2. Petals in a Storm
2
Petals in a Storm
Calliste
Finally.
Almost four hours later, the short train of her white robe swept the snowy rose petals dotting the marble floor as Calliste walked down the main aisle of the Grand Temple, her heart ablaze with joy and making her feel like a true bride.
Not the bride she once had been, wide-eyed and trembling with fear.
A bride of her Sisterhood, coming into her own right.
And power.
The power she’d claim in twenty slow steps and seal with an everlasting vow.
Wisps of her brown hair fluttered on the currents of the rose-scented air, feathering her face. How they escaped both the thread that held it swept up and the silver pin Leontia secured it with just half an hour earlier, Calliste didn’t know.
Not that it mattered.
Perfection was for the gods.
This hour was already as perfect as it could be.
The golden chariot of Helios was positioned to pass through the highest point in the early summer sky, tipping it toward the clear, azure noon. Dazzling crystal light pierced the air through round skylights beneath the temple’s marble roof.
For three heartbeats, Calliste fixed her gaze on the far-end skylight, blazing with blinding light that illuminated her path as well as the massive marble columns soaring to the high ceiling.
It also engulfed the altar and framed the towering statue of Epione, cut from the finest marble. The immortal patroness’s serene face glowed in the light of the golden tapers and thin tendrils of purifying smoke from the smoldering bundle of sage burning at her feet.
The goddess awaited, along with the woman Calliste wouldn’t hesitate to call mother.
Calliste counted each step.
Gilded smoke and silvered, ethereal melody washed over the sunlit air, giving her stroll a dreamlike, misty quality.
Sworn priestesses, sisters and apprentices lined the main aisle, singing a hymn. The golden candles and sticks of incense in their hands released their wispy, fragrant essence. Between them stood scribes, herbalists, and cooks—the women who kept everything running smoothly.
Finally. Calliste wondered if her feet touched the ground. She felt more like a feather drifting through the air, leaving behind everything that had led up to this moment.
Her dark past.
Endless trials.
Weeping over failures during sleepless nights.
Wrestling with doubt.
Trying: again and again.
Nine years of harnessing and honing her healing gift, from discovering an ember of power to making it blaze. Now, she could seamlessly tune in to the divine powers to heal—a proof that it is possible.
At noon exactly, Calliste reached the altar’s three steps, knelt on the middle one in front of Leontia, bowed her head and waited until the hymn faded away.
“Dearest sisters.” Leontia’s melodious voice carried in sunlit silence. “Seeing one of us taking eternal vows is always such a joyful moment. Calliste has been dedicated and adamant enough to celebrate her achievement today. An achievement that I hope will inspire you.”
Adamant. Calliste’s mouth twitched. Nice word for ox-stubborn, Leontia.
“Her exceptional talent marked her as the favorite of divine Epione. Once I depart to the Underworld, Calliste will step into my place and lead the Sisterhood through the grace of our goddess.”
Please stay as long as you can.
Leontia reached for the pendant from the silver tray beside her and held it up. “Calliste?”
She looked up at a flawless emerald of a blazing green hue, cut into the perfect shape of a teardrop and set in a delicate frame of silver tendrils. “Oh.” She swallowed. “Oh, it’s… divine.”
“You’ve earned it, Calliste,” Leontia said, smiling as she lowered it over Calliste’s head. “Well done. Ready to say your vow?”
Calliste cupped the pendant in her hands and lifted it up, feeling its weight and the power slumbering in the stone. The power that was already hers and needed one more sacrifice: a vow. She met Leontia’s eyes. “I was ready nine years ago.”
Leontia grinned. “Except you couldn’t heal for love or gold.”
“I’m still as ready,” Calliste breathed, tears coming to her eyes. “Ready to bind my power to our temple.”
The High Priestess stroked her cheek. A soothing touch of a wise healer, but also the final check. Then she nodded. “Repeat after me. I, Calliste…”
“I—”
A grinding sound growled across the temple’s tiled floor. Someone outside pushed on the heavy wooden double door, not knowing they had to be opened slowly, else they would—
Scre-e-e-e-e-ch!
Leontia straightened.
Calliste looked over her shoulder just in time to see the door flying open, each wing crashing against the wall and sending a deafening thunderclap that echoed down the aisle and made the whole temple shiver.
Bang!
The one who forced them open, now framed by the brilliant blue of the midday sky, was a towering man. Still for two heartbeats, he broke into a hard step, marching down Calliste’s trail from moments earlier.
Calliste blinked, barely crediting what she was seeing through the dull whooshing of her blood in her ear. A man? In the Grand Temple? Invading the sacred place made him either an ignorant fool, or a foreign barbarian, and she wasn’t certain what was worse.
