Six Burning Candles (Followers of the Old Gods #1)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One:

~Melrose~

It’s hard being a flirty girl in a castle full of stick in the muds.

There I was, first day of Wintersdark, in a gown, sparkling like a candle over an obsidian pool, and not a single eye ogled me.

No one complimented me on the neckline or how nicely it made my tits look.

Nary a side glance or blushing lady-in-waiting who was wondering if she wanted me or to be me.

Both, the answer is always both. I even shined my hooves.

The citizens of Moonreach did not appreciate me.

I walked the whole castle that morning and not a single person stopped in their tracks... Nada-zip-zilch-nothing!

Well…except for Keida.

“No one appreciates me,” I sighed dramatically, dropping onto the pew next to the icicle-covered fae.

Her wings folded back behind her and turned into snow that drifted to the stone floor behind us.

One of my favorite things about Keida was that, despite her stoney, all-work-and-no-play exterior, her magic was dramatic and pretty.

A Frost Fae, meaning she was born in a circle of fae deep in the mountains north of Moonreach.

From her pale blond hair tucked behind her sharp as dagger ears, to icicle eyelashes, to the light blueish hue of her lips as she pursed them with frustration, Keida was gorgeous.

If only she didn’t dress in clerical rags.

Keida glanced up from her last-minute enchantment work and I saw her freeze.

Finally! Forgive my pun. The only person whose eyes roamed from my face, down the long silky layers of my gown, to my hooves, she roamed languidly across my body.

Then those cold, blue eyes snapped back up to my face. “In what way?”

“I spent weeks designing, sewing, and hand stitching all the beads on my Wintersdark gown and not a single person has complimented it. Or my hair.” I tossed said tresses off my shoulders, back behind me.

“You seek external validation for your beauty?” Keida blinked at me once, disinterested completely in my vanity. Listen, I know who and what I am, and Papa says it’s only a problem if it causes me to act poorly in the eyes of Our Lady Avaris.

“You think I’m beautiful?” I gasped, giving Keida a flirty, one shoulder shrug.

“I did not say that,” she sighed, shaking her head.

I harumphed, “You’re no fun.”

“I am not here for fun,” her face twisted up as she returned to carving the runes into the ceremonial candle.

The Lunar Cleric, or right hand to the Hierophant, of the church was entrusted to carve the Wintersdark Ritual candles every year.

Her Lunarence, similar to how a Cardinal is called Eminence, was integral to the rites.

It signified the first days into winter or the celebration of the solstice.

As Our Lady Avaris, the All-Mother, signified the moon, the water, and slumber.

Her wife, Our Lady Eluvia, the Forger, symbolizing the sun, the earth, and rebirth, was said to be put into a great slumber during the winter.

Avaris tended to us in the winter, keeping the earth, or the body of her greatest love, safe and concealed from danger under blankets of snow and frost. Then, in the spring, Eluvia awakens and Avaris will pull back her blanket of protection.

All those stories, all the rites, all the rituals, all the hymns, I had them tattooed on my soul.

I was born in the cathedral. My father, Leonardo St. Augustine, stood as the Hierophant of our order.

A church based on healing, built around magic bestowed upon us by the goddesses, Papa was made top of the clerical order when I was only eight.

Thus, I eat, breathe, and drink this stuff.

He tended to the cathedral in the castle and was a magical consultant to the widow queen Erinnessa.

Normally, that would make one assume Leonardo was some tight lipped, upturned nosed, terribly unpersonable man in a crisp, linen robe.

Which couldn’t be more from the truth.

“Melrose!” He cheered from the bench of the organ he stopped playing long enough to look down at his audience. As it wasn’t time for prayers, and most people were preparing for the festivities, nary a soul lingered in our holy halls. Minus Keida and I, that was.

Leonardo St. Augustine turned, knocked his leg on the organ bench, and promptly fell onto his face…

on the floor…in the church that he presided over.

I snorted, climbing to my hooves. Satyrs and their two left hooves, what can you do?

Mine clicked against the hard, stone floors as I sauntered up to the instrument.

The cathedral was an imposing hall if one was not raised in its rafters.

Vaulted ceilings, sharp architecture, floating candles, and cold, unfeeling art that loomed, it was ethereal and creepy at the same glance.

However, I knew it like the back of my hand.

I knew its bones and where all the cracks were.

Like the one on the floor by the altar that was made when a knight was sworn into the Paladin Order of our church and embedded the tip of his broadsword into the stone.

Or the one in the third pew to the right, where a woman was trying to innocently swat a gnat and ended up cracking her ring on the poor wooden seat.

I’d not noticed, however, the slightly upturned stone by the organ. I’ll have to get a stone mason out here to shave it down! In this weather? They’ll complain for sure!

“Melrose, what are you doing back so soon? I thought surely you’d be out with the other ladies…

plotting?” He squinted at me. He always does this.

I smirked back at him and the goofy look plastered to his face.

His face was long and skinny with high cheekbones and a scraggly beard.

Two ram’s horns protruded directly out of his forehead and curled stylishly around his mop of brown curls.

He was lanky for a man who eats four meals a day plus whatever snacks I find stashed away in his pockets like a chipmunk.

Breakfast, brunch, lunch, and dinner are important meals, Melrose, but they’re not enough to fill this endless gut.

