“What was that?” Lyra asks, the fire illuminating the look of shock she still wears, its reflection on her eyes making them look golden instead of hazel.
“The Goddess, my dear,” Siobhan replies with a happy sigh. “The glow was a sign an initiate was truly ready to begin her training. After living in the temple for a few years, at a reasonable age, she could go through the rites.” Lyra’s face is alight with excitement at Siobhan’s words, listening raptly and the golden woman smiles as she continues, “Then she honed the skills she was most adept at, was taught general knowledge, and would train in the ability to wield the glow.”
Siobhan’s eyes swing to me at that. “It has been so, so long since I felt Her… truly felt Her. Thank you, Andromeda, for doing this, for reminding us all of our power.” Her gaze doesn’t settle on only Lyra and me, but also on the female members of the crew and the women who have drifted over from other fires to observe.
“I don’t think I had anything to do with it,” I reply, even though I admit it has been years for me as well. “It was the three of us together.”
Memories of ceremonies in the temple flood my mind, feeling this power amplified so much more when we were all together. During Queen Adelaide’s rule, and the rule of the queens who preceded her, the priestesses of the Goddess were not merely instruments of religious dogma — they trained and honed their divine feminine energy to channel magic gifted from the Goddess herself. Rarely was that magic used for sinister purposes — priestesses mainly accessed it to heal, promote growth, or for divination. But the most powerful, usually high priestesses, could use it for defensive purposes. However, all but the strongest of the high priestesses needed support from her sisters to access her maximum power.
All those years ago, I had been an initiate headed for a high priestess ranking. Before my mind can go down the memories of everything that stopped that path for me, Lyra’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
“I remember Mother talking about my granny having special powers, but I don’t remember seeing her actually glow.” Lyra still looks awestruck as she inspects her hands.
“That would make sense since your grandmother was a priestess. You and your mother could likely have joined her to boost her power if history had gone differently,” Siobhan says sadly, touching the girl on the shoulder gently.
My eyes snap up when I comprehend her words — Lennox told me his mother was a believer, not that she was a priestess. My lips part to comment, but Siobhan continues.
“Although the divine feminine energy was accessible to all, it has always been more powerful in females, especially within a family,” Siobhan’s voice takes on the tone of the many tutors of my past. “The power that a group of uninitiated women could command was minimal compared to the might a group of priestesses used to wield. But it still would have been fearsome for a village to have that much power residing in it.”
Her words ring true, and bitterness for our plight fills my soul. That bitterness seeps into my words as I add, “The King knew exactly what he was doing when he ruined our temples and murdered our sisters, scattering us to the winds. Without each other, we are lessened. We can still heal, or divine, or worship on our own. But together, whether in ceremony or in action, we are stronger. We have power inside of each of us, but it is magnified when we work in conjunction.”
Siobhan nods sadly, and the two continue to converse in quiet tones, speaking over plans for the future. But I am weighed down by my past.
The raucous laughter and merriment around me fades as I remember the horror that the soldiers inflicted when they invaded our temple. Standing with my bare feet in the soft white sand of Delosia, not overwhelmed with anxiety over a need to flee or cower in fear for the first time in years, is the first time I can fully acknowledge Blackwell’s true sin against us. When he murdered my aunt and stole her throne, he dismantled centuries of work women in our country had done. He destroyed the religion that worshiped women as healers, mothers, caregivers, warriors, and scholars. He deemed us sinful for utilizing our sexual energies, whether as an act of love or in ceremony. He declared that we were only worthy if we were married and producing heirs for our husbands, or else earning money on our backs to pay sin taxes to his coffers.
I wonder if Blackwell and those who follow the new religion are even true believers of this new God, or if they merely see it as a source of manipulative power and controlling fear. The hatred and rage that has numbed me for the past eight years blazes within my soul, burning in my chest as hot as the bonfire that kisses my cheeks with its heat.
“Andromeda? Are you well?” Lennox joins me, interrupting my contemplation. The worry written on his face tells me this may not have been the first time he’s attempted to pull me from my thoughts.
I shake myself and nod. “I’m fine.”
“Would you like to go back to the boarding house?” Concern furrows his brow as he studies my face in the firelight. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“No, I am sure. I’m fine. Thank you.”
“That was spectacular,” he confides, “I haven’t seen the glow in such a long time. Not since Celeste was still a maiden frolicking with mother.”
“You didn’t tell me your mother was a priestess. Why would you lie?” I murmur.
With a small smile, he cuts his eyes to me. “It was more of an omission. By the time Celeste and I came along, she was only a believer, not a priestess any longer. She left her temple to wed my father. I’ll tell you the tale sometime.”
The course of the evening has left me too overwhelmed to be upset with him over a technicality — I wasn’t forthcoming about my past or family, either. For the remainder of the night, I remain unmoored and unfocused, intoxicated with the feeling of the Goddess’ touch on my skin and the emotions swirling under my flesh.
The breeze is cool and salty on my flushed cheeks, mixing with the smell of the burning wood in the fire and the scent of the strong alcohol that’s passed around. Siobhan informs me of a room for let above her shop before she is swept off her feet into Erik’s arms again, and both the thought of the room and their love bring a small smile to my face, easing some of the tension that rode me so hard earlier. He kisses her deeply for all to see before they head into the darkness outside the line of the fire’s glow. Tonight, they will share other energy besides that gifted by the moonlight.
Lyra laughs with some of the crew, and, as always, she impresses me with her ability to blend in with any group she is faced with. Lennox hovers near me where I sit in the sand, always within earshot, but I cannot bring myself to enjoy the celebratory atmosphere.
Before the ceremony, I felt like a lovesick creature worried over saying goodbye, but now I am reminded of what I truly am — a wrathful beast hidden in the attire of a priestess. My skin feels too tight, and I cannot relinquish my worries long enough to relish in the company of my friends.
Lennox’s warm, rough palm slips into my hand as I gaze at the depths of the fire. “Let’s go back. You don’t look well,” he whispers to me, pulling me to my feet. The fire glints off the chain trailing between my breasts as well as the shimmering powder dusting my décolletage and shoulders when I look down at myself.
“All right,” I whisper back, and we turn toward the pathway back to town. “Should we retrieve Lyra?”
“No, she will be fine. No one in this town will hurt Marie’s granddaughter or my niece, but even if she weren’t our relative, they all love her. She is well-guarded.” He points to the group where Lyra stands to show me that Pike is guarding her, the older man as watchful as if she were his own blood, while she talks with the other men and women.
Chapter 33
We stroll in silence through the streets, noise drifting from one of the alleys, drawing my eye to the familiar sounds of pleasure.