WAIT FOR LOVE (Lovemark #4)

12. Unity

12

Unity

After making it to the dressmaker’s cottage without incident, Dori and I were each able to get a day dress to wear out of the shop, plus we ordered half a dozen others to be sent to us.

If I’d had any question that Dori was a foreigner before, they all went away as we left the shop because she couldn’t seem to adjust to the new clothes. I’d never heard anyone complain about wearing a simple frock so ardently before, ergo, she definitely wasn’t from around here.

“Are you sure these dresses are really supposed to be this tight? I can barely breathe. Can you breathe?”

“I can breathe just fine,” I told her as I hustled us toward the priestess’s temple.

“Well, how?” she muttered, tugging against the cloth hugging her. “These wooden things are crushing my rib cage. Ouch!”

I glanced over and found her scowling at the ground.

“I dropped my bag,” she lamented, looking miserable.

“And then tried to bend over to fetch it?” I guessed with an empathetic sigh because I’d definitely been there before.

“Well, yeah. What else was I supposed to do? I can’t just call it a lost cause. All my clothes from home are in there. I’ll need them for when I return.”

“Bend at the knees, not the waist,” I advised.

Grumbling, she did. “This feels ridiculous. I can’t believe this is normal attire here. Don’t you value oxygen? Like at all?”

“You get used to it,” I told her as the temple came into view.

“Now I understand why so many women swooned in all those regency romances I always read. They literally could not breathe.”

Regency romances? I paused to glance at her as we made it to the stone pillars that marked the entrance of the home for the village priestess who applied our hallowed marks. “I have no idea what that means.”

“Yeah, well, I have no idea what this place is,” she shot back, glancing curiously at all the markings carved into the wall around the entrance. “So we’re even.”

“It’s the temple where the high priestess lives. She’s a powerful bearer of pure magic, and the one who’ll give you your mark.”

“Ah…” With a nod, Dori pointed. “And what do all these symbols say? Is this some kind of ancient alien Outer Realms language?”

With a laugh, I shook my head. “Of course not. They’re just a design the priestess found pleasing to look at.”

“Oh.” Dori’s brow furrowed in confusion, but then she shrugged. “Okay.” And she followed me into the temple, only to shiver immediately. “Brr. It’s freezing in here.”

When Dori briskly rubbed the sides of her bare arms with her hands, I untied the neck string from my cape and whipped it off before handing it over. “Here. Wear this. It’s said the priestess is quite sensitive to heat, so it’ll likely be even chillier in her inner sanctum.

“Great,” Dori cheered sarcastically and took the cloak from me. “So looking forward to that. But, uh, won’t you need this?”

I shrugged and started across a dim stone floor. “I’ll be fine.”

The empty, gray room held no furniture or rugs or wall-hangings. On the opposite side of it sat an ornately carved wooden door, so I headed that way, only to pause as I reached it because the muffled cry of an infant vibrated through the portal, telling me the priestess was otherwise occupied.

“What is that?” Dori asked in a hushed voice as she came up behind me and gripped my arm uncertainly.

I glanced over my shoulder at her to find that her eyes were enlarged with terror.

The corner of my mouth kicked up. “Sounds like someone’s already getting their mark.”

“Dear God.” She gulped uneasily. “Does it hurt that badly?”

“It’s a mere babe,” I explained. “Don’t they cry about everything?”

She sliced me with a strange glance. “Not very sympathetic for the poor kid, are you?”

I shrugged. “No, sorry. I survived the application of my mark. This child will too.”

With a sniff, she shook her head. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

Suddenly, the crying grew louder as if it was nearly at the door just before the handle turned and the portal opened. An armored guard appeared before stepping aside to let a young couple exit, the woman cradling a crying bundle to her chest and murmuring, “There, there, now. It’s all done. You’ll be fine, sweetness. Momma’s here. It’s over.”

As the wailing fell into whimpering sniffles, I glanced toward Dori. “See. It’s already over and done, just like that.”

We stepped aside to let the family pass, only to look up as the guard turned his attention to us. “The priestess will take one more application today, and that’s it,” he announced stoically.

I brightened. “Perfect. All we need is one.”

