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I distracted myself, trying to puzzle out the rules of the different games they played while keeping an ear on the various conversations in the room. In a way, much of it was normal. Gossip, musings, egos competing immodestly. Me, listening, trying to make sense of a world where no one would tell me what rules I was at risk of breaking. Just like how I grew up.

Slyne took a spot by me on the floor sometime later. “The initiation will happen at dusk. Have you thought of who you’ll devote yourself to?”

“I was considering the goddess Anagenni.” The words popped from my mouth before I had a chance to consider what it meant to devote myself to a goddess I’d never heard of.

She frowned. “I don’t know this goddess. What is she the goddess of?”

I was hoping Slyne would’ve known. Really, Slyne should have known—she’d obviously been in the Monastery for some time, by the way the others regarded her, including Vora. And the Monastery had statues to even the tiny god Thiox, who was the patron god of spoiled food.

“Oh, she’s a goddess my mother was fond of,” I lied. “How did you come to devote yourself to Lixa?”

Slyne allowed me to change the subject, and launched into a long story of how Lixa had guided her to the Monastery.

“I knew it was divine luck,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I worried I’d be punished for such hubris, but when I met Devoin, I confided in him, and he agreed. He said I was meant to find the Monastery and shepherd others onto the true path.”

“Devoin?” I asked.

“Devoin is this Monastery’s head priest. Our leader,” she clarified, the fondness in her voice obvious. “He should be here soon. He’ll oversee your initiation.”

Right.That. “The initiation… what’s it like?” I hoped I sounded eager and curious, rather than worried.

She just gave me a cryptic smile. “Courage, Samara. The gods will make all things clear.”

That was not reassuring.

The door creaked opened. A man walked in, older than the acolytes by some years. He was older, but far from feeble, a man in his prime or just starting to go past it. We weren’t the only ones to turn. The entire room seemed magnetized as the man strode in. Slyne helped me to my feet and led me over by the crook of my arm.

“Devoin.” Her voice took on a slightly different note, more girlish. “I’m pleased to say another has found their way towards the true path. May I present Samara, our next acolyte.”

He looked only at Slyne, a broad grin tipping his lips. “You’ve done well.”

She beamed.

He continued to smile as he turned his attention to me, but it didn’t have the same warmth. “As for whether you’ve found your way… that’s for the gods to determine.”

Chapter Seventeen

When I’d arrived, Slynehad led me up the tower. For the initiation, we ventured below ground. Devoin led the way, Slyne trailing right behind with my arm still locked in hers. A few others followed. The older members, I noted. Maybe only those who had a certain ranking could come to the Monastery?

Nerves frayed under my skin, but I forced myself to match Slyne’s steps, breathing deeply through my nose.

I survived Greymere.

It’ll just be some prayers. I’ll repeat what they say, and it’ll be fine.

And if it’s not… Ican handle it.

Whatever it cost, it’d be a small price for safety. For belonging.

The basement level was different from the rest of the spaces I’d seen. The stairs led to a wide, circular room. As with every other room, statues lined the space, but these were larger, at least eight feet tall, and carved from dark stone. They were carved with the same magical perfection as the ones at the front of the garden, but I forced myself to ignore it. Hanging braziers punctuated the space between the statues, casting the room in a low glow that reminded me of the dark halls I’d spent the past years in.

This was different. It was my choice to be here.

Devoin stood in the center. Slyne nudged me forward before taking a post in front of a statue, matching where the others scattered around.

“You’ve come to seek sanctuary in the temple of the gods, the true rulers of the realm. Do you wish for their deliverance?” Devoin intoned. His words were pious, but there was something in the tone that rankled. A coating of superiority that followed each one out, that said,I have what you want.

I forced myself to hold my head high. “I do.”