Page 67 of Fire in Stone

“Drink it or don’t. Either way, we’ll do what we have to do,” she said quickly.

“It’ll just hurt more if you fight it,”my mind added for her.

“We’re wasting time.” Isar grabbed the vial from me. “Sunset would be here before we get a chance to finish.”

Gripping the hair on the back of my head, she tilted my head back. I cried out, trying to protest, but she quickly tipped the vial, dumping its contents into my open mouth. I sputtered and coughed as the fragrant liquid slid down my throat.

Isar tossed the vial away, and it rolled on the floor with the clinking sound of the crystal hitting rock. “Let’s do this.”

Panic shot through me. Panic and indignity as they tore my clothes off, spread my legs apart, and slathered warm, stinking tar all over my arms, legs, and intimate places.

“Every single hair of that color,”Mother had said. And they took her words literally.

Once the tar hardened a little, they ripped it off my body, along with the hair, including that on my head.

I screamed. Whatever that magical potion was that they had forced me to swallow, it didn’t seem to affect a thing. I didn’t care any less about what was happening to me. I felt violated, indignant, and hurt. I screamed and fought their hands off me, no matter how strong those hands were and how futile my protests turned out to be.

Finally, all patches of tar had been ripped off me. Some of my body hair was too short, as I’d shaved just a few days earlier, but somehow, they got them all anyway. My skin hurt as if set on fire. Tears streamed down my face.

“Done,” Zenada exhaled. Her face was flushed. Strands of her thick, black hair had loosened from her braid and were now standing wildly around her head.

The other two women didn’t look much better. There was a scratch under Isar’s eye and a rip on the neckline of Ertee’s dress. They looked winded, like they had just given a bath to a cat.

I might not be much stronger than a cat compared to them, but seeing the results of my resistance gave me some satisfaction. They might have won, but I’d made them work for it.

“Did it hurt?” Ertee asked with concern.

“Like a son of a bitch,” I gritted my teeth. “It still does. Damn you.”

I straightened my legs, lowering them onto the quilted blankets that the rock was covered with. The movement tugged at my skin, making me wince in a wave of fiery pain.

Zenada gently touched my arm. “It’s hot.”

“She can’t regulate her temperature,” Ertee reminded her. “I’ll bring some ice. Would that help?” she asked me.

“It couldn’t be any worse.” I shrugged, and she hurried out of the hall.

Isar touched Elex’s ring on my finger. “Camytedidn’t work.”

“No kidding.” I swallowed a groan.

The pain burned through my entire body, it seemed. But I was glad the waxing from hell was finished. The burning was far less intense than the sharp pain of ripping my hair out with the root.

“Your ring must have protection wards against spells and the effects of magic food. You should’ve removed it before we started.”

“Now you’re telling me.” As soon as she mentioned it, I recalled Elex saying something about the wards, too, but I couldn’t remember his exact words. Back then, I had no reason to memorize them. I didn’t know I would actually get a chance to test the ring’s magical qualities. Not in a million years would I have thought I’d end up here…

I sighed and thumbed the hard, carved surface of the rock of the ring. Its weight on my finger had become familiar by now and oddly comforting.

“Well, it’s too late now. What’s done is done.” Isar collected the bucket filled with the pieces of hardened tar and all my hair trapped in it, then left the room.

Zenada brought another blanket. Holding it in her arms, she sat on a flat rock nearby. There were a few dozen similar long slabs, arranged seemingly haphazardly around the statue of the woman on a dais.

“What are these rocks for?” I asked Zenada. The pain had subdued somewhat, allowing my curiosity to come forward. “They look like an altar except that there are too many of them for that.”

“These are our perches. This is where we spend the night. We also sit on them during Mother’s teachings,” Zenada replied.

“Is she like… your spiritual Mother, or are you all related to her?” They didn’t look like a family, but their form of address for the woman had me confused.

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