“You knew!”
“Here come the apprentices with the gowns,” Edne said.
I stood, brushing off my cloak. Several young people descended the stairs, led by an older priestess holding a lantern. They came with a hum of excitement, but a seriousness that indicated the gravity of the moment.
I cringed when a girl approached me, extending her arms.
“May I hold your garments, Princess?” she asked.
Her little face was so hopeful, and I dreaded disappointing her. Sainte was removing his tunic while a boy waited on him, features etched with awe.
“Sainte,” I hissed between my teeth.
It was one thing to get undressed in front of women, to lie naked in a bed, concealed by blankets and furs. But disrobing before an audience? That was too much.
His eyes found mine as he struggled out of his tunic, wincing from the pain of his bruises. He paused, studying me for a moment, trying to discern what could be wrong. Then realization dawned. “A robe,” he said.
A little girl ran up to him, offering a swath of thin white cloth. He accepted it with a nod and stepped closer to me. Spreading it wide, he held it out, a feeble wall of privacy.
“They study the body. Nudity is simply baring their canvas to heal,” he said, as if that was his reasoning for stripping before a meager crowd.
“Feel free to bare your goods,” I mumbled, unclasping my cloak behind the relative safety he provided. “But I’ll keep mine covered, if you don’t mind.”
When I held the garment out, a small hand grabbed it with a giggle. I hurried to undress. After the last of my things passed the fabric, the young priestess offered a silken white shift.
I stared at it, shook it out, then examined it again. “I’m bathing in this?”
“You’ll be covered,” Sainte said.
A slight strain edged his words, and I realized it must be taking a toll on him to hold the robe up for so long.
“This doesn’t cover any more than a bride’s veil!” I growled, pulling on the simple gown. The fabric sent a chill through me as it touched my skin. I crossed my arms over my chest and cursed in four languages.
Slowly, Sainte lowered the cover. His gaze traveled from my hair, down my frame, to my toes peeking out from beneath the hem. A faint smile flickered on his lips before he cleared his throat and turned, passing the robe to a small boy.
As Sainte openly disrobed, I wandered over to Edne, who watched us with a knowing grin.
“Have you led a velebond ritual before?” I asked, crouching to test the pool. It was surprisingly warm, and I jerked my hand away before dipping my fingertips back in.
“Never.”
“You’ve seen it done then?” I swirled my fingers in the liquid. It felt like water, but thicker. The trail I left along the surface lingered longer than it would in a drinking well.
“Nay.”
I looked up at her with a frown. “Have your teachers ever completed it?”
“No.”
Was this tradition so ancient that no living person witnessed it? My father never had a Valahant, but I assumed it wasn’t so far removed from history for Anderz to recommend it.
I pushed to stand, glaring at her mirthful countenance. “I assume, then, that you have records of this that you’ll be following?”
“The velebond is not documented, because there are no established rules. The Valahant creates them.”
“Can I say I don’t want to get in?”
She chuckled and wagged her finger at me. “Dear princess, you will follow your Valahant until he chooses to let you lead.”
