I slept more than I was awake over the next few days. Fellen didn’t sleep as much as me, so when we were awake at the same time she filled me in on what she had learned. The whisper women had prepared the tent in case we completed the trial and—Fellen didn’t say it out loud but the implication was clear in her tone—they had been tracking our progress. Apparently, all eight of the whisper women living in the Statue Garden had appeared as soon as both of our offerings were accepted. One of them had been Hana, the whisper woman who had given us the goddess’s decree and retrieved the healer from the Seedling Palace. Ressia judged that Fellen was recovering well too, but that her limp might return on bad days.

Our supplies were retrieved. Ressia encouraged us to sort through them on our own, so it was slow going. I only had one good arm to work with and we both moved slowly because of pain and fatigue. Still, the relief I felt when I finally held my sling again made the effort worth it. Even Fellen didn’t look like she was ready to throw the sling I made her into a river anymore. As long as we had our slings we could defend ourselves. Feed ourselves. I promised myself I would never have mine taken away from me again.

Once we were recovered enough to be able to sit up without help, and stay awake most of the day, Ressia pulled out inking tools from her bag. Fellen and I looked over at her after our latest round of playing Recall. I had identified the location she had been describing on my first guess—it wasn’t as if the tribe’s cooking yard was a terribly difficult location to identify. So now I was up by five to her three points, and if I got two more I would win, but Fellen would probably try to stump me by describing people. She was better at obscuring who she was describing than when she gave descriptions of places, and she was better at identifying them too.

Ressia smiled at us. “Finish your game while I get set up. You’re well enough now that I can give you your marks. Normally, one of the whisper women here would do it, but they’re busy preparing for the cold season, and I have steadier hands when it comes to this sort of thing.”

My eyebrows drew together in confused unease. “Our marks for what?”

Ressia chuckled and shook her head before she realized I wasn’t making a weak joke. Then her tone of amused exasperation grew more pronounced as she placed one hand in front of her, palm up. “You passed the goddess’s trial.” The other hand. “You reached the Grove and made an offering.” She brought her hands together. “Both of those have placed you among the few who receive Flickermark’s marking to honor your accomplishment.”

Fellen swallowed. “I thought you only got the title of Realmwalker if you completed all four trials.”

The healer snorted. “And how do you think the goddess keeps track of who completed what?” In answer to her own question she tapped the jar of ink meaningfully.

It made sense. The goddess wouldn’t waste time watching those that passed one trial just to see if they passed another or all four. Markings made things easy.

I asked, “What is it?”

Ressia drew her pinkie finger down the middle of her chin. “Three dots, smallest to largest. Like the stars this place is so known for. You’ll still have to get it sanctified after this, but I heard that goes quick.”

Fellen’s eyes went round. “Sanctified?”

Ressia shrugged one shoulder. “Make it official. I don’t know the exact process.” Her lips quirked back into a smile. “Did you want to finish your game? Or should we get started?”

We got started. Fellen and I would remember where to pick up later. That worked in my favor too. Fellen tried to make me go first, but I convinced her that a worthy rival wouldn’t make the person in the lead go first. I wanted to see the healer’s work before I let her mark my face.

Ressia shifted to spot with the most light in the tent before helping Fellen reach the spot in front of her. It didn’t take long before Ressia was ready with her bone shard and ink.

She lifted her eyebrows in gentle inquiry. “Ready?”

After a brief moment, Fellen nodded, shoulders tense. “Ready.”

Ressia smiled at her. “Relax. And hold still.”

She made quick work of it. The healer’s hands were as steady making quick incisions and applying the ink as she was preparing herbs and treating wounds. Fellen sat rock still, even though I could tell she wanted to flinch away from the stinging pain of the tiny cuts caused. When Ressia wiped away the last of the blood and excess ink, I saw the three circles exactly as she described, before she smeared a healing salve over Fellen’s chin.

She patted Fellen’s upper arm. “You did well. The salve should help it heal fast and clean.” Fellen tried to say something but flinched and stopped. Ressia nodded. “You might have to give it a day or two before it’s healed enough for you to talk some.”

Ressia washed off the bone shard and got a new rag to apply the ink before she helped me over to where Fellen had been sitting. It felt like I was practically carried the few feet it took to get there. Irritation made me clench my jaw and I had to consciously remind myself to unclench it so that I was ready for the inking process.

I also made a conscious effort to keep my shoulders relaxed.

Ressia sat across from me. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

All in all, it wasn’t that different from when Rawley had done the spear head on my wrist. Though it was uncomfortable to have the healer’s pretty brown eyes peering so closely at me, and I still wasn’t used to being touched by others. I had gotten relatively used to Fellen out of necessity, but whenever Ressia adjusted the position of my head, or rested her hand on the side of my face, it felt like my skin was burning. I tried to tell myself that it was just like when she checked or treated our wounds, but doing those things barely counted as touching someone—they were just doing the job.

Ressia didn’t comment on my flushed skin when she finished with the marking and, while Fellen probably would have, she couldn’t speak. The tent was blessedly silent as Ressia cleaned up and put away the inking tools. I distracted myself from my embarrassment, as my skin returned to its normal color, by trying to figure out what plants she had used in the salve.

--

They brought us to the Grove three days later to sanctify the marks. It was surreal to be supported by full-fledged whisper women on either side. I didn’t miss that it was two of the youngest whisper women of the group that did the work, however. The one on my left kept her gaze coolly forward while the one my right couldn’t seem to decide between jealousy and disbelief when she glanced my way.

