Page 34 of The Gilded Ones

I extend my hand, my heart lodged in my throat. “Bloodsisters?” I ask, a thousand thoughts barraging my mind. What if I’m asking for too much? What if they turn away, scorn me the way everyone in the village did, what if they—

A soft hand settles over mine. “Bloodsisters,” Britta declares when I look up, startled. She grins. “Now and for ever, but ye already knew that, Deka.”

As I nod, relieved, Katya leans forward as well. “Bloodsisters,” she whispers. “I know we just met, but if you’re going to join together, I want to be a part of it.”

I nod, returning her anxious smile.

It’s the twins’ turn, and for once, they seem almost serious as they look at each other and shrug. “Might as well,” they say to each other, placing their hands over ours. “Bloodsisters,” they declare together, smiling at me.

Warmth spreads over me, a glow of happiness. They’re actually saying yes – all of them. As I grin, another hand settles unexpectedly on mine. Belcalis’s.

“Bloodsisters,” she says, mouth tight as the others smile and embrace her.

Just like that, we’re bonded.

Bloodsisters.

Happiness sparking inside me, I pick up a handful of rice and begin eating, careful to pick around the chicken bits. I have to build up my strength. Survival is hard work, after all. And so will be finding the truth about Mother’s past.

It starts with a sea of unwavering black, ancient yet familiar. I’m floating inside it, warm, motionless. Voices, female and powerful. They call out to me. “Deka…” they whisper.

One of them almost sounds like Mother.

I turn towards the voices, not at all startled to find a golden light shimmering in the distance. A door, waiting for me to open it. As I swim over, weightless in this vast sea, I hear something else—

“Raise your lazy arses, neophytes!”

I gasp awake, blinking in the darkness, as two novices rush into the common bedroom, shoving girls off their beds if they move too slowly. There are more novices in the hallway, their shouts timed by the frantic beating of nearby drums.

“Wha—huh, wha—?” Britta snuffles, jerking upright.

“We have to get ready,” I say, almost wrenching her out of bed. The novices have positioned themselves just in front of the doorway. One of them is the scarred girl from last night, the other a plump, almost cherubic-looking brown girl with dark, loosely curled hair. Both are wearing dark blue robes – a uniform, just like the green ones we were given yesterday.

“Morning greetings, neophytes,” the scarred girl barks.

“Morning greetings.” My reply is as uncertain as the other girls’ when we gather around her.

She takes a step forward. “I am Gazal, your honoured elder bloodsister. You will refer to me as Honoured Elder Bloodsister Gazal, or Honoured Senior Bloodsister. All other forms of address will not be tolerated.”

The air immediately thickens, tension rising until the plump girl steps forward. Compared to Gazal, she’s warmth and sunshine personified as she grins at us. “I am Jeneba, your honoured elder bloodsister,” she says cheerfully. “I hope in time we will become friends.”

My tension begins to ease. Jeneba seems like one of those happy people who get along with everybody.

I barely have time to nod back at her before it’s Gazal’s turn to speak again. “Jeneba and I have been tasked with overseeing this common bedroom,” she explains. “Together, we’ll lead you through your first week at the Warthu Bera and, in time, your entire tenure in this training ground… That is, if you survive it.”

As a tense silence falls, all the neophytes glancing at each other uneasily, Jeneba steps forward and claps her hands for attention. “All right, neophytes, you have fifteen minutes to clean yourselves. Go! Go! Go!”

Her words are like a lightning bolt, sending girls rushing towards the cleaning chamber as fast as they can. I hurry along, not wanting to get left behind, but when I catch sight of the chamber’s polished bronze mirrors and ten stone sinks with water jugs and other bathing supplies carefully laid out on them, I slow, awed. In Irfut, the only sink I ever saw was the one in the temple, and that was reserved for men. I stop in front of one, gasping when I see my hair has already grown back into a fluffy little cloud. It’s the same with all the other neophytes, but I’m only noticing now because I’m not as disoriented as I was when I woke. This must be an effect of alaki healing. Finally, a benefit to being impure.

“Fourteen minutes,” Jeneba calls out.

I jolt back into action, wiping my face with the cloth and water. When I’m done, I glance at the small stick of wood beside my water jug, perplexed.

“Wha is that?” Britta whispers, voicing the question that’s on the tip of my tongue.

“Chewing stick,” Belcalis answers, using hers to scrub her teeth.

I hurriedly do the same, gasping when an icy-cool flavour explodes in my mouth. No wonder Hemairans prefer these to the cloths we use in Irfut to scrub our mouths clean. Once I’m finished, I scramble to put on my green robes and leather sandals, and by the time the drums sound again, I’m dressed and ready to follow Jeneba to the courtyard.

---