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“Are these for Tish and Damla?” I ask, and she nods. “May I make one?”
The Temple Maidens smiles and shows me how to twist, loop, and fold the strands into a simple shape. I make the next one by myself. Holding the offerings in my hands, I gaze into the flames for a while. I’ve never had strong ideas about gods and the afterlife. Sometimes I envied the other Veiled Virgins who were able to take the Brethren’s teachings to heart and were so certain that there was only one God and one correct way to live.
I open my hands and gaze at the fire grass knots. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m not certain about anything, but I hope that Tish and Damla didn’t suffer at the end of their lives. I hope my family isn’t suffering wherever they are, and they somehow know that I’m thinking about them. Wishing for them. Needing them to come home.
It’s with these small but very dear hopes I cast the fire grass into the flames and watch them burst into fiery knots of light.
When I turn away from the fire, I see the Temple Crone standing behind me at a polite distance. Her eyes are on the flames, but I have the impression that she’s been waiting for me.
I approach her and bow my head. “Grandmother.”
The old woman regards me with shrewd eyes and then speaks without preamble. “Ma’lentold me you are having visions. We’ve never had a dragonrider who is also a witch. I checked the records.”
I’ve seen enough charred corpses tied to the stake in Gunster on market day that the wordwitchfeels like an accusation. “Am I going to be jailed and executed for knowing that Tish and Damla were attacked?”
“Witches were outlawed by the Brethren, but they are welcome and protected under a Maledinni king and always have been. They were rare in Old Maledin because, in those times, humans living among us were rare. Witches are born from one Maledinni parent and one human parent. There are many more humans in Maledin now, so I suspect we will see a great deal more witches in the years to come.”
The Temple Crone glances at the Temple Flame where I stood just moments ago.
“You feel regret.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“My vision came too late to help Tish and Damla. I can’t help but wish I never saw it instead of seeing it and being unable to prevent their deaths.”
“Perhaps you saw for a reason other than to save.”
I pick at my sleeve but say nothing. If I’m a witch then I’m far less useful than Biddy Hawthorne, who can find lost sheep and heal the sick. I’d rather not be a witch at all than be tortured with terrible things I can do nothing to prevent.
“Maybe I’m just not strong enough yet. Can you teach me how to use my visions so they’re actually useful?”
The Temple Crone shakes her head. “TheHratha’lenpractice dragon magic, which is nothing like witchcraft. You will need a witch to train you, though that may be difficult considering how many killed by the Brethren.”
“I know a witch and where to find her. She gave me this, actually.” I fish the small glass vial from my skirts and hold it out to the Temple Crone. “I was on the run and she told me it’s useful for hiding, but now I wonder if it might have other purposes.”
The old woman holds the bottle up to the light, and then uncorks it and takes a sniff. “She is a canny witch to know about such things. This will conceal one mate’s scent from the other. It is sometimes used if a couple wishes to delay a heat or a rut.”
“So it is scent that causes these things? I can’t even smell Zabriel’s scent, yet my body is changing.”
“That’s correct. Your mate’s scent is bringing on your first false heat, even though you’re not aware that you’re smelling him.”
I gaze at the bottle in my hand. “If I put this on Zabriel, will that prevent my designation from emerging?”
The Temple Crone gives me a long, searching look, and I have the sense that she’s disappointed by my question. “May I answer a question that you didn’t ask?” I nod, and she says, “It is him you fear, or yourself?”
I think about that. “I haven’t had much say in my own life in some time, and it has been powerful men who’ve made me suffer the most. I suppose it’s both. If I could just have a little more time,” I ask desperately. “Once this happens, I’m afraid there will be no going back.”
The crone’s expression fills with sympathy. “My dear Lady Isavelle. Once the dragons woke beneath the mountains, there was no going back, not for you or any other Maledinni in the country. An oil will not change who you are or your bond with your mate, a bond that is a privilege that so many of our kind hope for.”
I think about Stesha, so cold and cantankerous because he’s been denied a mate he feels he deserves, but I can’t be thankful for what I have merely because others want it.
Temple Crone’s expression softens and suddenly she doesn’t look as imperious as the High Priest, or as severe as Biddy Hawthorne. In her eyes, I see a flash of my own mother, and I miss her so much that it makes my heart ache.
“I know you are brave, Lady Isavelle. The moment you knew Tish and Damla were in trouble, you wished to fly and save them with no concern for your own safety. It’s natural to feel afraid of change, especially when it is out of our hands. Your mate will support you in the coming weeks and months. The temple will welcome you day and night. You are not alone in this, Lady Isavelle. No one in Maledin is, and when the other Omegas emerge in the days and weeks to come, they will look to you to inspire their own bravery.”
The old woman places the bottle back into my hands and closes my fingers around them. “Use this as you see fit. These oils are tools, and they can help you in the short term, but they will not change who or what you are. The dragons have returned to Maledin, and all with Maledinni blood are connected with them, and our blood sings with theirs.”
I slip the glass bottles back into my pocket and thank the Temple Crone for her time.
I had hoped to put these changes off, maybe forever, but apparently, there’s nothing I can do about what’s happening to me without sealing every dragon beneath the Bodan Mountains once more, and this time forever.
