Chapter 16
Sixteen
From what I have gathered, the ceremony is taking place in the temple on the palace grounds and that fills me with a feeling of trepidation.
I have not been to temple in decades. It seems a little hypocritical to go after I was designated as one of the sullied, so I turned away from the gods.
Now I am returning after all of this time, and wear a demon’s mark.
Will I burst into flame when I step over the threshold?
Abbie walks half a step behind me, instructing me quietly on which way to turn.
I am so grateful she is here, not just because I would be lost otherwise, but because we are being watched.
The palace inhabitants seem to have decided to watch me on my walk to the temple.
What do they know about me, who do they think I am?
The palace gardens pass me in a blur, my mind not taking in those details, too focused on the temple looming in the distance.
It is huge, far larger than any I have seen before.
Built in the same white stone as the palace, the temple has been intricately carved.
In fact, the decoration carved into its pillars and walls is more intricate than the palace.
Blue tiles make up decorative panels on the outside walls, contrasting beautifully against the pale stone.
Matching the palace, it has a large domed roof.
Ahead, I can see more people. A lot more people.
They have all gathered outside the temple, creating an open corridor that leads up to the entrance, eagerly facing inward.
They are waiting for something, or someone.
Wait… The cold fingers of dread trail down my spine as I come to a horrific realisation. These people are all waiting for me.
My gut lurches, the crowd seemingly turning as one to watch me.
Who are they and why are they here to see me?
Having attention on me has never been a good thing.
Even before I was designated sullied, attention in the Gutter usually led to bad consequences, whether it was the guards, the gangs or over-interested males.
My body instantly reacts, preparing for the worst based on my past experiences.
None of this is conscious, my body simply reacting to the sense of danger I feel.
Heart pounding, my chest becomes tight, as though the weight of my fear is sitting on my chest, making it difficult to breathe.
I’m breaking out in a sweat, a bead running down my forehead despite the mild morning temperature.
I brush it away, noticing that my fingers are trembling.
Releasing a huff of breath, I drop my arms to my sides, balling my hands into fists.
I was not particularly worried about this ceremony, yet now I am put in front of a group of people and I feel as though I am going to throw up or pass out.
The anticipation is building inside me, the not knowing what awaits me making this ten times worse.
My steps slow, eyes scanning the two rows of people all looking my way. I need to do this, one foot in front of the other. However, no matter how much I say this to myself, I stumble to a stop.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I focus on my breathing, attempting to get it under control. I hear Abbie asking me a question from behind me, but my heartbeat is pounding in my ears so loud that I cannot make out what she is saying. Adrenaline pulses through my body, my limbs tingling, primed and ready.
Fight or flight; these are my choices. Flee the situation and accept the consequences, or stay and fight. It might not be a physical fight, but surviving under the stern eye of the king and his courtiers will be a battle all the same.
Fight or flight. What will I choose?
I cannot run from this. My future has been changed forever and I either get dragged along or I learn to accept it.
Attempting to escape is futile. Fleeing now, knowing what I do, would be a coward way out, and that is something I have never been.
Survival and cowardice are two different things, and knowing the difference is key.
This is my life now and I will grow and mould myself to survive.
However, I will never forget that they put me in this position.
The low hum of voices fill the air, buzzing around me like insects.
Speculative whispers and pointed stares bore into me as new rumours are created on the spot.
I can only imagine what they are going to say about my hesitation.
I need to appear strong, any hesitation will be taken as a weakness.
Opening my eyes and releasing a long, calming breath, I roll back my shoulders and glance to the side where my maid stands nervously wringing her hands.
“What is happening?” I ask Abbie, desperately hoping she has an answer for me.
“They are here for you,” she replies quietly, a smile blooming across her face. “They think of you as a saint.”
A laugh bubbles up in me. A saint. Me, a sullied who they would prefer dead, is now being looked upon as someone so pure and godly. This is insane, everything about this feels wrong. There is no doubt in me that living in the palace is going to be as dangerous as surviving on the streets.
I start to walk toward the temple again, keeping my thoughts on this to myself.
A hush settles on those waiting, the silence suddenly so loud in contrast. Chest tight, I swallow the lump at the back of my throat and keep my gaze on the pathway ahead.
I probably appear cold and distant to those watching as I ignore their outstretched hands, but I know I won’t be able to keep my composure if I look into any of their faces.
What would I see staring back at me? Hope? Anger? Or worse, adoration?
Reaching the steps to the temple, I quickly climb them, leaving those waiting behind. The cool shadows of the building are a blessing, the morning air already roasting. Not to mention that the shelter offers me privacy from the masses outside.
Enjoying the cool air on my skin, it takes me a moment to fully acknowledge my surroundings.
Lifting my eyes, my mouth drops open in total awe.
I had thought the outside of the temple was one of the most impressive structures I had ever seen, but the inside is stunning in a way I never even thought was possible.
I’m blown away. As with the outside, the inside structure is made of the same pale stone, intricate carved arches and pillars with designs so complex it seems impossible that a human could possibly have made these.
Tilting my head back, dizziness hits me as I stare up at the domed ceiling, the arches and paintings making it seem further away.
“My Lady, are you ready?” Abbie asks quietly, catching me out.
I am going to give myself away to everyone if I cannot look at the inside of a temple without staring.
Embarrassment makes my cheeks heat, and I slowly meet her gaze with a sheepish smile.
However, her expression throws me off guard.
Her smile is understanding, no signs of disapproval.
Something stirs in my chest, bringing with it old memories of my time as a child before I was made sullied.
The warmth of friendship and the sense of kinship between two women.
Over the years, distrust and fear have taken that from me, and I doubt I would recognise any of those past friends now.
However, with Abbie, she’s awoken that part of myself that I had forgotten about.
Now is really not the time to be thinking about old friendships though and she leads me through the temple at my nod.
It really is stunning in here, and this time I am able to keep my awe to myself.
There are many alcoves in the walls and quiet spaces for contemplation, but huge golden doors stand propped open at the back of the room, leading us into the centre of the temple.
The central room is huge, and with the large dome above of us the space open and surprisingly bright.
When I visited temples previously, I always found them oppressive.
That feeling is absent as I take in the airy, awe-inspiring space.
In the very centre of the room is a fountain.
It is simple in comparison to its surroundings, a humble offering to the gods.
This is the original spring for our kingdom, the source of water that started it all.
Pale flagstones are paved around the fountain, again, simple in design and such a contrast to the patterned mosaic tiles that cover the rest of the floor.
A ring of people circles the fountain, standing back so they do not touch the flagstones, as though getting too close would offend the gods.
Taking in the group of males, I spot the king immediately.
As though a cloud forms over me, my thoughts become dark and turbulent, a storm imminent.
His advisor and several of the court Lords are precent, but not the queen or the rest of the crowd from the other day.
After her outburst the other day I am not surprised that the king is keeping her away.
A flash of white catches my attention and I see that I missed someone. Standing in full ceremonial clothing, one of the Chosen is waiting beside the fountain. Although his hood is up, I recognise him anywhere.
Caleb. He’s here.
The butterflies in my stomach morph into birds, desperate to burst from my chest and run to my friend in a combination of relief and happiness to see him.
Everything else falls away, my vision tunnelled.
Each of my steps feels lighter, eager to cross the distance between us.
When I didn’t see him the other night I feared the worst, but here he is, waiting for me.