Sister Scupley reached over and smacked Vivene’s hand with a wooden spoon.
“Owww!”
Sister Scupley gave her a harsh, “Shhh!” They weren’t allowed to talk during supper.
Kalea’s stomach churned at the thought of the apparent changes about to happen around here. Which of them would be sent away? And which personnel? She propped her head on her palm and stared at her lentil soup. Next to her, Joy had already finished her little drop of soup. The convent was in trouble. The people within it were in trouble.
Kalea slid her bowl over to Joy, who popped her head up and turned to Kalea. Joy’s face had gone pallid. She needed the nourishment more than Kalea did. Joy’s mouth dropped open, and she pointed to herself. With a smile, Kalea pointed to the bowl. Gawking at her, Joy slid it the rest of the way and dug in with her spoon.
Chapter 10
Her Body
At the breakfast table, Kalea took one bite of her oats and slid the bowl over to Rose, who sat tearing up while staring at her already empty one. A smile brightened her innocent face when Kalea’s offering scooted into her sight. Kalea touched one fingertip to her lips—a hand gesture to honor the One Creator, showing a single finger to indicate Him, and kissing it to indicate love. Rose gave the gesture back to her.
On that single bite of food, Kalea went about her morning chores, her afternoon prayers, and on to afternoon laundry hanging. By the midafternoon hour, her stomach roared and she braced a hand on the wall when another dizzy spell overtook her.
A deep familiar voice resonated beside her. “Are you all right, Kalea?”
“Dorhen, you’re not supposed to be in here.”
He appeared beside her as the hood fell off his head. “You weren’t at the creek. I thought we were going to meet and say the alphabet today.”
She released the wall and balanced herself. “Oh. I forgot.”
“You don’t look good. Have you eaten?”
She turned back to her basket of soggy linens. “No. I’m fasting. It’s a ritual we do once in a while to honor the One Creator.”
“Well, stop it. You’ve gone pale.”
“I can’t. Don’t you know there’s a famine?” He grabbed a linen out of the basket and copied what she did with it. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t think you can handle it on your own.”
She clenched her teeth. Should she be offended or happy for the help? She was too tired to decide at the moment. He had certainly become bold about appearing in open spaces where he might be seen. In this area, the cover of the hanging sheets provided them some privacy, but that wouldn’t stop Sister Gani from coming to check on her.
“Kalea,” he said with his voice high and inquisitive.
“Hmm?”
“You should leave this place.”
She cocked her head toward him, holding her current garment high. “You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not. Staying here is a bad idea, especially with a famine. There are other places we can go where food can be found more easily.”
“We?”
“Yes.”
When should she tell him some of the novices would be sent away? What would he do if she turned out to be one of them?
“You want me to go away with you?”
“I’m good at surviving in the forest.”
“So together, we’ll eat a bunch of tree bark?”
“I’m being serious.”
She clicked her tongue and went for the next garment in the basket. “You just don’t understand.”
“What, your willingness to starve in here because no one’s bringing in any food for you?”
“But I’m going to be a vestal.”
“And?”
“And vestals have a duty to—”
“To the One Creator?” He smiled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I sat outside the window of the big room and listened to the man talking about the One Creator.”
“And what did you hear Father Liam say about Him?”
“That the One Creator created everything. This earth.” He stamped his foot. “This rock. Those trees out there.”
“And what else did you hear?”
“It’s not what I heard afterward, it’s what I thought. The world in there was created by other humans.” He pointed to the building behind her. She frowned and glanced back where his finger pointed. “You insist on staying closed up in your world made by humans, and yet you want to praise and honor the One Creator, who created much more out here. Why not come outside with me and enjoy all of it?”
“Because I live in there where it’s safe.”
He grabbed her hand, and she held in a scream. His eyes sparked brightly over his joyful and mischievous smile, like any elf from any fairy tale she’d read. “Come out with me for one day.”
“What will we do?” she asked as she inspected him all over for any indication of baseness she could find. This could be the invitation to her downfall.
“We’ll go to the creek and splash around. We can catch frogs.”
“What?”
“If you follow the creek downstream a few miles, it runs into a cave. A big one. The sun shines into the cave and makes amazing lights on the walls. And it echoes. We can go in there and yell. We can sing!”
Kalea blinked her eyes, looking at his warm hand grasping hers. The excited light in his beaming eyes spread to her lips in a smile. She forced the smile down. If she allowed the smile, it might escalate into a laugh. A laugh might escalate into her squeezing his hand back, and then maybe a hug, or she might take his other hand and twirl with him and laugh some more and say “yes.”
The jittery sensation rose in her abdomen. Had he cast the spell again? Or was this…was this what happened when people fell in love like in the stories?
She took her hand away. “No.” She said it softly; no need to get riled up and make him feel bad again. His smile faded. Though the picture of the two of them dancing hand-in-hand was nice, it wasn’t her destiny. She belonged in this convent as a Sister of Sorrow, not in a lover’s hand, a husband’s house, or an elf’s forest.
