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My eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”
Instead of replying, she removes a dagger from her side, uses it to slice her palm. “Now that you like masks again—”
“You mean, now that I’ve reclaimed them,” I correct, reminding her.
For much of Otera, masks are a symbol of oppression: women are required to wear them to show not only that they are the property of men but also that they are pious and obedient. But I like to wear war masks whenever I go on a mission, as the ultimate symbol of my status as a warrior. For me, war masks are a symbol of self-expression, signaling that I can not only protect myself; I can protect others.
Belcalis nods, holding out her bleeding palm. “Now that you’ve reclaimed them,” she repeats dryly, “I have a gift for you.” As I watch, awed, her blood rises into the air and spins like threads to form a delicate, almost invisible golden mask that allows my skin to show through, giving the illusion that my face is covered by golden scales the same way my dress is. More like a shimmer than a mask.
“Belcalis…,” I breathe, astonished.
I’d forgotten about this, that my friends’ divine gifts can be used not only to protect themselves but also to entertain, to amuse, and even to create.
And create she has. In all the years I’ve worn masks, seen masks, I’ve never seen anything like this.
“It’s beautiful,” Britta says. “How did ye learn to do that?”
“I didn’t.” Belcalis shrugs. “I just thought I could make it, and so I did.” She returns her attention to me, her dark eyes peering into mine. “No matter what happens at the meeting, no matter what we encounter, I just want you to know that you carry my love and strength with you.”
“That ye carry all our love and strength,” Britta affirms.
I glance from her back to Belcalis, tears pricking at my eyes. “Oh, you two,” I say, sobbing now. I gather Britta close, then gesture to Belcalis, waiting until she steps forward to put my arms around her.
Belcalis has endured so much, suffered such atrocity, she rarely allows herself to touch or be touched. You have to ask her for permission, have to wait for her to be comfortable.
So I do just that, breathing in tandem a few seconds with her until her body relaxes. “Thank you,” I whisper to her. “Thank you.”
Belcalis nods, hooking her arm in mine. “Now we can go.”
Britta swiftly does the same to my other arm, and just like that, we’re out the door and into the light-filled hallway, where Keita, Lamin, and Li are waiting.
They’ve all been given new clothes as well.
Lamin is now dressed like all the other godsworn of Sarla, in sedate white robes with a cloak whose hood he only partly allows to conceal his face. “Evening greetings, Deka,” he says, ducking his head shyly.
I manage a swift nod despite the fury I still feel over the revelations of his misdeeds. “Evening greetings, Lamin,” I reply coldly.
Then I turn my attention to Keita and Li, who are both wearing vaguely similar robes, that fury still simmering deep inside me. I still haven’t decided how I should address Lamin’s betrayal. At least with Adwapa and Asha, they were sent to the Warthu Bera, the training ground where we all learned to become warriors, specifically to ensure my safety. They were always on my side. Lamin, however…The mere thought of it upsets me, so I focus my gaze on Keita. His new robes are dark blue, his favorite color, so he and I look like a matching set, although his clothing has none of the accents that mine does. Keita has always been a simple dresser.
The most decoration he allows is a simple circlet, but like mine, his has blue coral threaded through the gold.
Li, on the other hand, is at his most flamboyant. His robes are iridescent green and purple, like the brightly colored glimmerbirds that display their tails on Otera’s amarul trees when greeting the sunrise. Gold embroiders his neckline and hems, and yet more gold drips from the golden circlet around his brow into his long black hair, which has been brushed to silken brilliance.
Li preens when we approach, showing off the long gold earrings affixed to both ears.
“Don’t they suit me so perfectly?”
“Of course they do, ye bloody glimmerbird,” Britta sniffs, even though there’s appreciation in her eyes, and another, more primal feeling I’m not certain I want to see.
It feels too private, too intimate to intrude upon.
Li gathers her close. “You know you like it,” he whispers in her ear.
I ignore them and keep my eyes fixed on Keita, who hasn’t quite noticed me yet, he’s so busy surveying the room for threats. Just watching him stops my breath. I’ve never seen him so elegantly dressed, so handsome. The attendants have even paid special attention to his hairline, fading away the hair there while allowing the little coils that have grown over the past few months to flourish at the top.
The whole effect emphasizes his eyes, which glow in the low evening light.
Suddenly, I’m warm and flushed all over.