So, I must snack. The laundress will forgive me for all the crumbs.

But that was just who Leonardo St. Augustine was—skinny as a rail and ridiculous.

It's what I love about him most. I smiled as I hoisted him up by the armpit back onto the bench. Teasing him with an arched brow, I asked, “Plotting?”

“Don’t act like I’m an old goat, Melrose. I know you modern ladies are plotting and scheming,” he snickered, wiggling his brows at me.

“And what are modern ladies plotting to do?” I retorted.

“What any young lady wants…” he trailed off.

“To take over the world.” We answered in unison before bending backwards and cackling in unharmonious union.

Papa’s laugh is my favorite thing in the world.

Full of snorts and gasps for air, and when he’s really tickled pink, he would stomp a hoof to the ground in quick succession.

Precisely what he did, bent over the bench with one hand slapped to his knee.

“Hierophant Leonardo, the candles are prepped,” Kieda interjected herself into our hysteria, killing it immediately. I jerked up right, hands to my mouth to stifle my giggles. She gave me a singular, unimpressed glance, then handed over the candle to Leonardo.

“Perfect as always, Kieda—Ah! And where are my manners, Melrose. Look at you. Go on, give us a spin.”

I dropped my hands with an excited squeal.

Rushing a step or two away from them, I gave papa a slow twirl.

When I faced front, I caught a twinkle in Keida’s eye, but it was snuffed out shortly after our gazes met.

Whatever lurked behind her cold eyes was lost to me as she dropped a brick wall between us without mercy.

She does this…has always done this for as long as I’ve known her.

That didn’t stop her from uttering the word, with a breathy tone, “Beautiful.”

“I agree! Melrose, you’ve outdone yourself. Who knows, maybe you’ll design a wedding gown for the princess one day!” Leonardo clapped rapidly, gushing with pride as he stood once more. This time without toppling over his hooves.

“You think so?” I marveled, trotting up into his arms. He squeezed me tight, giving me six kisses on top of my head.

Six kisses for the six gods. Avaris for good rest, Eluvia for good health, Bo for a good harvest, Vien for strength, Lucien for wisdom, and Davros for peace of mind.

It’s supposed to bring about good luck and prosperity.

But it’s always just been how Leonardo shows his affection.

Six hard shakes of a hand, six left to right sways in a hug, or six kisses on top of my head, that’s how he ensured all those who are touched by him are blessed. The small things, I guess.

“I know so, you are a master craftsman, Melrose! Now, don’t be cooped up in here with me all day. There’s no one to party with in here but the dust mites and spiders. You too, Keida.”

“Pardon, sir?” Keida blinked rapidly, jerking to stare at him.

“You heard me,” he grinned from ear to ear. He grabbed her by the shoulder and squeezed six times. “You’re relieved of duty until the rites tonight. Now, shoo.”

“Sir, there’s still—”

“We do this ritual every year, Keida. And every year, you continue to prepare weeks in advance. We couldn’t be more ready if we tried.” Papa clapped a hand against her back, just between her wings, and shuffled her forward. “Melrose, go on, drag her out of here if you must.”

“Sir, please—” Keida’s desperate cries fell on ignorant ears as Leonardo dropped back down onto the organ bench. I grabbed her by the bicep, eager to torment her once again.

Twice a year, during the solstices, Keida prepared for the rites of our church.

Engraved all the candles, set up all the altars, prepped all the sacrifices, and strung all the garland.

Each pew was decorated with soft white carnations, a dainty drape of white petals like the snow outside.

Each of the washing stands were full of crisp water, for crying out loud; she’d done more than any cleric.

And so twice a year, at papa’s request, I dragged Keida out to ‘have fun’.

“Now, you’re here for fun,” I snickered as I pulled her out the massive wooden doorway. Aday of torture specifically meant to kill a fun-hater like Keida.

“I am doing this under extreme duress,” she grumbled.

“You say that every year,” I retorted, slipping an arm through hers.

“And every year I continue to be under extreme duress!” She rolled her eyes.

“Awww, come on, you know you love the solstice!” I stuck my tongue out at her, hugging her arm tighter to my chest. And for a moment, I thought I saw something behind those icy eyes.

Maybe I just wanted them to look at me with anything other than ire, disdain, disinterest…

maybe I liked when I sometimes got a curled lip or a chuckle out of her.

Stolen moments I treasured and stashed away.

Papa might be a chipmunk for snacks, keeping them stored away for when he might need them.

But I was a squirrel hoarding away flashes of smiles or cracks in Keida’s impervious armor.

Hoping one solstice she might light six candles with me instead of for the church.

Keida stared at me for a long moment. The pair of us frozen outside the cathedral, stuck in an hourglass where the sand stopped falling.

Her gaze studied my face and for the umpteenth time, I prayed she found it pleasing.

Okay, maybe I’ve been in love with the hierophant’s right hand cleric since the day we met.

Six years is a long time for a girl like me to have a crush, and yet here I was…

head over heels for a woman who wanted nothing to do with me.

Then she breathed, “You’re trouble, Melrose St. Augustine.”

“Maybe,” I winked up at her, catching the slight crinkle outside her eyes as she softened…even just an inch. I beamed, toothy and proud, I win. “But for the rest of today, I’m your trouble.”

“Avaris preserve me.”