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Four men and one woman stood with the senior priestesses. The men all had long hair, tied back off their faces, and swords strapped to their backs. All four were muscular, without being huge, with bodies that looked graceful and powerful.
It was the woman with them who drew my eye.
She was taller than most of the priests. Her petite face was framed with straight, dark blonde hair. Her eyes were shaped like those of a cat, with a predatory look in them. Or was it curiosity?
She was dressed completely in black, a stark contrast to the white of the maidens, or the brown of the priestesses. She tilted her slender, angular chin to sweep her gaze across the room. Her glance settled on me for a moment. She nodded, then turned away.
Her hair covered her ears, but I knew if they didn't, I'd see the tips come to a point.
Fae.
They rarely came here, but they always made me tremble. I vaguely remembered stories my mother used to tell me, before I was chosen for the Temple. They were always along the lines of, ‘if you don't behave, the Fae will get you.’
"Are they ready?" The Fae woman’s voice was like music, soothing, melodic. A voice to draw in the unwary, to take them to their doom. Fae, according to everyone who dared talk about them, couldn’t be trusted. They were only here now, out of necessity.
"They are." Geralda seemed even less pleased to see the Fae than she did to see the rest of us. Was there anyone or anything she did have a high opinion of? Outside the gods, I suspected not.
"Then have them step forward." The Fae woman looked irritated, bordering on bored. Evidently human ceremonies weren't exciting enough for her. Maybe she didn't want to be here, amongst us. Fae rarely bothered, and when they did it was only for occasions like this.
I glanced at Tyla. She wore Geralda's default expression on her face when she looked at the Fae, but in addition to disgust, hers was laced with fear. Fear, I suspected, that ran deeper than her wariness for the Fae.
Geralda glowered like we should have leapt forward immediately, even though she hadn't yet told us to. We practised this ceremony a dozen times. She strenuously and repeatedly impressed upon us that none of us were to move until she gave us the order.
She would never be pleased, no matter what we did.
As we'd rehearsed, Hycanthe rose and moved forward first. Slowly, reluctantly. Her eyes conveyed her nerves, but then she stepped in front of me and all I saw was the back of her head.
I dug my nails into my palms to resist the urge to flinch when the Fae woman stepped around to stand behind her. She was an arm span away from me. Close enough that I could smell her scent. Citrus and honey. Sweet, but slightly cloying at the same time.
I was expecting something malevolent like ash or death.
She turned her face and gave me the barest hint of a glance. Indulgent like a parent. Like someone with the long lifespan of the Fae, looking at someone who was little more than a child in her eyes.
I swallowed and forced myself not to lean away from her.
She looked amused before turning away and placing a hand on the back of Hycanthe's choker. I squinted, but couldn’t see her do anything. When she lowered her hand, the choker fell away from Hycanthe's throat.
I squinted harder. What the hells?
Hycanthe caught it in trembling fingers and handed it to one of the priestesses.
Geralda gave Hycanthe a nod. "What is your name, child?"
The Fae woman moved away in time for me to see Hycanthe glance around uncertainly.
She cleared her throat. "Hy… Hycanthe." She seemed surprised at the sound of her own voice.
Geralda nodded again. "You may step aside."
Hycanthe did, her face pale, eyes blinking rapidly. She smelled of anxiety and peonies. One scent sweet, the other contagious.
At a nod from Nidua, I rose and hurried to step into Hycathe’s place.
I inhaled the scent of the Fae woman again. Most of the people I knew smelled of everyday things, like strawberries and grass. Zared smelt of leather and sandalwood. Tyla a combination of lavender and rose.
No one else ever smelled like honey. Maybe it was a trap like night flowers. They smelled like perfume, but snapped closed around your fingers if you touched them. Their pollen burned like the hells. Zared dared me to touch one once. I shouldn't have, but the combination of the dare and my own curiosity made me do it anyway. Not even his pretty hazel eyes stopped him from getting into trouble with one of the other priests that day. He'd spent the next month mucking out stables. I spent it wincing every time I sat down. Evidently suffering with a painful finger wasn’t punishment enough.
I didn't realise the Fae woman was behind me until her fingers brushed the back of my neck. Her touch felt like a silkfly, its long, furred feet reaching out, deciding where to burrow.
