Alara lay back against the round stone fountain at the center of the room, her legs crossed, fingers idly playing with the corners of a large, worn book resting in her lap. The late afternoon sunlight poured in through the open temple windows, casting golden rays across the marbled stone floors, mingling with the faint scent of lilies and sandalwood from the nearby incense.
Senior Priest Elias paced slowly across the room, his eyes closed in thought. His long white and blue robe trailed behind him, whispering softly with each step. Though age had etched lines across his face, he carried himself with a gentle strength, his white hair forming a soft halo around his head. He leaned on his walking stick, his expression calm and serene as he finally opened his eyes, turning toward Alara.
“Tell me,” he began, his voice echoing faintly through the chamber, “how do the waters of Marino correlate to the goddess Aedre?”
Alara’s gaze drifted over to her friend Rasa, who stood leaning against a marble pillar at the far side of the room. Rasa gave her a gentle smile. Her presence was a comforting constant during these lessons. Though Rasa rarely spoke, knowing she was there made these sessions bearable, even something Alara could say she looked forward to. Without her, Alara wasn’t sure if she could endure the endless hours of study and ritual.
Without looking down at the book, Alara began to recite the words she had long since memorized. “The waters of Marino directly correlate to how the Goddess feels about us. If the waters are clean, full, and flowing, the Goddess is with us and may choose to directly involve herself in our affairs. However, if they dry or become polluted, we have lost her favor and must do whatever it costs to return ourselves to her good graces.”
Her delivery was steady, practiced, and flawless. And yet, as always, the words felt hollow. Elias’ gaze lingered on her face, and a softness in his eyes made Alara uncomfortable.
“You have learned well, child,” he said gently. “You know the scriptures, you recite them flawlessly. But faith, true faith, must be felt here.” He tapped his chest lightly with a wrinkled finger. “It cannot be learned solely through words.”
Alara sighed, closing the book and setting it beside her. She looked down, her voice quiet. “I don’t know how to feel that,” she admitted. “The stories, the miracles—none of them feel real. They feel just like that—stories.”
Elias smiled knowingly, his expression filled with infinite patience. “Aedre’s voice will come to you when your heart is ready to listen. You must learn to open your heart, Alara, and allow it to guide you.” He brushed her cheek gently, lifting her gaze to meet his. “You are not alone in this struggle, my dear.”
Alara offered him a polite smile, but the discontent within her remained. How could she believe in a deity who never showed herself, not even to her, the girl destined to become her Speaker? Why did Aedre remain silent when so many needed her?
“Rasa,” Elias called, his voice carrying across the room. Rasa straightened at the sound of her name, stepping forward from the shadows. Her brown skin glowed in the sunlight, and her eyes seemed to catch the light, warm and attentive. Her long braids swayed as she uncrossed her arms. “Take Alara to her quarters to prepare for the banquet tonight.”
“Of course, Senior Priest,” Rasa replied, bowing her head respectfully. She moved toward Alara, who gathered her book and rose to her feet.
Elias gave Alara a gentle nod. “We’ll cut our lesson short today. You’ll learn more about faith from the world than from a book.” He turned to Rasa, his tone taking on a hint of authority. “We’ll be waiting in front of the temple at sunset. Make sure she’s there. The king doesn’t care to be kept waiting.”
Rasa nodded, and together, she and Alara made their way down the corridor to the living quarters.
The water temple of Aedre was an intricate network of rivers, fountains, and aqueducts—a maze to anyone unfamiliar with its layout. Stone bridges and hidden switches controlled the water flow, turning it off and on, creating an ever-changing path through the temple. It had been designed that way by Alara’s great-aunt, the former High Priestess, who had insisted that the Goddess demanded it for the safety of her worshippers. One of the first things new acolytes learned was navigating its twisting paths.
As Alara and Rasa walked, they passed through stone hallways, crossing narrow bridges and ducking under archways until they reached a large chamber filled with water. Rasa moved a stone statue onto a pressure plate, triggering the draining mechanism. As they waited for the water to recede, Rasa glanced at Alara, breaking the silence between them.
“Are you looking forward to tonight’s banquet?” Rasa asked, her voice gentle.
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Alara sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “It’s just another night of political pretense,” she replied, her voice subdued. She leaned against a statue, her arms crossing over her chest, her eyes fixed on the water as it swirled away.
“Not excited to see your family?” Rasa asked, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Your father? Your brother?”
Alara shook her head slowly. “No,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She turned to Rasa, her eyes softening. “You’re more of a sister to me than they are family.”
Rasa fell quiet, letting Alara’s words settle between them. She understood—perhaps better than anyone—what it meant to feel out of place, even among those who were supposed to love you. As the water finally drained, revealing a set of stairs that led downward, Rasa reached out, her fingers brushing Alara’s. She squeezed her hand gently, a silent reassurance.
