The Cerulean (Untitled Duology, #1)(76)
“No,” Leela agreed. And she had no interest in apprenticeships any longer. Most of her friends had found their calling and she had found hers—she simply could not tell anyone about it. So she would have to concoct a story, but with some truth to it. She could not bear to think of herself being as deceitful as the High Priestess.
“I thought I would go to the temple,” she said. “It has been so long since I have prayed.”
Her orange mother looked delighted. “What a fine idea! I can accompany you if you wish.”
Leela bit her lip. “If it is all right with you, Orange Mother, I would like to go alone.”
Her mother looked crestfallen for a second but recovered quickly. “Of course. You are grown now. Your silly old mother keeps forgetting. I suppose I want to keep you as my child for as long as I can.”
“I will always be your child,” Leela said, reaching across the table for her hand, “no matter where I live or how old I am or what I call you.” Once a daughter left her mothers’ house to live on her own, she no longer called them Mother, but their given names. It was strange to Leela to think of calling her orange mother Lastra. “Shall I stop by the Apiary and bring some honey home for our bread tonight?”
“That would be lovely.” Her orange mother tucked a lock of hair behind Leela’s ear. “I am very proud of the woman you have become, Leela. The loss you have suffered, especially for one so young . . . yet you have forged ahead with light and love in your heart. You are an inspiration. I hope you know that.”
Leela felt her throat tighten. “Thank you, Orange Mother.” She finished her tea in silence, then took her leave of the dwelling.
The temple was nearly empty when she arrived, mostly novices and a handful of tired-looking orange mothers. Heena was among them, leaving just as Leela entered.
“Good morning, Leela,” she said warmly. “I did not know you were so devout. Most of the girls our age are still in bed.”
“I wished to pray for Sera at the Altar of the Lost,” Leela replied, astonished at how smoothly the lie slipped out. Was this how lying worked, becoming easier the more you did it?
Heena blinked and her lips twitched. “Oh. Yes, of course.”
“And you?” Leela asked.
“I am praying for a birthing season to begin.”
“Already?”
She laughed. “I know. But Plenna is eager to bear a child. Though I have reminded her over and over that it can be years between a wedding season and a birthing season.” Heena smiled indulgently.
“Then I hope Mother Sun hears your prayers,” Leela said.
“We have already been so lucky in that we did not have to wait long to be married, like some other triads. Plenna may have to learn some patience.” She gave Leela a playful nudge. “Have any Cerulean caught your eye? You are such a caring and thoughtful girl.”
“I . . .” Leela had so much on her mind, she had not thought about love or desire at all since Sera had died. Those feelings seemed foreign to her now, fragments of a life that no longer existed. “No, not as yet. But I thank you for the compliment. Excuse me, I must pray.”
Heena watched her walk away with a mixture of confusion and pity on her face. But Leela’s mind had already bent to more important matters. She knelt before the Altar of the Lost. The intertwining threads of sungold and moonsilver that formed the shape of a sun shone in the late morning light, the blue stargems representing each life lost in the Great Sadness sparkling at her as she waited. She would sit here and pretend to pray all day if she had to. The High Priestess would have to appear at some point. Wouldn’t she? Leela wondered if she should feign interest in becoming a novice. That might bring her closer to the High Priestess physically, but it was no guarantee that she would learn anything of significance.
She ran her fingers across the altar’s surface, the gems catching on her skin.
Mother Sun, she prayed. Something is wrong here. The City is run by a liar and I do not know for what purpose, or how to expose her. I know that I am no one of any importance, really, just one young Cerulean among a thousand. But I fear this task has fallen to me, and I will find the answers if I can. If you can hear my prayer . . . help me. Please. Show me the way. Give me a sign.
She waited, holding her breath, hoping her prayer had been heard. But the minutes passed until they turned into an hour and nothing happened. She shouldn’t have expected it to. She thought about what Kandra had told her of Estelle, of how she had hoped to speak directly to Mother Sun. It was hubris. Mother Sun spoke to the High Priestess. It made Leela’s head hurt to think of what that might mean. Was Mother Sun aware of the lies?
Just then, a stargem caught her eye. It was all the way on the far edge of the altar, and the color was leaching from it, its facets dissolving and becoming smooth until it looked like . . . a tear. An actual, salty, wet tear. The one beside it shimmered and became clear, then the next, then the next, until all the stargems were changing, paling, and Leela stared at an altar filled with tears.
She reached out a trembling hand to touch them when suddenly Elorin was at her side.
“I thought that was you, Leela! What a joy to see you here.”
Leela started, pulling her hand back, and the stargems were as they had always been, dark blue and glittering. She flexed her fingers, wishing the young novice had left her alone for a just a few seconds longer.