never tried to treat blight before, but I hadn't encountered a diseased plant I couldn't cure.

Warnings of dangerous roads, daeva, and the events of Heilsteinn rose to mind. Normally, I would offer to travel to his village and help him, but I'd be putting myself in danger for a slim chance that I could help.

Agree to make the offering for him.
Suggest I return with him to his village.

Vote here!

Chapter 8

The man held up the red and white heila seed to me in his cupped palms. He knelt on the stairs below me, as though he were praying to the Ancients.

"Please, Priestess." His voice quivered. His tattered shawl caught in the growing wind and fell from his shoulders. "I cannot return to them without—"

"I can't," I blurted, scrambling away from him. The thought of returning to the sanctum made my stomach roil. "With the earthquake, the sanctum is full." I wiped my sweaty hands on my dress. "How far is your village?"

"I left my village yesterday afternoon."

"You walked overnight?" My voice was quiet. It barely rose above the wind.

He nodded, still holding the heila seed out to me.

"What's your name?" I asked. If I were to travel with him, I figured we should introduce ourselves. "You can call me Rowyn."

"Priestess Rowyn," he said, like he was pondering my name. "I'm Hallad Garel."

"Can you take me to your village, Hallad?" I asked. "My elemental magic is—" I twisted the leather band on my finger. "I take care of the temple gardens, so I'm usually very good with plants. I can try to help..."

The man reached out grabbing my hands. Tears gathered in his light green eyes. He slipped something warm and round into my palm. The heila seed. It pulsed with power as it touched my skin, beating like a heart in my palm.

"I knew it," he whispered. "The Ancient left this seed to save us." He patted my hand, curling it around the seed. "To aid us in a time of need. She knew you would help us." He shook his head, disbelieving. "A weaver."

Weaver.

Hallad had called me a weaver.

I clasped the heila seed in my pocket as I climbed the spiral stairwell at the center of Eldrassyl's trunk. My bare feet pressed against the wood of the great tree. Its strength filled me as I ascended. The floor and walls were undecorated and rough, carved by the magic of a priestess thousands of years ago. The legendary Heila Weaver.

Her story was a favorite of Mara's, and she'd told it many times at the orphanage while the children gathered around the hearth after dinner, hanging on every word.

The Heila Weaver had been the Eastern High Priestess thousands of years ago. She'd planted and nurtured groves of heila trees on temple grounds. Usually, it took the magic of dozens of priests to grow a heila tree, but the trees sprouted eagerly for the Weaver.

During her time, the holy trees sheltered the temple grounds from the worst of the storms. Though she tried to plant them elsewhere, the trees withered without the water of the wellspring and the magic of the priests.

Storms had battered the continent. Floods had swept away entire villages, and heat waves had scorched the Emerald Plains, killing everything the sun touched.

The earth elementals and druids were on the brink of extinction.

So, the Weaver prayed. In the sanctum, she whispered to the glittering water, shining with mana and lit by the glowing crystals. She prayed to Pallavi for ten days. The water of the sacred wellspring was her only sustenance. She chanted in the old tongue until her pleas reached the ears of the Ancient in the Aether.

The Weaver prayed for protection of her people.

And Pallavi answered.

The Ancient emerged from the wellspring, her consort, Lupin, beside her. Pallavi chose one of the many heila trees planted by the Weaver. With the Ancient's magic, the heila tree grew into Eldrassyl. Its boughs would protect our people and feed off the magic of the wellspring. And it had for nearly four thousand years.

But things were changing.

I knocked at the doorway to the High Priestess's office. High Priestess Wynra paced along the large window overlooking the temple gardens. There was no pane of glass, and the wind blew through the white branches that grew in the opening, twisting around each other.

Elder priests stood at a round table, hewn from Eldrassyl's core. Scrolls and maps spread across the surface, weighted down with stones. Taron was among them, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

"Rowyn." High Priestess Wynra paused her pacing. "Come in. You've visited many villages. Perhaps you have insight."

The elders' attention landed on me, and I resisted the urge to shrink into myself. Priestess Mara smiled warmly at me.

I stepped warily into the room. "I've actually come to make a request."