He nodded. “Then enter and wait until the priestess mixes new ink.”

“Thank you.” I inclined my head in gratitude and stepped into the room. Dori stuck to my elbow and hurried in with me.

“Is that her?” she whispered into my ear, her breath causing a fog around me since it was so cold in here.

Being that there was only one woman in the room who sat at a simple table, grinding something into dust in a stone mortar bowl with a pestle, I nodded my affirmation. The priestess was dressed similarly to us and looked like an average working woman in her middle years with plump features, a cheerful disposition, and dark hair piled into ringlets on her head.

“Huh,” Dori answered, blinking. “I was expecting something totally different. Maybe some flowing white robes, a big headdress, lots of jewelry. Weird, trippy music playing in the background.”

“Shh,” the guard snapped. “The priestess requires silence while she works.”

“Oh, s**t. Sorry.” Dori winced and slapped a hand to her mouth.

I tightened my lips flat together and tried not to laugh.

A minute later, the priestess hummed to herself, ignoring us completely as she reached for a ceramic pitcher sitting on the table next to her, where she poured a droplet of liquid into the mortar. Then she ground that into the concoction, squinted into the depths, and added more before she found a consistency that pleased her. After mixing the last bit together, she sat back in her chair and finally looked up.

“Now…” she announced, smiling in pleasant welcome. “Come forward, my dear.” And she lifted her hand toward Dori.

Her guard brusquely nudged the earthling in the back. “The priestess is ready. Sit.”

When Dori scampered back to my side and shook her head, I gave her a stern glance. She frowned my way, only to roll her eyes. “Oh, alright. Fine. I can’t believe I’m freaking doing this. If this follows me home, I’m going to be so pissed.”

Cringing at the priestess, she neared the chair that sat on the opposite side of the table. “Hey there. This is actually my first tattoo so—”

“The priestess does not require conversation,” her guard cut in, his monotone voice apparently irritating Dori because she cast him a sour glance.

“Has the priestess ever told you you’re kind of a d**k?”

The woman on the other side of the table laughed as her guard merely blinked in confusion. “Pay no attention to Ebert,” she assured Dori with a motherly pat on the hand. “He’s just a bit overprotective of me. It tends to bring out the stuffier side of him.”

“I guess so,” Dori muttered, lifting her eyebrows pointedly at Ebert before turning back to the priestess.

“And don’t fret about the pain, dear. For all the treasures the mark will afford you, this little pinprick is a mere passing moment, soon forgotten.”

When she carefully picked up the mortar and poured the black ink into a hollow tube with a pointed needle-like tip at the end, however, Dori pulled back in her seat, eyeing it with clear distrust.

“Yeah, but on a scale of one to ten…” Whimpering when the priestess reached out and gripped her chin to pull her close before tipping Dori’s face to the left. “Is it total, searing pain, or—ouch!”

“It is that kind of pain,” the priestess paused to tell her. “Now be still until I finish. If I slip and make the wrong move, I might accidentally give you a dark curse instead.”

Dori snorted. “Yeah, I definitely don’t need another one of those, thanks.”

The priestess paused and blinked at her slowly. “Another?”

“Uh…” Dori’s eyes flared before she rolled her eyes. “I was just—you know—kidding.” The uneasy laugh that followed nearly made me slap a palm to my brow and groan dismally. Poor Dori needed to learn how to get herself a filter.

But the priestess nodded cluelessly and went back to work, applying the tattoo. Dori slid her gaze my way and winced.

“No moving,” the priestess snapped.

“Sorry. Sorry.”

The earthling managed to stay still for the next few minutes until the priestess finished her job.

“There,” she said, sitting back with a satisfied nod. “It is done. You will now be able to sense your true love whenever he or she is near.”

“Swell,” Dori said, nodding before she glanced toward the guard and offered him a sympathetic sniff. “Did you hear that, Ebert? I guess this means you’re not the one for me. Sorry, bud.”

The guard merely blinked at her, with no idea how to respond, and I snuffled out a laugh as I stepped forward to toss the required coin onto the table in order to pay the priestess for her services.

“Thank you, my lady,” I told her.

