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All the same, she drops her voice low and keeps her question vague. “You seem pretty… close with your godlen. Does Ardone reach out to you in different ways, let you know how she feels about what you’re doing or what else she might like you to do?”
I don’t need to ask why Ivy’s curious. She looked confused and a little terrified when she talked about Kosmel’s divine voice speaking to her.
My thoughts dart back to the night of the incident in the tower, after Ivy made her full confession.
That night, I knelt at my small shrine to Ardone in my dorm bedroom and asked my godlen to show me if my heart was being led astray. If I needed to beware the woman who’s unknowingly claimed so much of it.
I answer Ivy in the same subdued tone. “Not the way you’ve experienced it, from what you’ve said. But I’ve felt Ardone’s presence regularly in smaller, subtler ways. Every now and then I have a dream I can tell she’s touched, but mostly it’s simply sensing my attention being drawn to specific objects or images, like a symbolic sort of message.”
Like that night after I made my appeal, my gaze drifted up through the flickering candlelight to see a shadow like a butterfly’s wings fluttering by. Flying free without a care.
My godlen might as well have spoken to me in that moment, saying,Follow the path to your joy unhindered.
Ivy’s brow furrows. “I haven’t noticed any smaller messages. It’s like he comes out of the blue, and then he vanishes.”
I cock my head. “You haven’t exactly been open to accepting his presence—or any other godlen’s—have you? The connection between mortal and divine has always felt like a matter of meeting halfway to me, rather than having someone else’s will imposed on me. They guide rather than command. And you can’t guide someone who’s shutting you out.”
“I guess I can’t argue with that reasoning.” Ivy lets out a huff of breath. “I don’t know if Iwantto let any divinity in.”
“It’s up to you. You could always see if you’re comfortable opening the door just a little. Nothing’s stopping you from slamming it shut again if you’re unhappy with the outcome.”
Ivy snorts. “Assuming I’m in a position to do anything at all once he’s done with me. Listening to him has already gotten me into more trouble than I ever did on my own.”
I have a flash of an image of Ivy slumped on the hangman’s platform, and my stomach lurches. My hand instinctively flicks down my front—tapping my fingers to forehead, heart, and gut, and then a fist to my sternum over my godlen brand—as if I can ward off that horrific potential future.
Ivy’s mouth twists at my gesture. I take another step toward her. “Kosmel protected you with Stavros—with all three of us—when he needed to. I’m sure he will again if it’s necessary. And… in case it wasn’t clear… hewouldn’tneed to with me. Stavros may be having trouble coming to grips with your magic, but I know you’re still our Kindness.”
A look that’s almost haunted comes over Ivy’s face. Before I can panic that I’ve disturbed her somehow, she lets out a laugh—if a bit of a stiff one. “You’ve always been kinder tomethan I probably deserve. Thank you, for now and before. I’d better get back to the Domi before the former general thinks I’ve gone rogue.”
She pats Toast’s head and ducks past me without waiting for me to answer.
I reach over the stall door to stroke Pepper’s neck, grappling with the tangle of emotion inside me.
I gave Ivy a little comfort, a little happiness. As much as I probably could. I should be grateful for that.
Once I’ve given Ivy the distance she appeared to want, I head back to the Domi myself. On the third floor, I find a different woman waiting outside my dorm.
As I approach, taking in her features, her name rises up from my memory: Agata. The second daughter of one of the court Barons, a student in the scholarship division. A couple of months ago, she hired me for a night on the town and a private interlude afterward.
At the time, I suspected she’d become a returning patron. The tangle inside me knots tighter with the knowledge that I’m about to be proven right.
I stop a couple of paces from her and smile. “Hello, Agata. It’s good to see you. How have you been?”
She twists a strand of her sleek auburn hair around her finger. “Pretty well. But I was feeling that there’s a little something missing. When are you free for another evening? We could have a similar outing to last time.”
From the suggestive note that’s crept into her voice, I have no doubt that she intends a similar ending as well.
It’s the work I do. Sex is a celebration of the godlen I dedicated myself to, an act of both worship and joy.
But not a single part of me feels joyful at the idea of carrying out that particularly intimate work right now.
I manage to hold my smile in place. The words slip out before I can totally think them through. “I’m not. Free, that is. I’m sorry. I’m on a short hiatus from taking private patrons.”
At least, as of this moment I am.
“Oh!” Agata giggles. “I suppose you must have schoolwork and so on to keep you busy like the rest of us do. Let me know when you’re in business again, then. I’ll be looking forward to it.”
As she saunters away, a lump of guilt forms in my gut. I’ve never turned down a potential patron before.