The room seemed to chill, and a few elders exchanged glances.

"The temple is damaged, Eldrassyl is injured, and you've come to make a request?" A priest I recognized as Diar leveled me with a cold stare.

"Let's hear her out." Taron stretched his arms over his head. "We've been going in circles, anyway."

"So be it." Wynra blew out a breath. "What is your request, Rowyn?"

I bowed my head briefly to her. "I'd like your approval to travel to a small village in Vinegrove to treat their fields. An elemental man is here representing his village. Their crops failed last year and are in danger of the same this year."

"Vinegrove?" Diar scoffed. "They are under the shelter of Eldrassyl."

"Is he lying?"

"He could be working for the daeva, luring priests from the temple."

Mara clasped her hands under her chin. "Let's not jump to such conclusions of our own people. He came here for our help."

Wynra listened to the elders, a frown on her face. "You're sure he's telling the truth?" she asked me.

Bile rose in my throat. They hadn't seen the desperation in Hallad's eyes. His bleeding feet. His shaking voice.

"I'm certain," I said through clenched teeth. "It was my idea to offer my help."

I decided to keep the heila seed in my pocket a secret. They'd likely accuse him of stealing it, and the punishment for stealing a holy seed was death. Hallad must have known that, yet he still came to offer it to a priest for the chance to save his village.

"I think we should let her do it," Taron said frankly. "The people in the countryside are becoming disillusioned with the temple. A visit from a priest may placate them temporarily."

I expected the elders to show more concern about my safety among the villagers since I'd been attacked in Heilsteinn, but no one spoke of it. Leon's accusation came to mind. Did they even know?

"They spread superstitions about the priests and the temple." Wynra's fingers tapped a frantic rhythm on her arm. "Their fear clouds their minds and turns them from the Ancients."

"Their lack of faith is ... disappointing," Diar stated. He stroked a braid of his graying forest green hair.

"But that's why I must go." I stepped further into the room. The elders spoke of faith and fear, but they hadn't left temple grounds in decades. They hadn't spoken to the villagers and townspeople like I had. "They are afraid and starving. If the temple doesn't offer them an answer, they may turn elsewhere."

Taron's lips turned up as I spoke. "As you said yourself, High Priestess, Rowyn has traveled the countryside and visited villages. I suggest we take her experience into consideration."

"Fear is a powerful emotion," Mara added. "It can splinter or it can unify. Faith is not a solid stone in the river. It is the river itself, filling when there is rain and dwindling when there is drought. It is up to us to fill their river when the skies are empty."

The people outside the temple had thrown accusations and insults at me. They'd even tried to kill and imprison me, but I'd taken a vow to serve and aid them. If the Heila Weaver had prayed for ten days without ceasing to protect our people, I could travel to a single village.

Wynra slumped into a polished chair beside the window. She watched the city of Heilsteinn below. Dark smoke still swelled in the gray sky.

"Alright, you may travel to Vinegrove, but you must return in two days for the Heila Festival." Wynra's gaze swept over the elders before settling on me. "You will lead the ritual."

A mix of whispers, gasps, and grumbles filled the room. The High Priestess led all rituals. If Wynra was instructing me to lead instead, she was clearly stating her intent to nominate me as her successor.

I struggled to form words in my tight throat. Taron and Sylas had told me as much, but to hear it from Wynra made it real.

I would attempt the feats and if I passed, I would ascend as the next High Priestess of the Eastern Temple. Mara beamed at me, but the other elders looked at me with skepticism.

"Thank you, High Priestess." I bowed deeply to her, avoiding the heavy expressions of the elders. "I will be back in time."

"It will be dangerous. Do not go alone." Wynra's tone was stern, like it had been in the garden when she'd insisted I take Sylas and Taron with me to Kaldfjell.

I wouldn't argue this time.

Taron caught up to me in the winding stairwell. His armor clinked and creaked with his quick steps.

I had two days to travel to Hallad's village and return in time for the Heila Festival.

"You felt it, didn't you?" Taron said as we reached the main halls of the temple.

"Felt what?" We passed few priests in the hallways. They must have still been praying.

"In the sanctum." Taron pitched his voice low.