He headed for the altar.
I’m unarmed , she realized, probably like most of her sisters. No one was supposed to enter the temple bearing weapons.
The hurried breaths of her sisters disturbed and put out the flames of the candles they held.
She shot Leontia a startled look.
The High Priestess stiffened as she squinted at the approaching man. Then she blinked around and straightened. “Peace, sisters.” Her clear voice carried over the confused gathering like a cool breeze. “He means no harm. I know who he is.”
The man surged forth, the sun’s glare bouncing off his black-and-gold breastplate. His cloak billowed out behind him and swirled like a purple wildfire. He arrived at the altar in a matter of breaths, stopping at a short distance from Leontia and piercing her with a stare. Power enveloped him like heat.
He was almost like the sun itself.
Still kneeling at the middle step of the altar, Calliste watched him towering over her through the fog of disbelief. This breastplate… I’ve seen it before?
His steel breastplate was adorned with gold inlays of roaring lions facing each other, surrounded by a laurel wreath. His black tunic fell halfway to his muscular thighs. He wore black leather greaves with a lattice of straps and sturdy leather striders on his feet. Though his wide belt with a golden buckle shaped like a gryphon had a scabbard attached, it carried no sword.
Calliste’s fashion knowledge might have become outdated during the time she’d spent on Mount Hellecon, but it was clear that this man was not a barbarian but a nobleman. And not an ignorant fool, either, if she went by the intelligence gleaming in his narrowed, smoky-brown eyes. Highborn.
And furious.
“Majesty.” Leontia’s prickly voice broke the silence. “What brings you here?”
Calliste’s jaw slacked. Cannot be. The only person to be addressed so would be the king. But this door-crashing, irreverent madman couldn’t be the ruler of Hesperis.
Can he?
“You know what brings me here, Leontia,” he answered, his deep voice sending jagged shivers down Calliste’s spine. That’s the voice from my dream… but this is impossible? No, the shock must have come from hearing him addressing the Head Priestess by her first name in public. Unthinkable. “You know all too well, so quit pretending that you don’t.”
“My lord, you’ve interrupted a very important—”
“Three missives, I’ve sent you,” he cut in. “Three, in the last six weeks. You only bothered to reply to one, and it wasn’t the answer I expected. Which forced me to come down in person. So pardon me,” his lips twisted in a bitter smile, “for my inconvenient interruption, but you’ve left me no choice.”
“No man is allowed here, my lord,” Leontia said slowly. “Perhaps if you’d like to—”
“I’m here on my own and I’ve left my weapons outside.” He didn’t let her finish again. “This much I could do to honor your temple. In any case, I won’t be long. Gather what you need, Leontia. We’re leaving for Anthemos. Now. ”
A collective gasp tore from all the sisters crowding the temple.
Calliste blinked again, staring at the madman. Storming in here and ordering the head of the Sisterhood to leave with him to the capital? That unhinged man couldn’t be King Theron, though her knowledge was much outdated after spending so long in the temple cut off from the outside world.
The pregnant pause lengthened and swelled with tension until Leontia exhaled a long sigh. “Sisters, please leave. Back to your duties.”
What? Calliste froze. No. My vow. I must take it. She wanted to protest, but couldn’t choke out a word and only stared as her sisters blew out the candles, stubbed out the incense and left the temple in a hush, vanishing like smoke. Her head reeled. She couldn’t even master enough strength to rise to her feet, but it didn’t seem like Leontia expected her to leave, too.
Once there was no one in the temple but the three of them, Leontia frowned at the king.
He frowned back. “You’d better hurry, Leontia.”
“I’m afraid I mustn’t leave this mountain, Majesty,” she replied.
Of course she cannot. Calliste swallowed, willing herself to move and still stuck in the middle of two powers grinding against each other. She’s taken the vow binding herself to the wellspring of Epione’s power. Doesn’t he know that?
His jaw clenched. “You’d better come right away and provide the help I had asked for nicely, not to say I begged for, or I’m outlawing your Sisterhood.”
“This would be unwise,” Leontia parried straight away.
“And yet, I can have your order disbanded in a matter of days.”
With terror hitting her like a blast of ice, Calliste rose to her feet almost as if in a dream, now standing firmly between Leontia and the king.
She pivoted and faced him.
Even though she was on the middle step, she still had to look up at his towering frame, but that didn’t stop the words leaving her mouth: cold, measured, calm, built from blocks of ice. She meant them. She couldn’t stop them. “You will do no such thing.”
