Hilde sat beneath the tree, a book in her lap, and I joined her. A Dragonman stood behind us, monitoring our conversation. Spying for his master.
“Did you always want to be a priestess, Hilde?”
She touched the stub of one of her knuckles to the scar running down her left cheek, her gaze distant. “Not always.”
The Dragonman cleared his throat in warning.
I rolled my eyes, but Hilde opened her book and began.
“This book is the Gud Sager, a chronicle of the Ice Gods. Once, magiskas could use their gifts freely throughout the world, but that was before the Gud Rift, when all the gods were forced to choose sides. Now, for each gift the Green Gods gave you, you must make a sacrifice to the corresponding Ice God. Only with the god’s blessing will your power flow unencumbered, with no further price to be paid.”
I pointed to a symbol on the page: three connecting triangles, overlapping. Draki had drawn it in the sand when I prayed to Seffra. “What’s this mean?”
“Sacrifice. A blood offering, in exchange for a god’s favor.”
This was the same symbol my uncle had drawn in front of his home when he promised his wife and daughter to Gwylor. It was the symbol he’d etched in the dirt of my cell in Stony Harbor before he tried to burn me alive. If it worked for both the Ice Gods and the Green Gods, he must have found it buried in the pages of the Forbidden Scriptures.
“That’s it?” I said. “Make an offering, draw a symbol, pray to the right god.”
“In the simplest of terms, though each god’s demands are dependent upon the gift you’re requesting. But, Lira, these rituals are dangerous. You cannot pretend. Whatever you ask for, whatever you promise, you have to mean it with the whole of your heart. Otherwise, the gods might strike you down.”
These rituals were about asking for power, to be stronger, better able to defend myself and what I held dear. “I will mean it.”
“You have the blood of seven gods inside you. Draki was very specific about which of their gifts he’ll allow you to claim until you’ve proven your loyalties. In accordance with his wishes, there are certain gods’ rituals I am not permitted to teach you.”
I threw a glance at the Dragonman shadowing us. “Of course.”
Hilde showed me pictures and read me stories about the gods and goddesses Draki had chosen for me. Jardun, goddess of crops and soil. Velder, god of wind and sky. Leggi, goddess of health and fertility. “Shall we start with Leggi?”
My mind churned with possibilities. Earth and wind made worthy weapons—I’d seen it myself in Stalwart Bay, the strength of the earth-shifters and wind-wafters I’d fought beside—but how was I supposed to attack someone with fertility? “Is it truly my choice, or has the Dragon dictated the order in which I am to receive my gifts?”
Hilde offered me a wry smile.
“Leggi it is.”
The priestess’s smile faded. “To gain power over health, you must sacrifice your own. A common illness in Iseneld is sor mund. It’s rarely fatal, but it’s quite unpleasant. A man in Sjoglen came down with it a few days ago.” She stood, beckoning me to follow.
“Wait. That’s why we’re here? So I can catch this man’s illness?”
“Yes.” Hilde paused. “Unless you do not wish to gain this gift.”
It might not make an effective weapon, but curing illness was a valuable gift. I nodded, and Hilde led me to one of the cottages, where a man lay shivering in a bed pushed close to the hearth. Heat radiated off him, and he was only half conscious, babbling to himself. All of the gods’ rituals required blood, so I pricked my finger, using the droplets to draw three overlapping triangles across the sick man’s forehead. Then I prayed to Leggi to heal this man, to transfer his illness to me and use it to make me stronger.
By the time we left the cottage, my skin was flushed and my bones had begun to ache. I leaned heavily against a cart filled with straw. “The Ice Gods don’t dally, do they?”
“We should get you back to the fortress.”
“Don’t,” I said as she came closer. “You’ll catch it too.”
Hilde huffed, wrapping her arm around my waist, supporting some of my weight. “I’m a priestess. Leggi will protect me.”
On the ride back to Dragon’s Lair, I began to shiver and sweat. Draki had let me ride to Sjoglen on my own horse instead of on his, a thing I’d been relieved about on the way there but was starting to regret now as I teetered in my saddle. I stopped my horse several times so I could lean over and retch.
Sor mund, this sickness was called. Sour mouth.
I laughed, then retched again. My limbs felt fuzzy, like they weren’t really there. My head felt fuzzy too. I closed my eyes, just for a second.
I woke in my bedroom in Dragon’s Lair. Hilde was there, murmuring encouragement, mopping the sweat from my skin. She held a bucket beneath me as I vomited up everything I’d ever eaten, wiped my mouth, and settled the blankets over me when my stomach finally calmed. “I think your gods are punishing me,” I told her.
“If that’s true, you must have done something to deserve it.”
She was teasing, but an image rose in my mind: four young women falling from a watchtower. “You hardly know me, Hilde. Why are you so kind to me?” The priestess’s hands came in and out of focus, the scarred knuckles, the empty space where her middle three digits should have been. “How can you be kind, after everything the Dragon has done to you?”
“The Dragon didn’t do this. He’s never touched me. There is no kindness in him, but rarely is he cruel without cause.” She sat back, folding her arms around herself. “There is kindness in me because of the compassion others have shown me. I offer it to you because you’re in need of it, and I believe you will share it as I have.”
Inside me were cavities of rage, hollows of grief. There was little room left for kindness. “I will try.”
The room tilted, and the world faded once more.
The next time I woke, it wasn’t Hilde at my bedside. I was too weak to sit up. A hand slid behind my neck, lifting me so I could purge my stomach. A glass touched my lips, and I drank. It chafed to lie there, frail and wasted, letting my enemy care for me. I should have told him to go, but I didn’t want to be alone. The sickness had sapped my pride.
“Where’s Hilde?” My voice was little more than a croak, leaking from my raw throat.
Draki dipped a cloth in a bowl of water, draped it over my forehead. “Resting. She’s been watching over you for the last two days.”
Two days? No, no, I’d been sick for years. Every inch of me was swollen, my flesh stretched too tight over my bones, my eyes wobbling like marbles in my skull. “Are you enjoying this, Draki? Watching me suffer?”