That broke through the dreamlike quality of the experience—they might be what I aspired to be, and I didn’t know what they had gone through to get there, but I refused to let them act like I didn’t deserve what I got.

It still hurt a bit to talk, but it wasn’t nearly enough to keep me quiet. “I would think you, better than most, would know better than to question the goddess’s judgment.” Left’s jaw clenched and Right’s gaze fixed on the trees looming in front of us. I tipped my head in Flickermark’s direction. “Besides, if you want the same dots on your chin the ravines are right over there. I’m sure if a ten and twelve year old can do it, fully fledged whisper women have nothing to flinch at.”

They tensed, but they didn’t fling me from them like I knew they wanted to. They had some dignity and discipline at least. Once we reached the center of the ring of giant trees I deliberately stepped away from the pair and knelt on the ground under my power. My legs threatened to wobble and ached, and the claw wound on my back twinged badly, but I kept the movement smooth while staring them down. I cast one last silent promise at their backs when they walked away.

This is just the beginning of me becoming better than you.

The pair gave me quick glares when they brought Fellen to the Grove next, a little rougher than necessary, and I resolved that they would get a more…tactile punishment before I left the Statue Garden. After all we’d been through, Fellen didn’t deserve to have that slight look of fear in her eyes so soon.

The head whisper woman of the Statue Garden stepped into the Grove as soon as Fellen settled next to me and made a gesture of dismissal at the pair that brought us. They left. The head whisper woman looked about as old as Grandmother or Old Lily, but she wasn’t as stout as them. She was tall, and her whole body seemed made of contrasting straight lines—straight thin nose, square jaw, poised shoulders. Her outfit was the same as Hana’s had been and her wavy gray hair was cut short, but the left side had been shaved away to reveal the large interlocking diamonds curving around her ear. The only thing that might be called frail about her was her skin. Fellen had told me her name was Maybur.

She opened up a pouch at her side with precise movements and pulled out a smaller version of Grandmother’s bowl. Then she opened another pouch and flicked a pinch of green powder into the bowl. Out came her prayer needle next and she dragged it across her mark before swiping the blood into the bowl with two fingers. We watched, wide eyed and silent, as she mixed the blood and green powder with her hand before stepping within reach of us.

She had a coarse voice. “Goddess, these two ask for your boon of the true mark of Flickermark, so that all who see them might know how they honored you and the Beloved. Please grant me the power to give them their trial’s reward.”

Maybur swiped the mixture over our chins without a word of warning. I didn’t even have time to twist away. One moment she was speaking and the next I had a deep green mixture covering my chin. Fellen and I shared a look of shock, which was what allowed us to watch the mixture flake off each other’s chins and leave behind a mark that glittered like the night sky overhead—before the glitter also faded.

The head whisper woman graced us with a few more words. “A swipe of blood over the mark will be enough to prove the truth of it, should anyone be foolish enough to question it.” Her gaze went flinty. “Make sure you continue to prove yourselves worthy of them.”

Then she turned on her heel and left.

“Does she hate us?” Fellen whispered.

I didn’t answer her. That didn’t sound quite right to me, but it also didn’t matter. What mattered was that no one was appearing to help us back to the tent. Fellen noticed our predicament a few moments later.

“Are we supposed to stay here?”

I shook my head. “No. But if we could in the state we were in before, we can make it work now.”

Fellen bit her lip. “What if we reopen our wounds?”

Her point soured my mood further. It was irritating that I couldn’t simply bask in the awe of what just happened, irritating that just by refusing to come back the two whisper women put us in a difficult situation, irritating—even if I didn’t want to admit it—that I had probably been the one to prompt them to that decision.

Fellen didn’t need to pay for that.

It didn’t matter if I reopened my wounds; they would take longer to heal, but I wouldn’t die. And I might not have the desperation and adrenaline that got me through our trial, but I definitely had more than enough anger.

“Stay here. I’ll go get Ressia, and she’ll be able to help you back.”

I struggled to my feet. My back flared more painfully than before and my legs felt sapped of all strength, but I stood.

“Gimley,” I looked back at Fellen and she continued, “Thank you.”

My throat closed up. I didn’t know how to respond to that—I barely knew how to process what she said without denying it outright—so I just nodded and used it as fuel to make the feelings of injustice and irritation swirling in my chest to burn hotter.

I walked. And I bled, but I didn’t fall over. Everything narrowed to the patch ground in front of my feet, and willing my foot to step on it. I knew that if I had waited a few more days to build up strength by doing small laps around the tent with Ressia, or if I had someone to support me, I wouldn’t have ripped open my wounds. But I couldn’t and didn’t, and that flared the anger higher.

I walked and everything hurt—but I didn’t fall over.

I was stopped short by something in front of me. Assuming it was a tree I forced myself to step to the side in order to go around it, but it stepped with me. I dragged my gaze up and found myself looking into the nonchalant gaze of Hana, the whisper woman who had taken everything from us in the ravines. She had been leaning against the trunk of one of the pine trees before she stepped to block me. In that moment, she wasn’t nearly as intimidating as she was before.

I pointed behind me. “Help her.”

She looked over my shoulder. “Why should I?”

“Help her.”

She shrugged. “I don’t see any reason to.” Hana smiled down at me. “But you’re interesting. How about I help you?”

She grabbed my wrist—and I had the barest moment to register that we were standing in the tree’s shadow before it felt like I was falling and everything went dark.