AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I waited a second more, trying to see some change under the surface before I leaned back and lifted my hands. Cold water streamed down into my armpits, making me suck in a breath, but I would have anyway as soon as I saw my marks. Even the acolytes behind me murmured in awe.
"Let me read them, Nariana," Saval begged.
Because the lace that had previously covered only my palms and fingers now stretched all the way up to the lower third of my bicep. Just like formal gloves worn by the richest ladies, they were a matched set. Intricate swirls chased each other around every surface, interspersed by thicker lines and some blatant shapes.
"You have a band on both of your third fingers," Saval pointed out. "That usually signifies marriage, but the rest of your markings discredit that."
"I thought we didn't marry?" I asked.
"We don't, but priests and priestesses have resigned to do so in the past. It's granted when your lace shows it. Now here..." She gestured to the length of my left forearm. "These lines are usually seen in those who follow the Path of Protection. Conversely, the swirls around it are typical for the Path of the Body, and your other arm signifies the Path of the Word. Have you decided which you plan to follow yet?"
"I still can't choose," I admitted.
She nodded. "Well, it appears that Zeal hasn't made up his mind about you either. I see Action around your elbows and upper arms, too."
"So how will I know?" I asked.
"You will work toward the one that calls to you, child," Saval explained.
But that wasn't quite what I was asking. "I mean on my Choosing Day. If my marks look like this, then how will I know which one I'm really meant for?"
"Oh, those marks aren't just on your hands. Your Path is shown by where the lace appears on your body. A collar..." She pulled aside her robe to expose a handspan of the swirls below the hollow of her throat. "That is for the Path of the Word. The hips and belly are for the Path of the Body. Legs for Action, back for Protection, and if your only marks are on your hands and arms, then that's the Path of Obligation. The Choosing cannot be confused."
"At least there's that," I muttered.
"Nariana," Saval hissed. "Do not make light of this. Most marks grow a little before your Choosing. Never in all my life have I seen Zeal change them this much. I believe it's his way of showing that he believes in you. Maybe even that he has plans for you."
I decided not to mention how I'd felt pulled into the pool. "Really?"
She nodded. "This is his only way of communicating with his students. It does not mean you are better than the others, but this? It certainly meanssomething."
Chapter 10
Nariana
With eighty-three students in my year, it took awhile for everyone to dip their arms into the tears of our god. Most grew, although none as impressively as mine. One shrank, but none of us were actually surprised about that. The boy had little interest in his classes, the temple, or even his god. Twice now, he'd been caught sneaking out of the temple to purchase illicit substances, and his rooms were checked weekly.
But seeing the changes made everything make a little more sense. Anver's were only one example. Ciella was another. Everyone knew she intended to be a Priestess of the Body. Her marks made it clear she was on the right path, although they hadn't grown much. Instead, the lines had changed to a loose pattern that was gorgeous.
Some of the students I didn't know well. Most, if I was honest. The way our courses were set up, we didn't spend much time together as a group. About a third of my year had never shared a single class with me. Others, like Anver, were in almost all of them. Amerlee said it had to do with our strengths and weaknesses. Those of us who excelled in a subject were pushed harder, while those who were weak were given extra time to figure out the basics. The students were basically divided by our educational needs.
Considering that our ages spanned over three years, it wasn't that shocking. When we'd started, there had been a few older kids, but they'd been bumped up to the class ahead of us to minimize the age difference. Saval said that was necessary as we grew older, because the things a fourteen-year-old boy understood were very different from a ten-year-old girl. So, when the girl was fourteen, the boy would be turning into a man, and that was a dangerous combination.
Throughout our sixth year of education, it began to make even more sense. Our subjects shifted from simply "writing" to "penmanship." History was replaced with geography, and reading was left behind for a course called consent. The main focus in that class was how someone could give permission, and our instructor made it clear that none of us were old enough to make that decision.
The rules about contact began to tighten. We weren't prohibited from touching, kissing, or spending time together, but strict rules were put in place. The first was no penetration. The second was to stop when consent was revoked. It was one we practiced often, learning how many ways a recipient could make it clear they were no longer interested.
Because it seemed there were two roles in physical contact. There was the initiator and the recipient. It didn't matter if that was between two boys, two girls, a boy and a girl, or any other combination we could think of. Someone always initiated the touch, and someone else received it. That could be as obvious as with a kiss, or as subtle as purchasing a meal.
And while we'd all hoped that the class would be about sex, it really wasn't. It was mostly about personal space. Sexual contact wasn't ignored, but it wasn't always dwelled upon. The general idea was more about comfort levels while interacting with others - including standing before a crowd to talk to them. Clearly, I wasn't the only person who thought preaching the word sounded more terrifying than exciting.
Unfortunately, sixth year also meant fewer classes with Amerlee. I went from spending an hour or two with her every afternoon to only seeing her two days a week. She promised that she and Jamik were still available to talk to me any time I needed it, but that she had other duties as a priestess. A few months into that year, she began to join Shalsa on those overnight assignments.
By the time our seventh year started, I was used to it. Or so I thought. Stuck on a problem in my manners class, I grabbed my notes and headed over to the disciple's side of the temple. I still wasn't old enough to make a direct path, but I used the same meandering one Jamik had shown me a few years before, watching for the subtle designs on the archways to make sure I didn't get lost. After all, the Temple of Temptation was a massive place.
I knew something was wrong before I got there. Shalsa was standing in the hall with her head buried against Irila's shoulder. The guardian was trying to soothe her ward, but it didn't seem to be working. As I got closer, I slowed, but Irila still noticed me.
"It may not be a good time," she warned.
