Awenela places her hands together next to her head. “Euu, she and Lydy would get along so well.” She says to ?nnywella, who has just sat down at the table in the loft with the others.

  “Why’s that?” ?nnywella asks.

  Awenela takes Faey’s arm, holding it up before ?nnywella. “This is lovely, isn’t it? She knitted this herself. Look at the details in the cable patterns on the arms—they're even more detailed on the chest and back.”

  “They are certainly lovely; you did an excellent job.” ?nnywella has never had much of an interest in knitting or in the making of clothes in general. In the past, someone else had made and repaired all her clothing—usually Arka prior to her marriage; now the work is split between Awenela, Enlynn, and Ede.

  “How long have you been knitting for, ?ppolonia?” Awenela runs her hand up and down the sleeve of Faey’s sweater, inspecting every braid, admiring the detail by touch.

  “Maybe six months; I started shortly after I joined g?ri’Seliani’s coven—I needed a hobby.” Faey answers. The first two months of her time as a priestess had been horrifically boring. One day she had been looking through the library for something—anything—that would interest her, only to spot Gilg knitting by the fire; she decided that knitting would be more fruitful than reading, and she asked her to teach her—Gilg had happily obliged.

  “What!” says Enlynn. “How much time do you spend knitting? Do you just eat, sleep, and knit?”

  “Maybe five hours a day. We really don’t do that much; G?ri’Seliani is asleep in her chair most of the time.”

  “Do you not have weddings to do? Anything to keep you busy?” Enlynn continues, her shock moving from Faey’s quickly developed knitting skills to the sheer amount of downtime the priestesses at the college have.

  “Word spread pretty quickly that g?ri’Seliani doesn’t do weddings—though this didn’t really affect anything; most people don’t even get married under Our Lady. Usually poorer folk get married under the Lady of the Caldera [1] and those with money go back to their hometown and are married under the deity of the priestess there.” Faey explains. “The only people who get married under Luhnylla—”

  Faey goes silent, noticing her slip, and the rustling of paper fills the room, quickly broken by Floryana slamming her fist against the desk before mumbling curses to herself as she gathers the letters from the floor.

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  “are the Hersts.” Pointing to ?nnywella, Faey finishes her sentence.

  ?nnywella nods. “The only time we didn’t lead to the entire nation splitting into what it is now. So we won’t be getting married under anyone but her anytime.”

  “I’m surprised you aren’t married yet, vela’Herst.” says Faey.

  Enlynn and Awenela give Faey a sidelong glance, both concerned with the chance this puts ?nnywella in a mood.

  ?nnywella puts her cigarette out in the ashtray on the table and lights another. “You can call me Gekaryna, ?ppolonia. I have been with the same man since I was quite young. He’s a carpenter and is currently abroad with his father on a commission. I intend to discuss marriage when he gets back... but as of right now, I have heard from him twice since he left...” She purses her lips around the cigarette, grinding her back teeth. “And will be giving him a very stern talking to when he returns and have him build his own un-upholstered couch—a bench, if you will—for him to sleep on in the courtyard; a night for each unanswered letter.”

  “When did you last hear from him?” Faey asks.

  “About two years ago.” ?nnywella knows the letter is upstairs in the drawer of her bedside table with the rest of what Sor?n has sent her, but she isn’t exactly sure when it's dated.

  Faey keeps digging; this is the type of drama you do not get at the college. “Has he only sent you letters? I would think a carpenter would send the occasional wooden gift.”

  “He sent me a wooden bird about six maidens after he left.” ?nnywella can feel Enlynn’s smirk growing beside her.

  “What kind of bird?”

  Enlynn bursts out laughing, getting a swift kick from ?nnywella under the table.

  Faey looks at the two confused, aware she is out of the loop on something. “I don’t see what’s so funny about a wood—”

  “Gekaryna! I HAVE COME TO A CONCLUSION!” Floryana shouts from below, interrupting Faey.

  Footnotes

  [1] Aelura (pronounced eye-LOO-rah) or the Lady of the Caldera, is the liminal of the Crown Caldera, representing the health of the ecosystem within the caldera. Unlike traditional deities, who represent universal flows, Aelura is bound to the Caldera; because of this her appearance is consistently that of a well-developed woman of average height in a flowing dress which will change shade to match the water; pale alabaster skin, platinum blonde hair, and blue eyes which—like her dress—change color.

  She can commonly be seen in the aptly named Aelura’s Strait lying on rocks—typically nude; many efforts have been made to convince her to do otherwise by disgruntled parents, but she has yet to listen—or along the edge of the caldera flirting with passing men.

  There are usually between 10 and 15 drowning deaths each year attributed to Aelura; if a woman—who was married under her—suspects her husband of adultery, she will leave an offering, typically of fruit or honey, to Aelura; in return, Aelura will attempt to seduce the husband. If her attempt is successful, she will drown the man in the caldera for breaking his oath.

  It is commonly believed in the story of the Lyhtr?ri W?cce, Aelura guided the princess’s paper boat to the shore.