I slowed my pace and glanced at him. But he wasn't wearing the impish smirk I'd expected. He wasn't gloating. He was serious.

"That's the problem," I whispered. It felt like heresy to say my thoughts aloud. If another priest were to hear me, I would be punished. "I didn't feel anything."

Taron nodded grimly. "Maybe the superstitious people of the villages are more sensitive to the changes than the esteemed priests of the temple."

I chewed my lip the rest of the way to my room. Leon perked up as I opened the door. He sat on the chaise lounge that he'd slept on last night, a fire poker in his hand.

"You're back." He set the poker against the stone fireplace.

Sylas stood at the opposite end of the room, his arms crossed.

"And so are you," I directed at Sylas.

Sylas rolled his eyes. "This door locks. You have no excuse."

I let my hair down and ran a hand through my loose waves. "Just because I want some people in my room doesn't mean I want everyone in my room."

"You left the sanctum."

I stopped at the foot of my bed. A haphazardly folded pile of clothing sat next to a plate of charred meat on the bed. "What's this?"

Leon scratched the back of his neck. "I brought you some clothes from the camp. You're about the same size as Nina, but she doesn't have any skirts or dresses."

"And the meat?"

"You haven't eaten since yesterday."

"Thank you." I pressed my fingers to my lips to hide my smile.

I ate while I caught them up about Hallad and my plan to travel to his village.

"You should change now." Leon gestured at the clothing he'd brought. "It may be more dangerous if you wear your priest robes. Right now, priests are a target of both daeva and angry Poradans."

"The elders are right to be concerned," Sylas said. "We don't know anything about this man or his village."

I picked a soft long sleeve shirt and dark trousers from the pile. "I trust him."

"You trust anyone who gives you a sob story and a few tears."

"I don't trust you."

Sylas lifted his chin. "I've never cried or told you a story."

I walked to the bathroom and partially shut the door so I could change.

"His village needs help with their crops." I unlaced my dress and let it fall in a pool at my feet. "I figured I could help."

"What's wrong with his village's crops?" Sylas asked dubiously.

Though my injuries had mostly healed, my shoulder still ached as I slipped the shirt over my head. "Blight."

Sylas sighed. "Even you can't cure blight."

"I have to try." I carefully threaded my bandaged arm through the sleeve.

"You're being awfully quiet, wolf," Sylas said.

"I already said my part to the High Priestess and the temple elders," Taron responded. His tone dripped with condescension.

I quickly pulled on the pair of trousers, pulling at the tight-fitted material that stuck to my skin. I opened the bathroom door as Sylas and Taron were trading glares.

I searched my pile of discarded clothes for my scant belongings and grabbed the seed Hallad had given me. The marbled red and white sphere was warm in my palm. Its magic called out to me like Eldrassyl did in Heilsteinn.

"He gave me a heila seed."

"So he's a thief as well as a liar." Sylas came closer until he was inches from me. "We can't afford to go running after every peasant's little problems while the temple crumbles around us."

"Step back," Leon warned. He'd stayed silent for the discussion, but suddenly, he was at my side.

"I'm not one of your mercenaries. I don't follow your orders."

I moved to walk around them, closer to the fire that dimly lit the room. I'd learned to simply avoid Sylas and Leon when they began fighting. Only the Ancients could prevent their squabbles.

I inspected the seed in the flickering light. My magic jumped to the surface, begging to be released. "He called me a weaver."

Leon's brow wrinkled. "What's a weaver?"

"The Heila Weaver is an eastern legend," I said. "The priestess that pled for the earthen continent, leading Pallavi to plant Eldrassyl. I'm surprised you've never heard it."

Leon cleared his throat, glancing at Sylas. "I had a ... sheltered upbringing."

Sylas pinched the bridge of his nose. "The Heila Weaver is the only elemental whose magic was strong enough to grow heila trees without help from dozens of elementals. If Eldrassyl answered Rowyn's call in Heilsteinn, it would make sense if Rowyn also held this power."

"The High Priestess said something else," Taron ran a finger over the druid mark on his neck. "Rowyn must be back in two days so she can lead the heila ritual."

Sylas stiffened, and his sage green eyes slid to me. "Then we're out of time."