She heard soft begging. A continuous chorus of pleas and distress came from Blue’s cell. Raeia had never been under Kyrah’s influence, but after witnessing this, she was sure she never wanted to be. Coughing and sputtering came at the end, constricted sounds echoing off thin metal.

‘I am finished,’ Kyrah said. 

High Rector Augustin moved to the door, but paused with a hand over the lock.

‘Why did you show me that shit?’ Blue’s voice spat enough venom to make Raeia flinch.

‘It is one of your guiltier moments. Not by crime of law, but by the emotional toil it has left in you. I thought it would be suitable,’ replied the soulmaster.

‘Suitable for what? To make me want to wring your neck?’ 

‘I’m surprised you have not switched again.’

‘Switched? You mean you want me to black out?’ Then louder, Blue projected their voice through the door, ‘Is that what you want, Veil? You want the monster?’

High Rector Augustin’s face was impassive beneath the opaque folds of his veil, so Raeia had no chance to discern how the man felt about Blue’s nickname for him. It was far too soft a name, she thought. 

Raeia wondered if Blue had given her a name, too. It would be a weak name, she thought. She felt weaker with every day spent at The Arabella. She used to have venom like Blue. Where had it gone? Her vision swam, head rushing with the thump of her heart, leaving no space for air. She gripped the wall for stability. A reminder her power was better left lost. 

High Rector Augustin instructed guards Ivan and Janice, who stood not far from he and Raeia, to ready themselves for moving Blue to an inspection suite. There, Raeia would finally check the baby’s vitals, though she couldn’t understand why he had thought it wise to distress Blue and the child right beforehand. It would only lead to discrepancies and a skewed assessment. 

Raeia gathered herself with shallow breaths so as not to draw attention. She stepped back and watched Ivan approach the cell with a syringe in hand. Inside, Kyrah and Blue were still exchanging words in a bizarre turn of conversation.

‘I thought you were going to be cool,’ said Blue.

‘I would not say I’m cool, but my base temperature does run quite tepid.’

‘How can you tell when I’m blacked out or not? Do you have x-ray eyes or something?’

Kyrah laughed. 

One thing Raeia had never heard was Kyrah’s laugh, and it was a terribly strange sound. Her skin prickled in its wake.

‘That would be an interesting ability, but I think it would not help with seeing your eye changes.’ 

Blue grumbled something incoherent. No, not incoherent, Raeia realised. In another language. Hightongue was what everyone spoke from a young age. It was taught in classes so countries could band together under Tassurian rule while keeping portions of their individual identities intact with native languages. Tassuri had been shrewd in their expansion eight hundred years prior. Snuffing out original tongues might have raised resistance, but the majority of city state leaders had bowed their heads to the Tassurian Codes. Those who hadn’t, were erased from the land and from history. It was the same method Tassuri had used with the Scillas in the early days. The religious group would be far more dangerous run underground than under plain sight. 

Raeia was from Lernich, and had gleaned from Ibictor Janice that Blue was from Alturica, but it wasn’t Alturican she heard. That was a notoriously harsh sounding language with strange muddles of rough-rolled rs and chesty cs. Whatever Blue mumbled, was matched by Kyrah, who swung into a lilting, soft language that Raeia wasn’t too acquainted with. She was able to pinpoint it with Kyrah’s clearer diction though. Vonatian. Vonaty was in the far-south. Had Blue lived there? Raeia had always wanted to visit.

Fingers snapped in front of her face. Raeia jerked and nearly backed against the wall at the sight of High Rector Augustin’s withered gaze. ‘Go and fetch Miss Adofo. Send her to take care of this inspection instead.’

‘I can do it.’ The last thing Raeia wanted to do was send her own girlfriend to see how unhinged Blue was. Willow would demand they swap roles for good because she knew just how easily attached Raeia became to people. It was already too late to stop it. Raeia wanted to perform the inspection so she could ensure the baby and Blue were okay. She needed to know for herself. 

‘Fine.’ High Rector Augustin turned from her to deal with his subordinates. Before he left, the High Rector pressed close to the door and spoke in his most cruel of tones. ‘Make sure you produce a healthy baby for us, Blue. Corina Bain is first in line for adoption.’ 

If the others noticed, they said nothing about it, but Raeia was sure she did not imagine the air being touched with the chill of ice.

Raeia was in somewhat of a trance after she left the solitary cells for dinnertime. Confusion dappled her thoughts because High Rector Augustin never spoke directly to any of the new clerics. It was just as well. Even in silence, the High Rector was a vile creature that made every aspect of Raeia’s life more difficult. His words to Blue replayed in her mind again and again. Who was Corina Bain? And what in all hells was Blue’s dhaheri that she kept turning Raeia’s bones to ice? She should have let Willow take her place. She always fell too deep, trying to fix things that weren’t hers to mend. 

The dinner hall, though dark due to boarded windows and dim lights, was abuzz with women and girls munching, and cutlery chiming. General conversations weren’t allowed at mealtimes, only discussions on what they’d learned in that day’s lessons. Lessons were usually monotonous. They all had to learn secretarial skills because receptionist posts at Tassuri’s state offices were the only ones they would be hired for after leaving The Arabella. Companies didn’t hire people branded with shame. 

Raeia had never seen a physical stamp or brand left on any of the girls who left, but there were rumours of them. It was said that a needle was dipped in ink and sterilised blood mopped from the maternity wards, then the needle was used to leave the mark of a veiled figure on the woman’s abdomen. Rumours though, usually started and ended in the kitchens. The young women who worked there rarely left, and when they did, it was to share a tall tale with someone in the bathing rooms. Raeia was sure half their jargon was fuelled by the stove gas fumes. 

Sitting at their usual table, nestled in the corner farthest from the deli and opposite the entrance, was Willow. Whenever she looked at Willow, Raeia thought of starlight on a serene winter’s night. Willow was radiant, her tight-curled hair the splendent white of Big Moon. The anxious energy that the day had brought on muted at the sight of her, and when Raeia found her seat beside Willow’s, she was able to take her first deep breath in hours. 

‘What’s the matter?’ Willow pressed a hand to her knee beneath the table. 

‘Later.’ She grazed her fingers over Willow’s, a fleeting touch, then began to cut her potatoes up into small orderly pieces. 

Willow pulled something from the pocket in her robes. The shock of yellow was stark against the black maternity ward robes. It was a buttercup, pressed to delicate flatness. ‘Thank you for the gift,’ Willow whispered with a smile. ‘I needed it.’

Raeia looked at the squashed flower that she’d left in Willow’s robes before her long night shift began. She’d begun pressing flowers in her books two years before, fascinated by the process. The way life-filled flowers could dry there, pressed in so tight, and find a new form of life. The Scillas always forgot that the clerics were so used to being smothered, they had become comfortable in the tight, dark places of the world. 

‘Let’s get some air after,’ Raeia said, overcome by a sudden thirst for the sea. 

Chapter continued >>>>