Nania POV
Even when I was very young, I had thought many things about Elian. I had thought him kind and clever, funny, ambitious, and a great listener. The type of person who always knew exactly what to say. Brimming with warmth, something I found to be rather lacking in my life before I met him.
As we grew older together, however, a number of his flaws grew more and more obvious. Neither he nor Talon were as smart as they thought they were, as much as I admired them both. At least I knew my limits—or knew I had limits. Those two were convinced Crown Naruune herself whispered the future in their ears.
Why else would that idiot insist on staying king, even after being poisoned? He’d always said his goal was to be a protector and guardian, to help people. And of course, the King was in theory the most powerful person in Gresha City. But in practice, this was perhaps the worst position for Elian to be in, and for so many reasons. When I was younger, I thought nothing could be worse than the kindest person I knew being out on the battlefield, that perhaps one day he would never come home. Two days into his kingship and I had learned so much better.
And worst of all was, a part of me was even upset. He had taken up this position to free Talon and myself, hadn’t he? The power did not appeal to him at all, I thought, only what he could use it for. But now he seemed to want to avoid us.
So was I wrong? Did he now betray us, not wishing to leave? Had I misjudged him? If I hadn’t, was I the one in the wrong, to be so upset he wouldn’t leave with us?
There was something about this whole situation that I was missing. That much was obvious. He’d been frustratingly opaque about why Talon had left, and how he’d actually become King. The idea of a third Crown was shocking, but not fully unheard of--some stories told of how the Sun Fiend and Sun Falcon came from beyond the stars. A third could have followed them. But surely, a third Crown wouldn’t just be here to serve as patron for Elian. But perhaps her presence explained Elian’s determination to remain as king, if he too believed he was at the center of something special.
Perhaps it made me selfish, but I wasn’t so enthused about whatever big thing was about to occur. If I could find any more information on what was happening, I needed it. The problem, of course, being, that even if anyone knew anything about a third Crown, none would tell me.
Things had been very different, ever since my release from house arrest. The other Priestess Candidates, not to mention the Priestesses and servants, looked at me strangely now. Before they had only looked straight through me, or looked upon me with disdain. Now there was a new emotion in their eyes—I had to wonder, were they afraid of me? The thought caused my chest to tingle strangely.
Only weeks before, I might not have disliked this emotion. Now it was only making things more difficult for me. No one would talk to me. I tried to console myself, admitting that at best they’d only have ridiculous gossip, and not anything actually helpful. But the lack of knowledge, the lack of control, remained frustrating.
After spending a morning trying to understand what was going on, and only getting anything useful from the healers, I chose to take a rest in one of the empty dormitories. After a few days of house arrest it felt strange to be back in one. So much had changed, and however this played out, I was becoming more and more certain that I never wanted to return, if I could help it. This place held few good memories for me, as I perched in the window, wondering if I should flee to one of my secret spots on the roof. With no one to help me sort through my thoughts, perhaps the air outside would help me clear my head.
Then a throat cleared behind me, and I nearly fell from the window.
I twisted around in the sill instead, to see who had joined me. I was met with a girl who looked at me a little strangely, compared to the others—she seemed to lack any fear at all in her doe-brown eyes. Instead there lived some other emotion: ambition, which sent a flutter of familiar anxiety through my hollow bones.
“What do you want,” I snapped before she even said anything. Then my mind caught up with my mouth. It wasn’t just the emotion that was familiar—did I recognize this girl, too? Of course, all us Priestess Candidates had grown up and been taught together, so all of us had at least seen each other, but I thought I remembered this girl. Of course, never before had she approached me so boldly, not without her leader. That wasn’t how those girls usually operated; they always clumped up in a swarm, toddling after Dennia, to the point my mind only remembered them as ‘Dennia’ and ‘the others’.
This girl I could not remember the name of smiled widely, holding up both hands in a pacifying gesture. Clutched within one was a broomstick. “So good to see you again, Nania, I feel like we hardly ever talk,” she said, in a lower-class drawl. Elian had a similar accent, but hers felt more like an act she was putting on. “ ‘Course, it’s probably just ‘cause things have changed so much round here, so it’s real nice to catch up—”
“We’re not friends,” I said. What was it she wanted? To taunt me somehow, to target my friend?
