I crossed my legs and tried to push my chest out, but it was not the most comfortable position. I considered lying down on one side while propping myself up on a forearm, but that didn’t feel right, either. Upright and stiff-backed, like a queen? Leaning back on my elbows, all come-hither-like? Should I tug the garment down to expose a shoulder? All I had to go by were the raunchy covers of my romances, and it occurred to me now how extremely uncomfortable all those women had to be to pose for those paintings.
A knock sounded and I scrambled for position, pushing the cloth down to let a collarbone show. The door opened and Lan peered warily in. She didn’t look as angry as she had the night before. She hadn’t quit, either. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
“Good morning, Your Holiness. The rain’s let up. I’ll let the others know—” She paused, staring at me. Her face was expressionless. Did she like what she saw? Or was the come-hithering not working?
“Is your leg bothering you?” she finally asked.
“No-o-o.” I swung both feet to the side of the bed, beet red. Miss Merrilyn from Capturing the Prince made it look so easy. “I’m okay! It was a—there’s nothing wrong with my—I’m okay!”
“Your mother’s waiting. The Devoted have gathered, and I don’t think we should prolong this any more than necessary. It’s not good weather to stay out in.”
It was never good weather to stay out in for me. “Lan. I . . .”
“Yes?”
Tell her. Tell her. Tell her.
“I’m ready,” I whispered.
“Good. Best not to keep your mother waiting, Your Holiness.”
I rearranged my skirts and hopped out of bed. If she’d noticed that I was wearing flower pins in my hair, or a goodly amount of rouge on my cheeks despite my limited supply, she made no comment. I felt quietly disappointed as I followed her out of the room.
As always, Mother was the epitome of elegance, in a serene white dress with no adornments. I felt overdressed standing beside her. “You’re looking very lovely this nightspan,” she pronounced, beaming. “Isn’t she, Tianlan?”
Lan shrugged. I saw the faint dark circles, the slight redness in her gold-and-silver eyes. She didn’t look like she’d slept at all, and I felt ashamed of my selfishness, horrified I hadn’t seen it sooner. Was there something they weren’t telling me? “The water’s rising fast, Asteria,” she said. “Janella thinks the floods will come within the next three hours.”
Mother smiled. “This is your first time witnessing the Banishing this close, isn’t it? Just follow our lead; Odessa is quite good at it.”
We performed the Banishing whenever necessary, which used to be once a year, twice if needed. Now we do it every three months. Aranth was built atop the only strip of land under habitable weather, close to bordering the large ocean that extended eastward into nowhere. But both water and ice were encroaching on our small patch of territory, clamoring to break through our frozen dyke.
I was not averse to performing the Banishing. Knowing that the sea and sky would stop at my command was a potent feeling, one of the few times in my life when I didn’t feel so helpless in my sickly, fragile body. But there was also another, more selfish reason I looked forward to the rite: the Banishing was the only time I was ever allowed out of the tower. I always felt guilty about it, but the days I looked forward to were also the most dangerous times for the rest of Aranth.
For all they said about goddesses who could do anything, I knew there were limits. I couldn’t use aether-gates like the Catseye to make others better. But I could inflict other curses instead—poison, lethargy, a host of other ailments—and sometimes I wondered if my ability to curse rather than heal was a character flaw, some defect I had beyond the physical. But my mother, I knew, had the same shortcomings.
All the other elements were mine to command, and I could use them with ease where others struggled. There weren’t a lot of things in life that I was good at, but I knew I was good at this.
Mother squared her shoulders, as Lan wrapped a thick cloak around me. I shivered when I felt her warm hands brush against my neck, oblivious to the cold. “Let’s begin, before we have to deal with floods along with everything else,” Mother said.
The Spire was built on a cliff that faced the worst of the endless waves. It was a visual reminder for the citizens below that we goddesses were the city’s bulwark, the one thing standing between them and utter destruction.
We walked down the steps hammered into the stone, a path that led to the base of the ice wall that encircled most of the city limits. Torches showed us the way; the night was just as dark in the Third Hour of Waking as it was in the Thirteenth. The area was closed off to the rest of the citizens; any careless vandalism could cause the walls to disintegrate and water to flood the city within minutes. I stumbled a little; try as I might, I always found myself winded and out of breath despite the short descent. But this time I had Lan’s hand on my arm, gently steering me, and I clung to her gratefully.
A cluster of Devoted waited, along with several of their assistants. Gracea was the first to step forward, the first to curtsy. As Aranth’s only Starmaker and leader of my mother’s Devoted, she took her role seriously. I’d had little interaction with the rest of Mother’s council, but Gracea had always struck me as a little too smug for her own good. “Your Holiness,” she murmured calmly, though the constant tugging at her gold-piping-edged hood revealed her nerves. Like her, the other Devoted wore their official robes, colors marking their cowls to indicate their respective abilities—blue for Icewrights, yellow for Windshifters, and so on. “We are ready.”
I stared out into the endless sea. I’d felt restless since leaving the tower, an uneasiness that I’d never experienced during previous rituals. Why did I feel like there was something out there, hidden within the wind-tossed waters, watching me? I shuddered at the thought.
The other Devoted appeared to share my unease. Seasinger Graham always had a kind smile for me and a friendly word, but it was clear he was more worried than usual. Windshifter Filia kept glaring at Lan for some reason. Several Icewrights were monitoring the floes before us, exchanging hushed opinions, and a half dozen Stormbringers were already channeling their gates, attempting to appease the rain by lessening its impact around us. Only Mistshaper Gareen seemed relaxed, flirting with one of the other Devoted women—today it was Miel—like nothing was wrong.
Mother looked out at the raging sea, her prismatic hair flying around her. “Janella, how fast is the wind today?”
Gracea’s assistant, a girl with doe eyes standing at the back of the group, spoke up. Like many other citizens, she had been born with muted gates, the red tinge around her irises marking her as a dormant Firesmoker. Only Mother and I could channel Fire nowadays, but even for us it was difficult—there weren’t enough of the patterns in Aranth for the average user. “Nearing forty knots, Your Holiness.”
“A dozen knots too many for my taste.” She extended a hand toward me. I accepted it, felt her strength flow through my fingers and bolster my own. “It’s your turn this time, Odessa.”
Mother usually helmed these summonings, but she’d been encouraging me to take the lead of late. I took a deep breath, snuck a quick glance back at Lan, who looked worried but also strangely expectant.