“Sorry,” she added.
His hands dropped to his sides. His smile was obviously forced.
“Since you’re here, though, let’s go over the alphabet again. And we’ll do another confession.”
“Sure.” With his posture deflated, he followed her to a deep corner where the wall adjoined one of the convent wings. She took the broom leaning against the wall along the way.
“I’ll go slow to help you soak it up.” She turned the broom over and used its handle to draw an A in the dirt.
“That’s A,” he said.
“Very good. What sound does it make?”
“‘Ah.’” Beside it, she drew the next symbol. “That’s B. As in ‘bucket’ or ‘barrel.’”
She paused to wonder at him. “I didn’t expect you to remember all this. Our session yesterday was so brief. Can you remember the—”
“C as in ‘cart.’ D as in ‘danger.’ E as in ‘everyone.’ F as in ‘fight.’ G as in ‘girl.’ H as in ‘heat…’” He went through them all, speaking rapidly. He stopped at Q, remembering the symbol, but unable to put it to a word.
“As in ‘quick,’” she said.
“Thank you,” he replied, and went through the rest of the alphabet, stopping again at X.
“This one is hard. I’m not good with words starting with X, but it’s the third letter in ‘next.’ I’m impressed with you, though. Were you practicing all night?”
“I remember all the symbols you taught me. I applied the sounds you taught me to words I knew. Am I right about these words?”
“You are.” She studied him for a moment.
“What else?”
“Um.” She shook out of her little trance and said, “Next I’ll explain how the letters work together. You said the word ‘cart.’” She wrote “cart” in the dirt
and explained each letter and how it worked to make the word possible.
“And that’s it. That’s reading. If you can remember each letter and the sounds it makes, you can read any word. If you find a long word, you can sound it out to figure it out for yourself.” She underlined the word while pronouncing it.
“How do you write ‘Kalea?’”
Hiding her smile, she wrote her name in the dirt.
“This one’s my favorite. It’s beautiful.”
Kalea cleared her throat and kept her raging amusement suppressed. “And this is your name.” She marked out the letters of his name, and he shook his head.
“It’s hard and somber. But yours is curly and playful.”
Her giggle drew his eyes. “Your name isn’t somber. It’s soft, gentle.”
He smirked.
“So, then…do you grasp reading now?”
“I think so. I’ll look at words I find and try to practice on them.”
“Dorhen.”
“Hmm?”
She lowered her chin but tried to maintain eye contact. “We can keep meeting. I’ll help you practice reading and teach you more about praying too.”
His sweet, bright smile returned. “Thank you.”
Still holding the broom, she focused on her two hands grasping its handle. She resituated them.
“That reminds me,” he said, reaching into his largest belt pouch. A few leather pouches hung from his belt, implements of his traveler’s lifestyle. He pulled out a book. “I found this this morning. I thought you could read it to me.”
A sleek golden arrow winked at her from the book’s spine. Her mouth dropped open and rounded. “A Lehomis book? Where did you get this?” She narrowed her brow. “Did you steal it?”
“The shiny arrow caught my eye. When I opened it, there were more pretty pictures inside.”
“Dorhen, I’m not allowed to read Lehomis books…”
He showed her a hand-colored woodcut somewhere in the middle of the book with jagged, splintery lines illustrating Lehomis with his long, black braid running along the curve of his spine, grasping a shy woman’s hand and shoving his face closer to hers. The woman gave a shy smile and his mouth gaped in a longing frown. The ears of the woman in the picture were rounded—a human. Dorhen’s smile curved under glowing eyes. Lehomis was an elf, and his affection was aimed at a human woman in the picture.
Kalea shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Will you read it to me?”
She sighed. “You’ll read it to me. What do you say?”
“Fair enough.”
“Put it away. We can’t read right now.”
He obeyed. “Kalea,” he said as she bent over to pick up another wet garment from the basket, “How did you get in here?”
“I told you. I’m mentally ill. My parents sent me to this place.”
“But you’re better now, aren’t you? Especially since now you know you don’t have a mental illness.”
“We don’t leave when we ‘get better.’ It’s not a hospital, it’s a convent, and we are a faction of religious women. And are you arguing with me about leaving again?”
Biting his lip, he glanced at his soft leather shoes. He always dressed like a human. He must’ve told the truth about not visiting Norr since his childhood. “I want to know things about you.”
She bit her lip at the thought of talking about herself in depth with him. She’d demanded he answer any and all of her questions about himself—it wouldn’t be fair to refuse to answer his questions about her.
“Where did you live before you came here?”
She sighed. “Taulmoil. It’s a few days’ ride to—”
“To the east, I know.”
“Have you been there?”
“Yes, many times. Even when I was little. Maybe we came close to each other in the past and didn’t know it.”
She smiled and continued with the laundry. He also took out a bedsheet and hung it beside the chemise she was hanging.
“No,” she said. “Don’t let it have any folds or it’ll take longer to dry. Straighten it out.” She leaned into his personal space, using her free hand to adjust his sheet while holding up the other side of her garment.