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” she laughed, “I came ‘cause I have some chores to finish before I eat, and chores always go faster with a friend. Gosh, it gets so boring doing things alone—’course, you must know better’n anyone, I’m always seeing you all alone—”
“We are not friends, S—” I squinted at her, her name on the tip of my tongue. “Sar…ya…?”
She smiled, confirming my guess. “So you do remember me.” She was pleasantly rounded and plump with lovely, wavy dark hair and a smattering of freckles, far fewer than I had. Her skin wasn’t as blotchy as mine either, though it was nowhere near as smooth as Dennia’s.
Sarya kept prattling on, no longer even pretending to sweep the floors. “I tried talkin’ to you before, but it was hard to tell if you were really listening. Guess you were, if you remembered my name, which is good, I was hopin’ we could be friends—”
Of course I remembered this girl. She was one of Dennia’s lackeys. Airheaded and constantly gossiping about one thing or the other. Despite looking about quickly, Denia seemed to be nowhere nearby—what were they planning?
“Where is she?”
“Where’s who?” asked Sarya, blinking owlishly.
I scowled. “You know who. Dennia.”
“Wh—”
“I know she pushed me out of a window, and poisoned Ellie,” I snapped. I did not actually know either, only guessed at both. But from how Sarya’s face suddenly grew pallid and her pupils shrank, I knew I had guessed something correctly. And so I loomed over her, heart pounding. “Well? You may have gotten away with bullying a Priestess-Candidate, but do you think you can get away with trying to kill the Crown-son?”
“I—wait, I’m not—” Something fluttered in my chest as I saw the fear flitting across Sarya’s face. “I didn’t do any of that.”
“Perhaps not personally. But Dennia did, didn’t she? Where is she?”
“Mm, can’t say, she’s been avoiding me—everyone, really,” said Sarya. “I really didn’t know she was the one that poisoned the king—is that true?”
My cheeks burned—had I said too much, gotten carried away? Quickly I stepped back, but then I wondered if I was showing too much weakness now. Who was to say Sarya wasn’t lying about this? “Either her or Forya,” I said quickly. “Who else could it be?”
“Oh, that’s mighty exciting,” Sarya purred, any trace of fear swept beneath a strange smile. “You know, a couple people have even been sayin’ it was you, that done it.”
“Why would I poison Ellie!?” I snarled.
“That, they’re all disagreeing over. Most of ‘em seem to think there’s some kind of epic love ballad in the works—the Priestess torn between an Angran, the ex-Crown-son, and—Ellie, was it?” she smirked. “Maybe there’s some truth there after a—wait, gosh, sorry, please don’t jump out the window!”
My fingers ached from how tightly I gripped the window sill. Still, I did as asked and relaxed my body again, even as I glared at Sarya more intensely. “You shouldn’t assume things from empty-headed gossip, you know.”
“Oh, I know a lot of it’s just wrong, but that doesn’t mean all of it is,” Sarya laughed. “But if you ignore gossip altogether—well, that’s the really foolish thing to do.”
“What? That makes no sense, it’s just—it’s just meaningless chatter.”
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“Is that why you always avoided hanging out with us? Thought you were too good for us?”
“I avoided you all because you were cruel to me.”
“I wasn’t, I tried to talk to you,” Sarya said, actually sounding a little disappointed. “You were just always running away.”
“Running from the person who spends all her time spreading nasty rumors about me? How surprising,” I spat. “All you Priestesses are hypocrites, you know. I’ve never wanted this role.”
Sarya’s frown only deepened. “You seem perfectly content in the role when the boy half the city thinks your true lover is sat upon the throne. And that’s to say nothing about your relationship with Lordri—”
“Do not assume about my ‘relationship’ with Lordrin! I did what I had to do.”
“I didn’t—I only meant—”
“You think you know everything. What was it you all think I used, Hell Magic?” Again I approached her, glaring. “I—I killed someone, you know. In the raid.”
However, Sarya did not look especially intimidated, not this time. “I know,” she said softly, almost gently. “You’re—you’re right, you don’t do well in the role of Priestess. Seems I was wrong this time. Sorry, bye.” She turned away, now focusing on her sweeping.
