“No. None.”
He sighs, a heavy sound that makes him appear even shorter, even older. “The trip was as awful as you could expect. Your uncle has never been a good man. But since he has taken power he has become worse than I could have possibly imagined.”
“Where is Maharaja Moolek now? I thought he was coming to Naupure to re-sign the treaty.”
“He did come. He is at Belwar Palace. He insisted upon staying there. That makes me nervous, of course, but I couldn’t refuse.”
My body turns to stone. Maharaja Moolek is at Belwar Palace. Which means…he’s under the same roof as Adraa. “What does he want in Belwar?” I demand.
Anguish washes over my father’s face. “What I’m afraid he has always wanted—Adraa.”
In the past few weeks my dreams have amped up full force. It’s stress. It has to be, and yet, in my dreams I live in a world of red. And in this place fear penetrates every part of my body like a sword gutting me. Something is coming. Something bad is coming.
“You must perform for the nine gods. You must complete the ceremony,” a female voice hisses at me. She repeats it over and over. “It’s the only way. Sometimes one must die so others can live,” she says.
Listening to the voice makes the fear disappear. I try to hold back at first, try to explain how I need more time to determine the Vencrin threat. “I need to be the Red Woman!” I shout at the voice. By the end, every time, I give in as the fear swallows me.
The night Maharaja Moolek proposed marriage, the dream grew worse. The fear pressed in on me like fire.
Since I can’t sleep, I train. But after white magic spell upon white magic spell fails, I stop. I haven’t performed my morning prayers in weeks. Guess in times like these most people would consult the gods. I might as well try too.
I walk to the temple slowly, not wanting to grovel to Dloc so early. Dread fills my gut like I’m an orb about to bust. Stress does that, feels like it’s unending and limitless, like it will keep eating at you until nothing is left.
As I trudge up the steps, I’m surprised to spot Prisha praying.
Instead of calling out, I kneel beside her. She starts. “You’re normally asleep this early in the morning,” she says.
I guess she’s more observant of my comings and goings than I thought. “Yeah, I guess I am. Do you come here every morning?”
“Most days.”
I never knew she was so devout. What could she possibly be praying for that much? I’ve seen her in the clinic and on the training field with Hiren. At fifteen she has a good grasp on all nine types of magic, better than I was at her age. Back then, I was failing white magic consistently. Who am I kidding? I’m still failing at white magic.
“Were you ever scared?” Prisha whispers.
I stare at her. She doesn’t look at me; she’s still in the position of meditation, her eyes wide, gazing at Laeh’s pillar.
“Scared of what?” There are just so many things now.
“Your forte.” Finally, she turns to me. “I mean, did you want to be Erif Touched?”
“I didn’t pray for it if that’s what you’re wondering. But I was scared. No, actually I was terrified. I thought I wouldn’t be chosen at all. Since I was little, Mom and Dad and Maharaja Naupure told me they”—I nod toward the pillars—“were fighting over me. I was so afraid the gods would give up the fight and I would be left Untouched.”
She nods, but I can tell it’s not the answer she was looking for. My sister is normal; she never had to deal with the prospect of having a naked arm.
“Are you scared?”
She fiddles with some sand on the floor, building it into little mounds, dispersing it, and then rebuilding. “I don’t want to be Laeh’s. That’s what I pray for every day.”
I reel back. “You hate the clinic that much?”
“No, it’s not the clinic exactly. I just…I just don’t want to be like Mom. She’s so trapped there.”
“I wouldn’t say that. She loves the clinic.”
“Maybe. But, I mean, have you ever seen how some people treat her? Like she’s their slave, expected to dole out potions every day. That because she is a woman, that’s her one and only use. And I think Mom hopes I’m Laeh Touched so that I can take over for her. But I want to be strong, stronger.”
“Pink healing magic is not strictly feminine, and it is not weak. It saves people’s lives. Mom. You. Me. All pink users. We save people’s lives. There isnothingweak about that.”
