“Yeah.That.” She leaned back against one of her pillows, sighing loudly. “You look like you’re from one of the eastern isles. Let me guess – Foulkan?”
“Serila.”
“Huh.” She levelled those cool blue eyes at me. “You donotlook like you’re from Serila.”
Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe my mother – my real mother – had been from Foulkan, where the islanders had brown skin and dark hair, obsidian eyes, and sharp tongues. It didn’t matter. I was taken from Serila. From the person who did not birth me but was more of a mother than anyone else would ever be.
“What about you?” I changed the subject.
“I’m from the mainland,” the girl said. “Dorisport.”
My brows raised on their own accord. I had lived a cloistered life in the governor’s house, but still, I had heard stories about the mainland from Umma, from the other cooks and cleaners, and even the men who tended the gardens.
“I’ve never met someone from Dorisport,” I hedged, not wanting to offend her with my next question. “Is it really as… religious, as they say?”
“Oh, yeah.” The girl’s eyes fluttered closed as if she hadn’t just slept for days. “There’s a monument on practically every corner. You can’t walk four feet down the street without one of those zealous Children of the Gods preaching fealty. My family are super religious,” she said this last part like it was a secret, shared between old friends.
“And you aren’t?” I couldn’t help but question, fascinated to have met someone so far from Serila. Citizens of the mainland hardly ever traveled to neighboring islands. There was no reason for them to when the mainland housed the most important temple. The one that was said to have once been the hallowed crossing ground for the gods themselves eons ago, when they had deigned to leave their land and visit our world; a tale so outlandish I had trouble believing it.
The girl blew out a breath, lifting her head to study the ceiling. “To an extent, I am. You can’t not be, living in Dorisport. Not with the Amber Temple at your doorstep.” She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “I’m just not as… fervent, as most. I perform the rituals on the holy days, and usually do my nightly prayers, but I don’t really know if they’re ever listening.”
“The gods are always listening,” I said. “Whether theyhearyou is another story.”
It was the most I could say without my words venturing into treason. To speak ill against the gods was not only careless, butdangerous too. From what Umma had told me, the gods were a petty bunch. Whispered enmity had once wrought floods of devastation and destruction upon Concorde several years ago. They were still rebuilding to this day.
She gave me a curious look. “You’re surprisingly candid for someone from Serila.”
“Is there talk that we’re deceitful?”
“Your governor has a reputation for dishonesty. It has made trading with Serila most risky. My father’s a tradesman,” she added as an aside.
Being a tradesman could be a noble profession, but there were many who were crooked, and a side effect of the job was exposure to corruption, from secrets to black market deals. It made the occupation trickier to navigate than others. “Is that why you were taken?”
Her eyes flickered to me, then over to the ceiling.
“I’m sorry,” I hastened, “if that was too invasive.”
She let out a soft chuckle. “There’s nothing invasive about it. You were also taken. It’s not a secret. To be quite honest, I don’t know why I was taken. All I know is that three elven arrived halfway through Augustine and took me.”
“And your family–” I paused, not knowing whether I should finish that sentence.
She scoffed. “What were they supposed to do? I have three younger sisters. It was either me or one of them. I’d rather it be me. And it’s not like anyone will ever rebel against the Mortal Trials. If they do, the elven will stop blessing the isles, all our crops will die, and then we’ll starve to death.”
“What do you mean they bless the land?” I asked. This was the first I was hearing of it.
Her brows scrunched. “Have you been living under a rock?”
Close. The governor’s house was a fortress, the kitchen my prison. I had only ever heard whispered rumors of the elven. I had even been half-convinced that Augustine was a cautionary tale, a bedtime story told to children so they would behave.
She shook her head at my silence and continued, “Every month, an elven representative visits each isle. They drop a seed of magic in the soil, and it ensures our crops are healthy.”
“What happens if they stop?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out. There’s a reason why we coexist so peacefully with the elven, why no mortal will ever raise an army to challenge them. It’s a battle we would not win. I suppose the loss of thirteen lives every decade is far better than the countless who would lose their lives in a war.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I am glad they took me and not my sisters. Everyone knows no one makes it out of the Trials, anyway.”
Her words made me feel queasy. The truth behind them echoed hollowly in my chest. The thought of me not making it back home, of never seeing Umma again, was too painful to bear. I had to make it back. I made a promise. “Don’t say that.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t mean to tell me you actually think you’re getting out of this alive? I know you Serilans are an untrustworthy bunch, but I didn’t take you for naïve.”