“Wh—h-hey!” Despite her efforts to flee, I followed her, struggling to stifle my stutter and bring back my rage. “Wait, I mean—get back here!” Despite her earlier prattle, she seemed to be ignoring me now, bustling out of the room. Despite that, I tromped down a hall after her. “Hey!”
With a sigh, she gave a curt response: “You didn’t want to talk to me before. What’s changed now?”
“I—wh—what the Hell does that mean? That I don’t do well in the role?” I asked.
“You’re thinking of becoming the new Head Priestess, right? You’re doing it ‘cause you love—well, care deeply for—the new Crown-son, and ‘cause you both care for that Angran guy?” Sarya asked.
I quickly covered my mouth with a hand. “What about it?”
Sarya sighed, and began to speak. “Everyone can tell you hate it here, Nia. You aren’t that subtle. Whatever you think about Dennia, she would make a better Head Priestess and partner for your King—”
My hand dropped from my face. “I was right. You really don’t know anything. Nothing about me, nothing about Lordrin or Talon or Elian. You’re just her lackey after all.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You said you’d listen to me—”
“And now I know what you have to say,” I said, turning on my heel to leave.
----------------------------------------
The Priestesses and Candidates of the temple were hypocrites, all of them. No one had ever asked me if I had wanted to become a Priestess. Even if Talon and Elian had not exactly chosen their own paths either, at least they had thrown themselves into fighting and sparring. I had simply been foisted upon the temple, at an age so young I couldn’t even remember my parents. Every year since, my drive to become a Priestess and my loyalty to my city was interrogated and questioned. But why would I want to become a Priestess and serve such a place that forced me into this position, and then judged me for a lack of enthusiasm? Before I met Elian I had been depressed, listless, torn between the idea of running away to find my parents, and of resenting them for abandoning me here.
But even now, when I finally find a reason to want to be a Priestess, it isn’t enough for them. What more could they possibly demand of me?
I was the smart one, the one who’d been given an education, the one who knew I was a mere Priestess, a mere girl, not a trained soldier. But a tide of anger came over me. Why should Dennia and Forya be allowed to commit such atrocities, simply because they stuck to the shadows? How should Sarya be allowed to spread such slander, because it was insubstantial words? Why should I have to play by the rules, respect honor and tradition, when it had only been used to hurt us?
A Crown had appeared to Elian, and shattered tradition. If I was to become the next Head Priestess, I would allow no immaterial law or mind game to stand in my way. I’d be like Talon and Elian, the Talon and Elian I’d made friends with admired, and simply take what I desired. First Forya, then Dennia, then Lordrin.
Head Priestess Forya was not difficult to find. Her subterfuge was almost impressive, for how much time she had to spend in the public eye, but then I supposed that was how she had become Head Priestess. In the short time since Elian’s coronation, however furiously my friend had been working, she seemed just as determined to cling to her own power, enforcing it on those around her as she snapped orders. Was it nerves, or simple posturing?
Regardless. Once I did track her down, I found we had an audience. All the better—this would really give the fools something to gossip about. I raised my voice over theirs.
“Head Priestess Forya!” I declared. A dozen or so eyes immediately snapped to me, faces an assortment of imperious glee and offended shock. On the other side of the room, Forya’s bright green eyes locked with my own, her own expression cool and unreadable. “I challenge you for the role of Head Priestess.”
She made no reaction, aside from a slight sniff. “There is no precedent to earn the place of Head Priestess through a challenge.”
“There’s no precedent for the existence of a third Crown, either,” I returned, stalking down the room. “Times are changing.”
“Even so, a Priestess’ role is different from the role of Crown-son,” said Forya. “We are not soldiers or kings. We are spiritual leaders, emissaries to the Crowns, comfort to the people and wisdom to the King. There is a reason that, while the King only requires the approval of the Gods and people, the Head Priestess and Head of the Army need far more—”
“That’s not true. There has been precedent of a King promoting his own preferred Head Priestess before.”
“The stories may claim one thing about these occurrences, but the histories say another.” The onlookers’ heads snapped back and forth between us two as we debated. Now they looked to the ever-calm Forya. “Those Priestesses chosen for love were not always successful, only the ones who understood discipline went on to be Head Priestesses worthy of respect and remembrance.”
