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“It needs to be sewn up,” she finally said. “With something that deep, it might reopen before magic can heal it.”

“I’ll find someone tomo?—”

“I can do it.” Vale sat back a bit, giving us both room to breathe. “If that’s okay. I have supplies here. I bought them at the market.”

“You know how to do that?” I asked.

“I’ve stitched many things in my life.” She didn’t elaborate, but I knew it was about the temple. She always had a slightly different tone to her voice when she spoke of it.

I was there for four years.

We were punished if our readings were not clear enough.

My friends and I snuck to each others’ rooms at night.

The brand on my shoulder…

Each was said with a certain inflection, despite the gravity of the confession. Each was a piece of herself offered after being burned so many times. Pieces, I was realizing, I could never fully turn away, no matter how hard I tried.

“Go ahead,” I said. “But talk to me as you do it. Please.”

And now it was the inflection in my words that she was reading. The way I said please, desperately and vulnerably, as I had that night I came to her begging for help.

Clearly, as we locked eyes in silence, both of us were taken back there. Both of us acknowledged what happened, accepting it without needing to say it.

“What do you want me to talk about?” Vale asked, digging through her supplies.

I needed something heavy. Not frivolous. That wouldn’t be enough of a distraction.

“Who is Harlen?” I asked.

Vale froze for the briefest moment, then stood, a sterilized needle and Bodymelder thread in hand. She crept closer and assessed the way I was seated against the wall. Looked at the tiled roof around us and judged the angle of the light.

“May I?” she asked, gesturing to my lap.

My throat dried again. I nodded, and she positioned herself across my hips, firmly straddling me. Great.

As she dug the needle in for the first stitch, she started speaking, and her voice became that wind chime that carried away the pain. “Harlen and I were at the Lumin Temple together. I’ve told you a bit about…my time there.”

I was sure she left out the most horrific parts, but there’d been violence against the children at the hands of the masters. Her brand was from the temple.

“Was he—” I hissed as she tugged at the thread. Reflexively, my hands shot to her hips.

She froze for a moment, then relaxed against me, bringing her that much closer. I held on.

“Don’t talk, or you’ll move, and it’ll hurt more,” she scolded. I liked that firm tone while she sat like this more than I should.

“Harlen was not branded as I was. He was an orphan who turned to the temple for help, but we arrived the same week. As I’ve said, I’ve told you a bit about my time at the temple, though I haven’t elaborated on why I was there in the first place or why I left.”

Tug, tug, tug, that needle went against my skin, and she unfolded her story between us. She spoke calmly, but this was something she was trusting me with. Something she offered after what I did for her tonight.

“Back then, the masters were taking children in secret. It was illegal, but some didn’t care. Villages were ransacked, children were branded to temples, some faced much worse fates.” The end of her sentence faltered, and I could only imagine why. “At first, I didn’t know why I was taken. It wasn’t until I was older that I learned I was sent to the temple because I was deemed special. Starsearchers’ readings are not only tied to our Angel, but?—”

“They depend on the eleven Fates,” I said, hissing again as the thread pulled.

“Shh,” she reprimanded with a slight laugh. “But yes. The eleven Fates—used to be twelve—are our touchpoints leading to Valyrie and Moirenna.” She paused. “You really remember?”

I remember everything, I’d told her before the night went to the Spirits in the fighting rings.