Only then his eyes flickered to her face; perhaps it was only then that he’d noticed she was there. His brows gathered as he threw her a surprised, incisive look.
She withstood his glare, taking in all the details of him in a breath: a well-proportioned face with sensual lips, smoky-brown eyes, chiseled nose and a short-trimmed beard. His dark hair curled at his jaw, some swept back, some clinging to his neck. But there was more to him, his sudden, intense burst of attention harder to handle than she’d like to admit.
“And who are you to stop me?” he finally asked in a voice that promised fire and destruction.
“Someone who will fight you to the last breath if necessary,” she replied, her anger sparkling over her heart like a lace of frost. “I’m the High Priestess of this Sisterhood and won’t allow you to disrespect it with your threats.”
“Little do you know me, High Priestess. You’d better leave,” he said, his gaze flickering over her shoulder. “Leontia? Get ready.”
Calliste blinked in shock at being dismissed, then caught the drift of air as Leontia stepped down to stand beside her.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
A dangerous glint flashed in the king’s eyes. “Are you certain of it?”
“As certain as I am that you won’t disband this order.”
“Wrong on both accounts. If you don’t help me…” Anguish briefly pressed into the lines of his face, quickly replaced by a stony expression. “Trust me, I will.”
“You’ll offend the gods.”
The king didn’t reply, staring at her with deadly determination.
Leontia blanched. “Yes, I’ve received your missives. I understand your situation, but I am forbidden to leave my temple. I cannot make an exception, even for…” She swallowed. “For such an exceptional case. And I didn’t understand your summons in the first place. Is Panakeios not keeping the situation under control?”
Panakeios? Calliste jolted at the name of the Head Physician of the School of Asklepios, and the equivalent of Leontia at the royal court.
“If I had any confidence left in Panakeios, I wouldn’t be here,” the king said in a steely undertone.
Leontia shook her head. “I cannot help you. We heal only those who come to us. Why didn’t you arrange for transport, like I suggested—”
“Because the journey is out of the question, that’s why,” he snapped. “I’ve said it clearly enough in my correspondence. I’m told that your Sisterhood is known for performing an occasional miracle, and a miracle is what I need right now.”
Calliste had never seen so much panic in Leontia’s face. “We do not, and cannot, promise miracles.”
The brief silence that filled the space after her statement crackled with tension. “Are you refusing me?” the king asked, his voice dangerously low. Even though he carried no weapons at his belt, he managed to suffuse the air around him with enough threat for Calliste’s hackles to rise.
Leontia let out a heavy breath. “Not out of disobedience. There are other things at play, my lord.”
“At play,” he repeated, his voice sharpened to a fine, sarcastic point. “This is no play, Head Priestess. How can you be so cold-hearted?” Now it dropped to hoarse and cold. “What use are you as a healer if you’re not prepared to travel to heal those who need it most?”
Calliste already struggled, sensing every raw nuance of his presence: the air of relentless power and unbending determination, so intense that she faltered. He’s serious. If he doesn’t get what he wants, we will suffer from his wrath. But why? What is so important to threaten one of the oldest healing orders in his kingdom?
“Here’s why.” Leontia lowered her voice. “This is known only to the sworn, but considering the circumstances, I see it fit to reveal this to you. The reason we insist the sick are transported to our temple is simple: we cannot heal anybody outside of here. Our temple is built on sacred grounds, blessed by divine Epione. We also bind our healing powers to this place with a sacred vow. The vow strengthens our powers and forbids us to ever leave.”
A sting of doubt pinched the king’s features. His forehead creased.
“It means that if you force me out of here, you’re risking the divine anger over making me break my vow,” Leontia continued in a barely audible voice. “And you’ll gain nothing, as I won’t be able to help you. My power simply won’t work. The same applies to my other sisters, every single one…” She trailed off, shooting Calliste a sideways look, her face blank. “Except…”
“Except…?” The king watched the exchange with a furrowed brow.
Calliste’s stomach dropped.
Leontia closed her eyes for a moment, the grimace of internal fight gone. She exhaled. “Except for Calliste.” Then she opened her eyes. Her countenance was a blend of apology and regret as she addressed her. “You are the only capable healer who hasn’t yet bound her power to our Temple with the vow.”
Calliste stiffened as the king’s gaze swept to her.
“I don’t want just capable ,” he growled. “I want the best.”
“She is the best,” the Head Priestess parried, her chin high. “She’s completed a rigorous, nine-year training. I’ve already named her as my successor. And she was just about to bind her power to our temple as the High Priestess, during the ceremony you’ve just interrupted.” She skewered the king with a glare. “She’s the healer of the highest skill available—the only one who can go with you.”
