She cursed herself for being so reckless. But as they made their way across Faesa’s Bridge, Leela felt her resolve harden. Whatever this penance was, it couldn’t last forever. She would pay the price and she would return to finding a way to get Sera home.
They skirted the hedge that surrounded the Moon Gardens, novices inclining their heads as the High Priestess passed, then shooting Leela curious looks.
The High Priestess had not spoken a single word to Leela throughout the entire walk, and while Leela was beginning to feel the weight of the silence, the High Priestess herself did not seem to notice. She moved so gracefully she appeared to glide, her face set in an expressionless mask, and Leela could feel the heat of her body radiating through her long robe. The moonstone in the High Priestess’s circlet gleamed in the sunlight and Leela was possessed with the sudden urge to pull the circlet from her head and pry the stone from its setting. She wondered if maybe there were more answers in that stone than in any of the statues in the Moon Gardens.
Leela felt weary as they approached the doors to the temple, her feet dragging, her head bowed. This morning, the world had seemed full of possibilities, but now everything had changed again. The freedom she had taken for granted was gone. She would be watched. Wherever she went, she would be seen as the young Cerulean who’d broken the rules.
But even worse—she had lied to her mothers and she had been caught. She had disappointed them, and Leela’s stomach pinched with the shame of it.
Just then the sun lit on the temple’s golden spire, a blinding flash of brilliant yellow that vanished as quickly as it had come. The High Priestess was still climbing the temple steps, but Leela’s own legs had turned to stone.
She stared at the copper doors, where the markings of Mother Sun were etched in ever-changing, indecipherable symbols. Only they weren’t indecipherable any longer.
Heal them.
Two simple words written over and over and over.
“Leela?” The High Priestess stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at her. “I know you are frightened, but this must be done. There are consequences to every action.”
“What do the doors say?” Leela blurted without thinking.
The High Priestess froze for only half a second, but in that brief moment Leela sensed uncertainty and a hint of what might have been fear.
“That is no concern of yours,” she replied tartly. “The symbols of Mother Sun are meant for the High Priestess alone to decipher and share with the City as she will.”
She can’t read them. The thought came wild and unbidden to Leela’s mind, and once there, she knew she was right. Another lie uncovered—for it was true, everyone in the City thought the symbols were meant only for the High Priestess to read. But who had told them that? The High Priestess herself. Leela did not know why or how she could understand the symbols all of a sudden, but she knew they were no hallucination. It took a great amount of effort to lower her head and trudge up the stairs. She could not afford to look upon the doors again, could not give any indication to the High Priestess that she’d been able to read them.
What is happening to me? They entered the sanctum, its ceiling painted with the sun and three moons and countless stars. There was a large smattering of orange mothers present and Leela was surprised to see Sera’s among them. Though she shouldn’t have been—of course her orange mother would be praying now that Kandra had been sent to the birthing houses. Orange mothers were teachers of devotion in the Cerulean family unit, and prayer was an important part of their lives, especially prayer for a new daughter. Most of the orange mothers were praying together but Sera’s sat apart from the others, on a cushion alone in front of the Altar of the Lost: a giant sun crafted out of sungold and moonsilver and studded with dark blue stargems, one for each Cerulean lost in the Great Sadness.
The Great Sadness was the worst tragedy in all of Cerulean history, when two hundred Cerulean had been massacred on the last planet they had been tethered to, nearly nine hundred years ago. That was when the High Priestess had ascended to her role—the previous High Priestess, Luille, had died on the planet. The Great Sadness was why Cerulean were not allowed to go down onto planets at all anymore. It was too dangerous, the High Priestess said. But Sera was on the planet now, and while she had seemed anxious and sad, Leela did not have the sense she was in danger. The lies were piling up and making her head hurt.
Leela had the strongest urge to run to Sera’s orange mother, to tell her everything and see if maybe she would believe her daughter was alive when Kandra would not. But she could only follow the High Priestess as she crossed the room in sweeping strides, novices and orange mothers scattering in her wake. Acolyte Endaria was hurrying across the chancel, the look on her face leaving Leela in no doubt that the news had already reached her.
“Her purple mother has been informed,” the High Priestess said without preamble. “Send Novices Belladon and Loonir to her dwelling to tell her other mothers.”
Acolyte Endaria pressed a hand to her chest and looked at Leela with confusion and pity. “Why would you break such a sacred rule, my child?” she asked.
Leela tried to appear contrite. “I . . .”
“She is young, Endaria,” the High Priestess said, sweet sympathy in her voice, but it was too honeyed for Leela’s liking. “And still grieving the loss of her friend. You remember how it was to be young and curious and sad.”
Leela could not picture Acolyte Endaria as ever being any of those things, but the acolyte nodded fervently.
“Imima has prepared the chamber of penitence,” she said.
“Excellent. The conclave will convene tomorrow at the hour of the serpent.”
“Yes, High Priestess,” Acolyte Endaria said, bowing her head.
The High Priestess turned to Leela and fixed her with a gaze so penetrating, Leela felt as if her skin was being peeled off. She forced herself to remain still, to take courage in the memory of Sera’s heartbeat and the knowledge that her friend was out there and needed her, refusing in this moment to show either true fear or fake humility. The High Priestess had lies on her side—Leela had love and truth. She could feel her love for Sera shimmering in every facet of her blood. For one thrilling, weightless moment, Leela had the sense that the High Priestess was afraid of her.
Then the High Priestess’s lips twitched as if she wanted to smile and Leela felt her heart crumble into a pile of hot ashes.
“We all make mistakes, Leela,” she said. “We all challenge authority in some way when we are young. Do not despair. You will grow from this lesson and become an even better Cerulean than you were before. I am certain of it.”
“You will,” Acolyte Endaria echoed. “Now come with me. I will take you to the chamber of penitence, where you shall stay the night.”
The High Priestess gestured for Leela to walk the stairs that led to the chancel. Leela had never seen the room from this vantage point before—it spread out before her, endless yet also close, as if she could reach her arms out and wrap them around the entire space. The pulpit was made of nebula tree wood, silver as the moon and studded with crystal-clear stargems. Leela had never seen behind it; a single shelf lined its insides, empty now, but Leela guessed it would hold the sacred bowls the High Priestess would use for various ceremonies.