“Was it not a Priestess’ duty to love her King as she does a husband?” I snapped back, sarcastically.
“A Priestess, not the Head Priestess,” replied Forya.
“You are all hypocrites. You told me once that Priestesses were soldiers—which am I meant to be then, doting wife or loyal soldier?” I finished closing the distance between myself and Forya. “One thing seems clear to me. You are neither, not to Elian. There is a new Crown, a new kind of King—is it not time for a new sort of Priestess as well? I challenge you to become Head Priestess!”
I assumed a fighting stance, one of those Talon had taught me while training me in the Flame Arts. The last time I had displayed the Flame Arts for Greshan onlookers was during the previous Harvest Festival. Then, to alleviate my nerves, I had pretended to be fighting Head Priestess Forya, taking out my frustrations on an imaginary construct.
Not long ago, I had been so prone to anxiety and fear. Now things fluttered in my chest, but I felt no fear—I felt adrenaline.
“The Crown-sons compete for the love of our deities. Why do we Priestesses not do the same? Or do you fear that a Crown won’t favor you, just as your son lost favor?” I asked.
Subtly Forya’s eyes flicked across the onlookers.
“This is ridiculous,” she said cautiously, “but I will accept. While Lordrin was an admirable Crown-son, he was prone to rebelliousness, and to rejecting the wisdom of his elders when the mood seized him. I have served Crown Naruune humbly for many a decade. And so, I will show you the power of an experienced Head Priestess. This will be a challenge of channeling our respective goddesses, as it is with the Crown-sons.” She raised her head, shaking out her silver-streaked hair. “Let it be known that I am no coward,” she hissed.
“Good. Neither am I. And so I shall take the opportunity to go first,” I said, shaking out my wrists.
Forya inclined her head in a slight nod. By now, our audience had expanded, more people gathering to watch the proceedings, priestesses, scribes, and servants both. For a moment, I even thought I glimpsed Sarya in the crowd. Then the mass shifted and she disappeared once more.
“And what shall you require for your channeling arts, Priestess Candidate?” asked Forya.
“Nothing more than I already have here,” I replied, now rubbing up and down my arms. As I did, I considered what she had said. I would be channeling Elian’s ‘Crown Ruuthelaine,’ would I?
In all honesty, I knew absolutely nothing about a ‘Crown Ruuthelaine’. So far as I knew, only two Crowns existed—the Gestalt Earth Goddess Naruune and the God of Sun and Justice, Arcturus. Ruuthelaine must be a life-bringer like them, certainly, but unlike Forya I had never even lain eyes on her, nor did I understand for what purpose she was supporting my friend.
Still, when trying to rescue Talon from the temple, I’d decided I’d even accept power from the Sun Fiend, if that was necessary to protect my friends, my loved ones. Why should I refuse to give this ‘Crown Ruuthelaine’ that sort of trust? Perhaps she was the strange source of power I kept drawing from, and therefore not a stranger at all. Perhaps I already owed her a great debt.
As I thought, I began to move, roiling anger flowing into physical heat as I made a connection to something divine. Not quite the same as that vast and warm thing which granted me the state of synchronicity with a god, but different than it felt channeling Crown Naruune. Hotter, faster—something that seemed to suit the stances of Flame Arts perfectly. Had a goddess taught the Angrans their martial arts after all? I wondered.
Again, Greshan eyes watched me as I fought with no partner. Slow punches and kicks, steadily speeding up as I twisted, almost danced. My heart raced, as I turned towards Forya. I knew what I had said, but I was still angry with her, that she could do as she did and still be excused.
The truth was, I’d never expected this ‘challenge’ to work. It did not matter whether I became Head Priestess or not, I needed this woman and Dennia punished.
My knee came up, smashing into Forya’s nose with a loud crack. The older woman shrieked, stumbling backwards and falling in a pile of gangly limbs. My glare swept out across the gaggle of onlookers, now uniformly shocked and horrified.
“Hear my words,” I declared. “See exactly how powerful this woman who lords ‘power’ over all really is, see how easily she’s capable of backing up her decrees—ack!”
The guards who had come to watch had finally begun to act, seizing my arms far tighter than was entirely necessary.