This isn’t happening , Calliste blinked, barely registering the praises. He’s not dragging me to Anthemos. Not Anthemos.
The king’s shrewd gaze burned enough for her to want to step away, turn around, run. He couldn’t be the man from her dream because right now he looked at her as if he wanted to tear her open to know all her thoughts and secrets. “Since I don’t have a choice,” he said slowly, “I’ll take your word for it. Come, priestess. We’re leaving now.”
Calliste threw Leontia a startled look.
“Wait.” The Head Priestess raised her hand. “Let me speak to her first.” Seeing the king scowl, she crossed her arms. “Have some decency. Give us a moment, will you? And step outside.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Make it short. I’m waiting by the front gate.” Then he spun on his heel and marched off without another word.
Calliste fixed her eyes on his figure, shrinking as he strode across the central aisle, then dropped her eyes to the marble floor, rubbing her forehead. A mild headache had already settled: a price to pay for standing too close to that unhinged man. This is not happening.
“Calliste.”
Her restraint broke in an instant. “I cannot go, Leontia, you cannot expect me to go, not to Anthemos!” She swung to her, clenching her hands. “I was supposed to take my vow today! You mustn’t allow him to take me away!” She shouldn’t have raised her voice, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t even care if the king had heard her.
“Shush, child. He might hear you.” With a heavy exhale, Leontia led her away from the altar, heading for the side door leading back to the monastery. “Gods above. Forgive me, Calliste. I never thought he’d come down here and do what he just did. But if there’s anyone who can help him, it would be you.”
“Help him with what?”
The Head Priestess closed her eyes. Her face, usually kind and soft, was now lined and sharp, as if the exchange with the king had aged her. Perhaps the idea of her beloved Sisterhood being disbanded and cast to the winds had caught up with her.
“Leontia,” Calliste repeated. “What could be so important as to threaten us like this?”
“He’ll have to explain it to you.” Leontia opened her eyes. “Believe me, knowing it cost me sleepless nights. But I knew I couldn’t do anything even if I traveled to Anthemos. It never crossed my mind that you could go instead of me, but it makes perfect sense now.”
“Perfect sense?” Calliste deadpanned. “Leontia, none of this makes any sense to me.”
“No?” The Head Priestess pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yet just this morning, you dreamed of the man who took you away from me. Did you not?”
“The man in my dream was kind,” she said through her clenched teeth. And charming. And sweet. “Hardly an irreverent madman.”
“Dreams foretell the future to some extent, Calliste. They rarely are the same as the reality. Even though you only told me some of it, it’s clear to me that you have to go with him. Or would you rather he dissolved our Sisterhood? It is well within his power.”
“The gods will curse him if he does,” Calliste said with the confidence she didn’t feel at all.
“Have you not seen enough?” Leontia asked. “Do you truly think he’ll mind?” She pondered for a moment. “The worst is that I understand everything he did here, and if I do, then it’s no secret to our goddess, either. If you think of him as a wounded lion, all his actions will make more sense. He’s determined, and desperate. He can, and will punish us if we don’t help.”
“Leontia,” Calliste tried again. “You’ve heard him. He said Panakeios is not coping. Panakeios! Doesn’t he lead the School of Asklepios? If he’s at a loss, how can I be of any help?”
Leontia chewed on her lip with a strange expression on her face. “Disciples of Asklepios follow different teachings and employ different methods. You studied the history of both orders, anyhow, so you know it doesn’t mean you cannot help.”
“But why me? Why us? No king has ever asked for our help. I’m surprised he even knows we exist.”
“Of course the king is aware of our existence. His line granted us permission to establish our temple… on his land, Calliste. If he revokes his permission, we have nowhere else to go.”
Calliste shielded her face with her hands. “Are you telling me that I have no choice?”
The Head Priestess didn’t reply.
“And I have to go… now?” Calliste glanced down at her festive white robe with golden trimming. “As I am?”
“No. Change. Pack. Take what you need. He’ll have to understand as much.”
“And this?” Calliste lifted her emerald in her palm. “Do I need to return it? I’m not sworn.”
“You will need it to use your full power.” Holding her by the elbow, Leontia led her to the small side exit. “Go back to your chamber and prepare yourself. I’ll speak with the king and fetch you shortly.” Then she turned on her heel and strode down the main aisle to the double door, disturbing the last, thin swirls of smoke from the incense.
Calliste glanced at the marble profile of Epione at the main altar, hoping for a clue, a sign. Anything to tell her she could stay.
But the goddess’s statue stood in silence woven of tattered smoke and golden glitter of candlelight, uncaring and distant.