Chapter 9 #2
I press my hand against the stone wall and speak the priestess’s name. ‘Dinah Poltick.’
How long it takes her to come to the calling varies, but within minutes I am pacing, anxiety creeping up with every footstep. It has only been a matter of days since she was the avatar of Etta, hosting the Great Goddess in her human body. And while it is an honour, it comes with a toll.
As time passes I cannot help but picture Dinah in my mind, frail and weak, lying upon her bed, still ravaged by the Goddess’s presence. What if she’s hurt? What if being the avatar of the Gods causes something worse than mere weariness? What if it’s not an honour one even survives?
The thought tightens my chest, making each breath feel shallow and laboured.
‘Rose?’ I spin around to find Dinah standing behind me. She is dressed in her usual blue priestess’s garb to match the blue stone embedded in her forehead. Her eyes are tired, but warm.
A smile lifts her lips at the sight of me. ‘I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting. I was performing a blessing in the temple. I could not leave.’ She wraps her arms tightly around me, drawing me in. ‘Is everything all right? You’re stone cold,’ she says, clucking her tongue at me.
‘I need to talk to you. Is there somewhere we can go?’ I ask her. ‘Somewhere private?’
‘Of course.’ She releases me from her warm embrace. ‘Follow me.’
Dinah parts the stones of the wall with a sweep of her hand and ushers me through the divide and into the Goddess’s Garden. Being in the priestess’s presence is enough to ease my anxiety. Dinah will have the answers – she always does.
Inside the garden, I cannot help but get distracted by the beds full of herbs and flowers. The Goddess’s Garden was my mother’s favourite place, and it was from here that I once pilfered a deadly poison without Dinah’s knowledge or consent.
I still do not regret my actions nor do they haunt my conscience. Rula, who ran one of the slum’s protection rackets, used the poison to kill a rapist and murderer, the victims of whom included one of the few friends Kay had in the slums.
Not that Kay ever found out the true cause of her friend’s death. Back then I told her Talia was killed in a bar fight, and she believed me without a moment’s doubt.
I’ve always protected Kay, even from the truth.
But now three rings adorn her hand, and I have learned what I should have known all along: that I cannot protect her from herself. From her own poor choices.
Part of me still refuses to accept that this marriage has taken place, although I can admit to myself that Jonas is a far better choice than Artur.
The fact that he has kept William safe all these years should earn him more of my respect, even if it’s the very same reason that anger bubbles in my veins.
I do not know how to forgive him for his deception.
It’s only when I see the way Dinah is looking at me that I realise I have stopped walking. Rooted myself to the ground, mired in my own fears.
With a nod of my head, I force a deep breath in and expel the fear that only moments ago had gripped me. It is not possible to live that way. Anticipating danger around every corner. Always imagining the worst. Always primed for attack.
It was the way of the slums and the Retterheld. But now that needs to change. Whatever perils may await me in my future, I will fight them head-on when they arrive, but I will not give them the space in my mind before then. I owe myself that much.
After all, if being the gifted can’t save me from the unravelling of life, then being stuck inside my own head surely won’t.
As we continue through the Goddess’s Garden, I spot the hemlock plant that I stole leaves from before another plant grabs my attention.
Slowing slightly, I look at a deep purple bud, trying to recall its use.
Cravenwort, my magic whispers to me. The berries are toxic, but the leaves can be steeped in milk to make a tonic to cure inflammation. And with a little magic, it can calm a blistering infection in minutes.
Did I know that before? I’m not quite sure, but I don’t believe so. It’s clear that this magic – my mother’s magic – holds far more power than I ever realised.
No wonder she adored these gardens. To her it must have been a veritable catalogue of rare plants and herbs and their myriad uses.
‘Just through here,’ Dinah says as she opens a gate into a small courtyard.
The space offers a degree of privacy, with no one else around, but the fence is relatively low, only about seven feet, and made of thin wood.
Someone could easily stand behind the feeble fence and overhear our whole conversation.
‘It’s warded.’ Dinah effortlessly reads my dubious expression. ‘You don’t need to concern yourself, Rose. No one will be able to hear what we say.’
‘What about see?’ I ask. I have heard of those who can read lips.
She shakes her head. ‘The courtyard always appears empty,’ she explains. ‘That is part of the ward. For all we know, there may be plenty of other people here at the same time as us, also discussing private things.’
I reach out and swing my arm around me, twirling in place to see if anyone is within arm’s reach. Thankfully, no one is close enough for me to make contact with, and my nerves settle a little further.
‘Come,’ Dinah says with an indulgent smile at my antics. ‘Sit with me, Rose.’
A smooth bench appears where I swear there wasn’t one before. I hesitate only a moment before taking a seat beside her, enjoying the impossible warmth of the stone.
Dinah watches me with a cautious look I recognise all too well – the kind reserved for situations that must be handled carefully, delicately.
Does she know what I am going to ask of her?
If so, then she must have some knowledge to impart, and that gives me hope that I may walk away from this encounter a little wiser than when I first entered it.
I study the older woman, her face still clear of lines, making her appear ageless. She raised my mother, yet her appearance remains almost as youthful as my own. Her eyes are open and ready, but the warm smile has been tempered.
She is the Goddess’s servant first and foremost, and my faux grandmother second. It is a truth always worth reminding myself of.
‘Something troubles you,’ she says as an opening gambit. ‘I can feel it – your worry, your concern. What is it, my child? You may speak freely here.’
I draw in a long breath, and despite all her assurances of privacy, I still cannot help but drop my voice low. ‘It’s about my powers.’
‘The ones the Holy Goddess restored?’
‘Those,’ I admit, ‘and others. Powers that returned to me before the gifting. Powers that I discovered during the Retterheld, given to me during one of the trials. Powers I should not have, but which are still here.’
She stills. She is not startled by this admission – she’s never startled – but she is alert in a way that tightens the air around us. She knows.
‘Which trial?’ she asks, and I suspect she is giving herself time to think.
‘The third, on Follen Lake.’
Dinah exhales slowly. ‘Where the Issen spirits roam.’
I instinctively lower my voice further still. This secret could see me dead. Kay and William, too.
But I have known that since I killed Oke. The only way to keep us safe is to control it.
‘Yes. My new powers … one of them is ice, Dinah.’