32. Chapter Thirty #2
But I fought against it. I clamped my teeth together, forcing my will to silence it.
I breathed through the tide until, at last, it receded.
My knees trembled and my heart thundered against my rib cage in a relentless rhythm.
The women only laughed lightly, mistaking my breathlessness for nerves, chattering about the feast as they ushered me into the bath.
They shoved me into rose-scented water, and even though I was now naked in front of these women I’d just met, all I could think was—I had stopped it. Simply…willed it away. Something the High Priestess could never teach me. Something I had never let myself try.
And here, in Cindraloch, realm of kings and feasts, I’d done the impossible.
The women tugged me out, dried me, and swept me toward a mirror. Emerald silk replaced the towel, sliding over my skin with impossible quickness.
Before I could get a grip on myself, I was moving. I found the chair by the vanity more by instinct than grace.
They pinned my hair as they chattered, their voices spilling like water over stone. Venison roasting, the east wing polished for guests—ordinary talk, as if the Seer of the Seven Realms being dressed for a feast was nothing remarkable.
Strangely, that sense of ordinary steadied me. I cleared my throat. “Do you always serve here? At Scáthae’s court?”
One of the women met my eyes in the mirror. She had soft and delicate features, and like most mortals touched by divinity, she was inhumanly beautiful. “When we’re not in training, yes.”
“Training?”
“All Aíne’s daughter’s train,” she said simply, pride bright in her voice.
My eyes widened. “Aíne? The moon goddess? You're sired to her?”
Another woman grinned, mischief in her eyes. “All three of us. She is our mother. Our bond is hers. Scáthae and the moon goddess are…close.”
Aíne. The same goddess Saorla carried her blessing from, but blessing was one thing—siring was another.
Yet, here were three women laughing like sisters, brushing out my hair and fussing over gems, their voices reverent with devotion to the goddess who birthed them.
Like they weren’t forced into servitude because of it. Treating me as if I was one of them.
Just like Mairenn had.
“She gave us light,” the third said softly, strawberry-blonde hair falling long down her chest. “And discipline, a purpose.”
Curiosity pressed past my usual restraint. “What does your training look like?”
They exchanged glances, a sense of honor sparking between them.
“Not blades or bows like Scáthae’s chosen,” the one at my right said, voice lilting with certainty. “We are not made for steel.”
“It is moonlight,” another added, braiding the last twist into my hair. “The weave of it, the way it bends and heals, cuts when it must. Feminine, but no less fierce. It can banish shadows—or draw them closer.”
“Our mother teaches us its language,” the third whispered, fingertips brushing the gown as if it were woven by the stars. “We shape it, wield it as she wills. No lesson is ever the same. The moon never shows one face for long.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Moonlight. Every realm had its own moon, so there were seven of them. Saorla once told me that each moon had its own personality—its own purpose in the grand design of the universe.
Saorla. Gods, she would love it here—among daughters birthed by a goddess, with devotion made to feel like belonging. She would laugh at the thought of wielding moonlight.
But Saorla wasn’t here. She’d chosen her temple in the Seventh Realm, her duties, and Aine’s blessing that kept her from ascension to godhood. She would never know this pride, this freedom that looked like servitude but was clearly something more.
For a moment, I ached for her—for what she would never be allowed. For what I was now seeing but could never touch.
I barely recognized the reflection staring back at me.
My long dark hair was twisted and pinned, with soft curls framing my face.
The gown Mairenn had chosen would be considered scandalous by my temple—neckline dripping low, midnight-dark threads of silk shimmering like starlight.
The women behind me made little sounds of delight, fawning over beauty I’d never allowed myself to claim.
I’d never thought myself particularly alluring. Blessed with divinity, yes, but plain by even mortal standards.
But I didn’t feel plain now. I felt…delicate. Pretty, even.
Mairenn swept back into the chamber and I scowled when she laughed. “Oh, Aurenya. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Heat rushed to my already rosy cheeks, I cleared my throat and forced my voice steady. “Is Scáthae going to be there?”
Her musical laugh deepened. “Obviously. You dine at her table tonight.”
The thought tangled in me as she led me out, leaving the ladies-in-waiting behind. Each step forward only spun my nerves tighter.
The hallways blazed with banners and jeweled sconces. Light scattered across stone. Then the stairs opened before us, sweeping down into the great dining hall.
Mairenn’s laugh still echoed in my ears, but the grandeur—candlelit banners, goblets flashing firelight—barely touched me.
All I felt was the coil in my chest.
Because I was about to dine with a Goddess of War in her own halls.