She inclined her head to me graciously. “Thank you,” she countered, eyeing the tip I had added. Then she looked up again. “This is the first I’ve ever been afforded the chance to mark an otherworldly being.” Her gaze slid back to Dori as her lips loosened into a gentle smile. “It was quite an...experience.”

Dori merely gaped at her with nothing to say. So I hooked my hand around her arm. “She definitely is that,” I said, tugging the earthling backward and out of the room before anyone else discovered even more oddities about her. “Have a nice day, my lady.”

The guard opened the door for us, and I pretty much pushed Dori into the outer room before hurrying out after her.

As soon as the door shut, she turned to me. “How did she know—?”

“She’s a person of great magical powers,” I hissed, hushing her before she could even finish the question. “Of course she’d be able to sense something different about you. Now, let’s get out of here before she learns just how different you are.”

Dori glanced behind her toward the closed door of the priestess’s chambers. “Good idea.”

We exited the temple at a much faster rate than we’d entered it. Hooking my arm through hers to keep her closer and protected, I steered her down the block to head toward our next destination.

“You don’t mind if we stop by the village coop before meeting Olivander at the library, do you?” I asked. “I’d like to send him a message from Unity so he doesn’t worry about her when he receives word from his men that I’m no longer at the academy.”

“I don’t mind,” she assured. “That sounds like a good idea, actually. We don’t need Vander freaking out about your location when you’re secretly right in front of him.”

“Exactly.” Glad she understood, I nodded, only to warn, “Stop touching it.”

She sniffed out a sound but dropped her hand. “It still stings. Are you certain it looks okay? I’m still not sure what to think about getting my face tattooed.”

“It looks exactly as the mark should,” I answered patiently.

“And you’re absolutely positive this won’t follow me back home, because if it does—”

“Your mother never had the mark of the curse on her arm when you knew her, did she?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Then you also shouldn’t take either tattoo back with you,” I reasoned.

“Right.” She nodded. “Mom would’ve had that tattoo too if she’d come from here. Huh. That is so weird. But really. Shouldn’t the priestess lady have covered this with something? An ointment? Plastic wrap? Feels like I’m walking around with an exposed wound.”

When she went to touch the mark again, I grabbed her arm to stop her. “You’ll be fine.”

She sighed dramatically. “If you say so. Here’s your cloak back, by the way. Crazy how warm it is out here but freezing it was in—oh Lord!” Wincing, she flung the cloak toward me so she could cover her ears and wince. “What is all that shouting about?”

I blinked, draping the cloak over my arm, and glanced around, not hearing any shouting at all. The only sound overpowering all the other sounds of the normal village crowd was the cawing and cooing of the birds in the coop up ahead. Their screeches kept growing louder the closer we drew to them, and Dori flinched even harder.

“You mean the birds?” I finally asked, pointing.

She glanced at the wired mesh wall that housed the outer yard for the messenger birds and shook her head. “No. This is human voices,” Dori explained. “Hundreds of them. They’re trapped. Hungry. Begging for food and freedom and their loved ones.”

Frowning, I slowed to a stop and strained, trying to hear what she was hearing. “Which direction is it coming from?” I asked.

“From—well, from there, I guess.” Dori pointed directly at the coop as she squinted at me in confusion. “Can you seriously not hear it?”

“All I can hear are the ravens and the pigeons,” I told her. “There shouldn’t be people in there, except maybe the caretaker who feeds them.”

“But they’re so loud. And insistent,” she told me, beginning to look concerned. “One man’s even crying about his—wait…” Pausing, she blinked and then cupped a hand around her ear. “Did he just say his wing was broken?” She sent me a wide-eyed glance. “Do you have winged people in this world?”

“No,” I told her, shaking my head. “But we have winged pigeons. And ravens,” I added, pointing at the coop again.

She frowned at it. “But they sound human. And they’re saying human words. Oh my God, do your animals talk in human voices here?”

“Not typically,” I said slowly. “Can you not hear their chirping and cawing and cooing, then?”

With a squint, she said, “No. I can’t hear any kind of typical bird sounds. That’s weird.”

“Oh...wow,” I said slowly, then I gripped her arm and gasped. “I think I just figured out what your magical gift is... You can understand birds!”