“Come,” Acolyte Endaria said, standing. “I will show you to your bed.”
Leela followed obediently, and had to shield her eyes at the light of the setting sun when they emerged from the temple—she had become too accustomed to the dimness of the chamber of penitence. The Moon Gardens were so radiant that Leela felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. They passed Aila’s statue, her laughing face turned upward toward the stars, and Leela wanted to throw her arms around the moonstone and cry with joy that she was finally outside again. The rich smells of grass and earth and flowers filled her nose. She felt so light she could fly.
Acolyte Endaria led her to where the novices’ dormitory was, taking her down the steps to the large circular room beneath the temple. She had come here once before with Elorin, and she saw the novice’s bed now, her nightstand laid with a golden comb and stargem ring. The vase, which had previously contained a moonflower, now held a pale blue rose. But Acolyte Endaria directed her to the opposite side of the room.
“This is where you will sleep,” she said. A novice robe was folded neatly at the end of her new bed. “You may bathe in the Estuary this evening if you wish. Tomorrow you must begin your work cleaning the temple.”
Leela picked up the robe with hesitant fingers. “M-may I see my mothers?” she stammered. “I did not get to say goodbye to them.”
Acolyte Endaria hesitated. “I do not think that is allowed.”
A solitary tear spilled down her cheek and Leela brushed it away. “All right,” she said. She had to be strong now. She was no longer a child and her mothers could not help her.
But she missed them terribly anyway.
Acolyte Endaria’s face was creased with pity. She was the youngest of the three acolytes, with a heart-shaped face and very long eyelashes. “But of course, this was all so sudden. I am sure it would be all right for you to see them this evening once you’ve bathed. But very briefly. You must return to the temple by the hour of the owl and no later.”
Leela nodded, her heart lifting. “I will, Acolyte,” she promised. “Thank you.”
There were many novices returning from the Estuary as Leela crossed Dendra’s Bridge. Some waved at her or smiled, but most gave her suspicious looks. Leela could not blame them; she had not chosen this life the way they had. She was not truly one of them.
Leela saw Koreen with Atana again and also their friend Daina, but the pretty Cerulean girl did not appear to see her—or if she did, she pretended she hadn’t. Leela waited for a sting that did not come. The time when Koreen’s opinions had mattered to her was long gone. She had new friends now, truer ones than Koreen or Atana or Daina had ever been.
The cool waters of the Estuary were a balm against her skin, washing away three days of dirt and sweat and exhaustion. Leela floated on her back and stared up at the stars, her blue hair spilling out around her face, gentle waves lapping over her stomach and her breasts. She remembered the last time she had bathed here with Sera, the day she had given her the moonstone necklace. How much had changed since then.
At last, she emerged from the water, clean and slippery as a sun trout, and dried herself with her old dress before pulling on her new novice robe. The walk to her mothers’ dwelling felt the same and different all at once. It was a path she knew so well, but the dwelling was not her home any longer.
Lanterns were lit in the kitchen, golden light spilling out of the windows. Leela hesitated in the doorway, fearful all of a sudden that her mothers would not wish to see her. But then her purple mother came into the hall with a bolt of seresheep wool in her hands.
“Leela?” she gasped, and the wool thudded to the floor.
“Hello, Purple Mother,” Leela said. She should call her Ilianne now, she thought, and her other mothers Rooni and Lastra. She did not live at home any longer, and so must address her mothers by their given names. But she found she could not bring herself to do that quite yet. She could not bear to part with that last piece of her old self.
Her purple mother flew toward her and flung her arms around her. And then her other mothers were there hugging her and crying, and Leela had never felt so loved yet so alone.
“We miss you so much,” her green mother whispered.
“I miss you too,” Leela whispered back.
Her mothers pulled away, her orange mother fussing over her robe while her purple mother tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Are you all right? Have you eaten? You must be starved. We have some cauliflower cooking, and your green mother is making her famous purple barley salad, with arugula and lemon, just how you like it.”
Her purple mother could not seem to stop the torrent of words, as if they might be the last she would ever say to her daughter.
“I have had some broth and bread,” Leela said. “That is all I feel I can eat. And I must return to the temple by the hour of the owl.”
Her purple mother’s eyes filled with tears. “Of course,” she said.
“I am so sorry.” Leela found she could not look at her. “Purple Mother, you did me such a kindness taking me to the forest and I repaid you with lies and deceit.” This apology, at least, was sincere. “I did not mean to dishonor you, mothers. I only . . .”
But there were no words to explain why she had done what she did.
Her green mother lifted Leela’s chin with a gentle finger. “You think we have not seen the change in you, my darling?” She smiled, and tiny lines crinkled around the corners of her eyes. “You think I did not hear you sneaking out of your bedroom at night?”
Leela felt her stomach swoop, as if she had jumped out of a tree that was taller than expected. “You . . . knew?”
“I knew when Sera would coax you out as well,” her green mother said. “I thought you missed the adventures she used to take you on.”
“I do,” Leela admitted.
“We imagined you would confide in us,” her orange mother said. “When you were ready.”
Her purple mother fixed her with a look of bracing sympathy. “You did not sneak into the birthing houses to see Plenna, did you.”
Leela shook her head. “But please don’t ask me to explain, mothers. Only know that I am so sorry to have shamed you. I never meant to be such a disappointment.”
Her mothers looked at each other, and then they were all hugging Leela again.
“My sweet child,” her green mother murmured. “You could never be a disappointment to us. Never.”
Leela felt some of her guilt ease, the tightness in her chest soften, and she held her mothers close and breathed in their scents, lavender and rosewater and citrus.
“We will still see you,” her orange mother reminded her, “at the temple, and around the City. And you are always welcome here. This will always be your home.”
A tear slid down Leela’s cheek. “Thank you, Orange Mother. Or must I call you Lastra now?”
Her orange mother let out a choked laugh. “You may call me whatever you wish. If the High Priestess can issue four penances at once, if Sera’s sacrifice was not enough to break the tether, then . . . well, it seems as if many things in this City are changing. What you call your mothers is the least of them.”
“Perhaps it is time for change,” her green mother said. “This City has been sedentary for too long.”