Alara looked at her, a smile finally reaching her eyes. Together, they stepped down the newly revealed stairs, crossing the chamber and climbing the opposite side, their hands still entwined.
Alara’s chambers greeted them with the familiar scent of jasmine. Not wanting to waste any time, Rasa quickly sat Alara down at her vanity and began to untie the single braid containing Alara’s strawberry blonde hair, allowing it to fall around her shoulders in soft waves. She took silver trinkets and chains on the table’s surface and began to clip and weave them into her hair until her entire head was full of the reflecting light from the setting sun.
This was a familiar ritual for them. These banquet meetings between the temple officials and the monarchy happened every three months or so when enough of the monarchy’s issues piled up, and the king requested the advice of the temple to solve them. It was a multigenerational tradition, and not long after Rasa had been accepted by the temple as an acolyte, they assigned her to Alara’s side to do these kinds of menial tasks. At first, she didn’t care for it. She felt the temple officials had exploited her situation to turn her into a princess’s servant girl. But as she learned and came to love the Goddess, she saw the opportunity and privilege it was to be the Goddess’s Speaker’s right hand. One day, when this girl finally understood her place in this world, she could ask Aedre herself to help her find out what happened to her mother. And she knew Alara, as close as they had become, would do whatever it took to see it through.
After she had finished Alara’s hair, she kneeled down slightly and smiled at Alara through the mirror. “Don’t you think you look beautiful?”
Alara smiled back politely, still somewhat lost in thought. “You did a good job as always, Rasa.”
Rasa returned her smile and turned to the wardrobe. She shuffled through the multiple beautiful gowns, all themed in blue and silver until she found one that best matched the hairstyle she had given her. Alara stood up and began to undress from her white and blue acolyte robes, then allowed Rasa to help her put on her chosen gown. Rasa tied and closed all the tassels and clasps, then turned her around to look at her. She adjusted a few things that she felt looked out of place, and then when Rasa was satisfied, she pulled out a necklace and a tiara she thought matched the dress best, sitting her back at the vanity to finish the look. She placed some light makeup on her cheeks. After she placed them in the way she felt was perfect, Alara looked up at her in the mirror. “You should come with me tonight,” she said softly.
Rasa blinked back at her, surprised. “What? No, I couldn’t. It’s only for the temple officials. I’d have no place there.”
Alara stood, her mood suddenly lifted in excitement. “You belong there more than I do, Rasa. You do more for this temple than most people realize. Please. I insist upon it.”
Rasa’s eyes softened at the compliment. “I’m not sure.”
Alara shook her head. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Sit, and let me do for you what you’ve always done for me.”
Without waiting for her response, she sat Rasa down at the vanity she had sat at only moments ago. Alara knew she could not replicate the braids Rasa did so beautifully herself, so instead of untying each braid, she unbound them from the band she used to keep them secure and began wrapping golden ribbons along each one. Rasa quickly interjected, “I thought silver and blue were the colors of the temple?”
Alara shook her head. “It’s the colors of the priesthood. Gold and blue are the colors of the monarchy, so you won’t look out of place. Many of the nobles will be wearing this anyway. Besides, you look better in gold.”
Rasa relaxed at her response but still felt uncomfortable. She watched as Alara pinned sapphires to the ribbons and placed a golden necklace around her neck. Alara stepped aside and looked through her wardrobe, this time searching for a gown without silver or silver accents she could remove. When she was satisfied with one, she had Rasa stand to help her dress.
“I don’t feel safe,” Rasa said as Alara began to remove the armor she wore almost constantly.
Alara looked up at her face, realizing there was a reason Rasa never took off her armor. “Oh! In that case,” she said. She looked over the design of Rasa’s armor, noticing that the shoulder pads and chest pieces were not only removable but could fit over the dress. “Let’s layer these on top,” she said, tying them across her. Rasa nodded, satisfied with the solution.
After she had finished dressing, Alara sat down Rasa one last time at the vanity and began to do her makeup. Rasa closed her eyes for most of it, worried about what it would look like since she never wore makeup. When she opened her eyes, she did not recognize herself at all. Her mother’s smile and her father’s playful laugh flashed across her mind as he dabbed lipstick on her as a child. The image faded as quickly as it had arrived, leaving her to stare at a stranger in her reflection.
“See? You look beautiful,” Alara whispered in her ear. Rasa looked in the mirror at their reflection and felt they were almost unrecognizable—two young women dressed as though they belonged in the world of nobles and royalty.
Rasa suddenly saw that the sun was almost gone in the window behind her in the reflection. She jumped up quickly and pulled Alara’s arm. “Hurry! We’re going to be late.”
Alara giggled and ran with her down the temple halls, happy that she would finally not be going alone.