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Amerlee's jaw clenched hard enough to make her scowl. "Did he now."

"Well, I made it clear that wouldn't happen, and he basically said it was a shame because he would've graded me easier if I had. He didn't say it, but I got the impression he will now grade me harder." I pushed my hair away from my face in frustration. "Amerlee, I can't fail this class."

"That's not going to happen," she assured me. "But keep going."

"Well, after I told him that I'm not allowed to be inspected without my mentor - which I made up on the spot, but I didn't think you'd mind - because I'm not yet eighteen, he started backtracking. That was when he said it was clear that Bode had changed his mind, and things like that."

"Lavil?" she asked.

"Lavin," Wraythe corrected.

"Do you happen to know which Path?"

I nodded. "He says he's a Priest of the Mind. It's the same as our Priest of the Body, if I understand right?"

"You do," she assured me, reaching back for her robe. It had been shrugged off onto the back of her chair. "I have something I need to do. You three go study together or something. Make out. I don't really care." She pulled on her robes, buttoning the front as she walked, but when she reached the door, she paused. "Oh, and Eladehl? Thank you for bringing this to me."

He jerked his thumb over at Wraythe. "It was actually his idea - I just tend to talk more."

"Thank you both," she told them, then let her hand fall away from the doorknob. "You need to understand that if Nari had been caught alone with him, she likely would've been blamed for it. As an acolyte of Temptation, most assume we're the ones to initiate. Depending on how far he pushed, she could've been sent to Obligation, or worse, stripped of her marks."

"Doesn't Zeal have to do that?" I asked.

Amerlee licked at her lips. "Because the gods can't always talk to us directly, there are other ways. The High Priest can strip your marks and cast you out. It's only reserved for the most heinous crimes, but you're a child. This would count."

She meant if I'd slept with him. She didn't have to say it, I completely understood. "What would happen to him?"

"Without proof, it's usually the Priestess - or Priest - of Temptation that is blamed. He would've been seen as the victim."

"Which means he'd get nothing," Wraythe realized.

Amerlee nodded. "But since you told me, I can do something about this. I just pray that you two boys will testify to this if asked?"

"Always," Eladehl swore.

"That's what I thought. Now go play." She wrenched open the door and strode out, not even waiting for us to stand.

Later that evening, we saw Saval and Amerlee heading out. Jamik loomed behind them, along with another man who was clearly a guardian. Ten minutes later, another group made their way through the front entrance. Seven people in total, and each of them wore the black robes that identified them as Zeal's priests.

That evening, just before bed, Jamik stopped by my room to assure me the problem had been dealt with. I didn't really understand what he meant, but I trusted him and Amerlee enough to simply accept it. The next day, however, I figured it out.

A woman walked into our Intuition classroom instead of Lavin. She wore the yellow robe of that god and started out by telling us that our previous teacher had been reassigned, but since it was early in the class, she assumed we wouldn't have a problem. All of it was handled quietly, and no one else suspected a thing, but I knew better.

The next time I had a lesson with Amerlee, I asked what had happened to the man. Without breaking stride, she told me he would spend a year relearning his obligations, but that he would never again be allowed around students of any god. A part of me wanted to ask about his marks, curious if they'd changed as well, but I honestly didn't care that much. I was simply glad it had been handled.

Although, I learned something from that. Lavin's threat had been so subtle, and yet so dangerous. He'd tossed out his god as an excuse, and I was sure he'd cited mine as his reason. Zeal had tempted him to cross the line, he'd say. And yet, his actions were all his. I knew. I'd felt a god use my body, and there had been nothing subtle about it.

Unfortunately, since the gods didn't talk to us directly, they made very convenient scapegoats. It was a hard thing to deny one's influence, since the signs of their existence were all around us. From the books that wrote our laws while locked in a glass case to the marks on my very hands, I knew they were real. Not everyone did.

Even more important than that were my friends. Eladehl, Wraythe, and Amerlee had believed me. They'd stepped up to help when I needed it most, requiring nothing in exchange, and that felt good. For so many years, I'd lived my life believing that I'd been given up because I wasn't wanted, but that wasn't how they'd treated me.

Papa had walked away when he saw my hands because he didn't want me to see him cry. He blamed himself for putting me in a temple that so many couldn't understand. Yes, I would share my body with others. It was entirely possible that I would suffer pain because of it. I knew all of that, but I'd also been raised to understand that pain was fleeting and that love required more than simply connecting bodies. My father hadn't.

He left because he blamed himself. He hadn't grown a good enough crop to support us. He'd given me up only to have me end up in a "bad" place. He'd walked away before he said any of that to my face, giving me the chance to make my own opinions, and I had to appreciate that. Still, it was hard.

I also learned that friendships were fleeting. Anver may have helped me walk away from that priest, but I hadn't talked to my old friend since. He and Tishlie sat together at meals, finding seats on the far side of the dining room from where we'd always sat. Now, when he bothered to look at me, it was always with sadness in his eyes and Tishlie on his arm.

I had no idea what he saw in her. To me, she seemed shallow and a little stupid. I tried to give her a chance, but she always lashed out at me before I could even talk. As our ninth year slowly crept past, Anver continued to slip away, and nothing I tried was stopping it.

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