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away.
    “My name is Mara,” said the girl. She took my hand
and smiled. I could not help but smile back at her dimpled cheeks. She did not
appear the least bit nervous to see this Aidne, and it eased my trepidation.
    “I am Doricha, but my mother calls me Dori.”
    “Then so shall I call you, if you’ll have it. I
can tell we shall be near-sisters in no time.” Mara tucked my hand in the crook
of her elbow and whispered, “Don’t be nervous.”
    “Why? Is not Aidne very stern?”
    “Oh no! She is very stern. And she is
likely to be rough with you as well, considering…but nervousness will not
please her.”
    “Considering what?” I asked, beginning to feel
faint in my sandals.
    “Your mother,” she replied.
    I had not time to ask her more, for we arrived at
Aidne’s chamber. Mara knocked on the wood, and waited until she was bid entry. She
closed the door soundly in my face, and alas, there was no hand-sized crevice
through which to listen. I stood in the hall and shifted in my sandals unsure
if I should knock on the door myself. And all the while, a sinking fear I might
disgrace my mother churned my stomach.
    At last the door was opened, but not by Mara. It
was another devotee, a girl of no more than sixteen winters, with dull red hair
and a surly frown. She gestured for me to enter.
    “Come close where I can see you.” I turned my head
and found a woman of advanced age. Her pale hair had faded to grey near her
temples, but her face bore the beauty of our race like a shield to battle. Faint
lines etched the skin around her mouth and eyes. Those eyes were sharp and not
kind when she turned to me.
    “Step quick, girl! The gods wait for no one, least
of all you.” I recognized that voice as the faceless woman who had almost
denied us entrance to the temple.
    Oh, how I fought the urge to scurry to her side,
like a kit cleaves to its mother when nipped. Instead, I forced myself to walk
at a sedate pace and tried my best to emulate my mother’s graceful sway. In the
corner of the room, Mara shifted her weight to the balls of her feet as if she
could force me to hurry.
    “Same eyes,” grunted the old woman. “More green
than grey. Pah!” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “That’s his hair,
too, I’ll wager.” She scrutinized every inch of my face. I felt my flesh crawl
under the touch of her gaze and I resisted the urge to scratch my nose.
    Aidne circled me, slowly like a serpent. “Well,
strip off your robes.”
    I must have displayed my shock, because as I felt
my brows draw up, hers narrowed until I could see the glimmer of her black
pupils. She hates me , I thought. My arms felt wooden as I moved
to unpin my woven pleats and my cheeks burned fiercer than the hottest flame.
    “Here, I will help her,” Mara volunteered. She
scooted to my side and I felt better to have her step between Aidne and me, as
if she could shield me from the old woman’s displeasure. Aidne moved away from
us to scold the red-haired girl.
    “She despises me,” I hissed. My eyes darted beyond
Mara’s pale pink shoulder to where Aidne muttered.
    “Perhaps,” whispered Mara, unclasping my robes. “She
was devastated when your mother left the temple, or so they say.”
    “She knew my mother?” I risked another furtive
glance. Aidne frowned at me and strode over to the pair of us. The sullen
red-haired girl glared at us. Mara bit her lip and glided back to the wall like
a shadow.
    “Drop your hands,” Aidne commanded. I realized I
was clutching my robes over my body. Well, if she was determined to hate me, I
would not give her the satisfaction of seeing me cringe.
    I lowered my hands, and my robes followed. The
soft woven material puddled at my feet. The room was cold, but I would not show
her my discomfort. Chill bumps grew on my legs. I thrust out my budding breasts
and lifted my chin, feeling my nipples pucker. My vision, I affixed to a far
off spot on the chamber wall, as my audacity did not extend to