“Sorry.” His voice hummed warm in her ear.
“You’ll get it. Is this the plan? Helping me hang laundry now?”
“If you wish it. I’ll do anything you ask.”
She shook her head. “You’ll get caught.”
“Kalea, what’s your favorite food?”
A snort escaped in her laugh. “Frog legs.”
At his silence, she turned to check on him. His face had gone long. “Why?”
“They’re good, and they’re plentiful too.”
His mouth dropped open. “That’s awful. Why would you eat them?”
She laughed out loud. “What’s the matter? Do you have sympathy for the frogs?”
“I love them.”
She couldn’t help but turn to study his sincere and sorrowful face. Her heart warmed. “You’re kind of”—she lowered her voice—“sweet sometimes.”
“Hmm?”
“Never mind.” Another light, feathery laugh escaped her throat. “I won’t eat anymore frog legs, how about that?”
“Actually, I’d have you eat anything. You’re so fragile-looking. When I met you, you were full of energy, enough to swing that stick and run with me all the way to the forest.”
“Well, things are changing, and I’m afraid it’ll get worse fast.” When she looked up again, he was frowning. “You want to nag me to leave again?”
“I believe it would be better for you. Give me the order, and I’ll help you get out of here.”
“I can’t.” The two words slid out as a breathy whisper. Why couldn’t she leave?
“Do you still have a mother?”
The question jarred her out of her thought. “Yes. My mother is alive.”
“Is she in Taulmoil?”
“She is. And my father.”
His eyebrows narrowed at the last part. “Don’t you miss her?”
“Sometimes.” Kalea returned to her work again.
“What is she like? She stitches clothes, you said before.”
“Yes.”
“What else is she like?”
“A hard, no-nonsense woman who would have preferred a boy. My father is gentler. I used to love to sit on his lap by the fire and he’d read me the Lehomis book…” She stopped talking when Dorhen’s face went long in surprise.
“You had this book?” He motioned to the pouch where he’d stashed it.
“Yeah. I adore Lehomis.”
Dorhen grinned wide. “Now I know your favorite book. And I happened to find one. I have good instincts, you’ll learn about me.”
She giggled. “All the more reason to run away with you, huh?”
His smile retracted to the closed-mouth type, but his soft eyes implied she was correct.
Noting the sun’s angle, she clicked her tongue. “This isn’t good. The evening prayer hour is coming and I have to finish this laundry. Quick, let’s do a confession before I have to go back in. Someone could also come out here to fetch me for any reason.”
Several new walls of sheets hung with the others now, and at the heart of the complex, Kalea sat on the stool. Dorhen knelt before her like he had yesterday. “I’m going to make you a good follower of the Creator if you insist on seeing me every day.”
“Yes,” he said, “anything for you. I’ll do anything.”
She cleared her throat. “If you remember most of the alphabet after one run through, can I assume you remember the confession opening?”
Dorhen cleared his throat and began, “One Creator, forgive me because I’ve sinned.”
“What have you to confess?” Kalea settled her eyes on the treetops over the convent wall as he pointed his face the opposite way. The wind whistled. She waited. A few moments passed before she peeked at him. He frowned and squinted. �
�Have you anything to confess, child?”
“I don’t think I’ve done anything sinful.”
She couldn’t stifle her smile this time. “You must’ve done something. There’s always something.”
“I don’t know. I’ve stolen food before the day we met.”
“Well, that’s something. But what else? Did you steal the book?”
“I bought it, unless it’s a sin to buy it.”
Kalea squinted and fought the urge to look at his face for signs of deception. “How did you buy it?”
“I was in town, blending into plain sight with my ordinary hood on. An old man’s handcart turned over when its wheel broke. I was standing close and reflexively caught it. A few of his pottery pieces fell off, but no major damage occurred. I did my best to hide my face, but he was so happy he handed me a copper right out of his coin purse. Keeping my face low, I went straight to the market to find a present for you, and the books were there. This one stood out to me.”
“I see. I’m glad to hear of your kind deed.”
A flush of pink came to his cheeks with the grin her words caused.
“No one got suspicious of you?”
He shook his head. “No. It was fine.”
“I believe you. Now let’s get back to confession. Think about it hard.”
“I still don’t know.”
“Let’s see… Have you entertained any unclean thoughts?”
“What kind of thought is unclean?”
“Don’t look at me.” He snapped his face away. “Most men have unclean thoughts; it tends to be a universal downfall of theirs. Women can have them too, but they’re also pretty susceptible to jealousy and gossip.”
“But what’s an unclean thought?”
“You don’t know?” She caught herself looking at him. When their eyes met, she snapped her gaze away. “It’s…well…you know. It’s thinking about women and having lustful desires for them.”
“That’s unclean?”
“Shh, not so loud. But yes. Unclean thoughts lead to unclean actions… I said don’t look at me.” His head whipped away again in her peripheral vision. “So would you like to confess any unclean thoughts?”
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