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I couldn’t believe what I was hearing . . . what I was seeing.
I highly doubted the goddess wanted this young girl’s hair—I blamed the Crown, yet another spun tale to control the masses, to control women. I wanted to tell her as much, but what good would that do? I could see the hope in her bloodshot eyes. And hope was better than nothing.
“Did you drink from the fountain?” she asked, curiously looking up at me.
I nodded. “I did. Did you drink from it?”
“Yup, every time I visit. I always drink from it,” she replied with pride.
I didn’t know why, but I felt compelled to ask, “What did it taste like to you?”
She looked at me as if I had just asked a very odd thing. “It tasted like water.”
“Justwater?” I repeated more to myself. “Not thick, decadent honey?” I asked, something odd churning in my gut.
“Honey? Gosh, no. I’ve never heard of such a thing,” she stated with a shake of her head.
That struck me as odd.
“Does it taste different to everyone?” I asked.
“What? No. You can ask anyone here and they’ll tell you it tastes just like water,” she declared with the unwavering certainty of a teenaged girl.
Arkyn appeared beside me, cutting the conversation off. He gave the girl a kind smile before he looked at me. “Are you ready to leave?”
The caw of a raven came like a summoning from above. I looked up as the sleek black bird soared above. The glint of its vivid, black feathers gave off a purple shimmer as they reflected the sun, its beautiful tail feathers spread out like a fan, claws stretched out as it landed on a branch just above us. Neatly, it tucked its wings in and peered down at us, head cocked to the side. Watching. Waiting.
“That’s not a good omen,” the girl stammered as she took a step back.
“No.” Arkyn gritted his teeth. “It certainly is not.” He turned to me, offering his arm. “Come, Sage, it is time for us to leave.”
Pulling my tethered gaze from the raven, I exchanged goodbyes with the girl before I took Arkyn’s arm.
The raven’s caw, unnervingly loud, haunted me all the way back to the carriage.
The carriage groaned as it struck something hard, protesting, rocking from side to side. I pressed my hand against the wall, stabilizing myself. When the ripple effect of the strike faded, I nodded towards the cloth sack tossed carelessly on the seat beside Arkyn. “What’s in the bag?”
Arkyn shifted a bored glance to it. “It’s for the queen.”
The mention of the queen sent an uncomfortable chill down my back—a reminder of how close I was to enemy hands.
“What’s in it?” I inquired further, not expecting him to reply. Why would he divulge such information to me?
“It’s hair,” he said blatantly, his honesty nearly just as shocking as his reply.
“Hair?” I asked, my thoughts slowly drifting back to the girl. An image of her removing her bandana played in my mind.
“Yes, hair,” Arkyn replied dully.
“Was it from that girl?” I crossed my arms, annoyance hitting me as I connected the girl to the sack full of hair destined for the queen.
“The one you spoke with before we left?” He paused, his gaze falling to my arms, noting my defensive posture, no doubt. “Hundreds of girls and women visit the Temple of Light weekly to offer their hair. The chances are slim that it was hers. Besides, it takes a while to process them all.”
The information sat as well with me as Ezra’s cooking. “Where does all the hair go?”
“It goes to the wealthy upper class.” He crossed his legs, his suspended black boot bobbing from the movement of the horse-drawn carriage.
“What do they do with it?”
