Kaye took a deep breath, drawing the pain out of her back, and shifted the cloak over her cicada-like wings to ease the pressure. She let the pain out slowly, bleeding into the ground through her feet, as the next inductee was whipped, then squeezed Kindra’s hand.

“Priestess duties,” she whispered in her sister’s ear, and strode through the crowd to the center of the village. She pulled the doorflap aside and ducked into the High Priestess’ tent before she allowed her whole body to sag.

The oil for the naming ceremony warmed in a clay pot near the hearth and had almost reached the right consistency. She dipped a finger into the jug of vision wine next to it and tasted. Not enough wormwood. She found the small packet and added another pinch. The wormwood would help the chief see a vision in the new warrior's marks and give them their Eoin-blessed names. A warrior with a weak name—or no name at all, Aleda forbid—was not a warrior in the eyes of the God.

With another glance around the tent, she heaved a sigh. Priestess duties indeed. Kaye was a priestess in all except name. She could heal a warrior, midwife a child, prepare the ceremonies, and even control the energy of Aleda—and still the High Priestess ignored her. Every other priestess-apprentice in her generation had been confirmed, despite their weaknesses, and Kaye waited as patiently as she could through the silence, waiting for her turn. What had she done wrong? What did the High Priestess still need to see from her? If only Kaye knew what to fix, she’d do it immediately. If only she knew.

She should have made the blood-bond with the tribe before Kindra did. She’d been training longer.

Kaye shoved the anger and jealousy down as soon as it reared, hoping Kindra was too preoccupied to notice. Between the pain and pride and self-absorption…no, that wasn’t fair. Kindra had worked hard to become a warrior. Had wanted it more than Kaye ever wanted to be a priestess. Kindra deserved to celebrate today.

Satisfied with the preparations, Kaye crossed the fire circle in the middle of the village and ducked inside the Odion family tent. A small cook fire was banked in the center, the dirt floor covered by rugs. The smell of steeping herbs she had prepared for her sister's wounds covered the normal smell of mud and leaves tracked in underfoot.

Kaye had changed into clothes already stained with blood when her sister returned, back bloody and torn from the whips. Kindra sunk face-first onto her cot and untied the strings holding her halter top together. Thick drops of blood fell from the strings onto her mark. The sight made Kaye's wings ache, and shame welled up at her jealousy.

She grabbed the bowl of herbs and submerged a clean cloth in it. "I'm proud of you," she said and spread the cloth over the bleeding mark.

Kindra turned her head. "What is that?"

"Poplar for the pain and Mother's Heart to stop the bleeding." Kaye lifted the cloth and dunked it in the bowl. A tannic, coppery smell rose as the water turned pink. "It should help you get through the rest of the ceremony."

Kaye replaced the cloth and Kindra's eyelid flinched. "Will the others get it?"

"Of course. The mark must be clean to see a vision, and if they don't have poplar, they will at least have willow bark."

She wiped the cloth across Kindra’s back, softly intoning a chant to the Mother Goddess, Aleda, to give strength to the mark. She dunked the cloth again and spread it over the wounds. “Why didn’t you tell me about your vision?”

“Because it’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Kaye shook her head. “That was a true vision. All the other boys dreamt what they wanted to see. Eoin has a plan for you.” Again that wretched jealousy tugged at her, but Kindra didn’t seem to notice.

“Does he plan to throw me off the cliff?”

Kaye dunked the cloth again. “Visions are never literal. He caught you when you fell. He said he would teach you to fly. Whatever storm comes from the north, you will be victorious.” She pushed a piece of short, golden hair behind her sister’s ear. “Perhaps you’ll fail at first, but Eoin will make sure you win in the end.”

Kindra didn’t reply, so Kaye cleaned her back in silence. The wound was raw and seeping blood, but as it healed, the mark would become as much a part of Kindra as her piercing eyes or the determined set of her jaw. Still, Kaye was glad the priestess blood-bond wasn’t so violent. Assuming she was ever confirmed.

Kindra interrupted her thoughts. “Have you ever seen a vision?”

“I have no talent for visions.”

Perhaps that was the problem. The High Priestess was often overcome by visions, but she’d always told Kaye it was a blessing to be spared the sight. “I’m sure I’ll have one before my ceremony.”

“When will that be?”

Kaye turned away to dump the cloth in the reddening bowl. Her throat was tight when she answered. “I don’t know.”

“It must be soon. At the Festival of Aleda, maybe?”

“Maybe.”

Kaye put the bowl on the ground and walked to the other side of the tent to straighten Kindra’s ceremonial outfit where it lay on their mother’s cot. It was deer hide, with a high neckline in front and a low-cut back to show off her sister’s new mark. In the center of the chest was a beaded horse over a spear—the mark of their ancestor, Ian Odion. Kaye twisted one of the beads until the tension in the thread threatened to snap. She didn’t know what she’d failed to do to be confirmed, but the Warrior’s Ceremony was not the time to ask the High Priestess.

“Kaye?” Kindra said softly.

Kaye smoothed her hand over the beaded symbol and turned to her sister, once again shoving her emotions down where Kindra wouldn’t feel them.

“You’ve stopped bleeding. I’ll help you dress.”

Kindra studied her a long moment, but nodded and pushed herself off the cot. Kaye was grateful she didn’t make a big deal about the priestess ceremony. It was Kindra’s day to celebrate.

Kaye grabbed the shirt, but Kindra wrapped her arms around Kaye’s neck. “I’m proud of you, too. I nearly fainted from the pain—I thought for sure you’d cry out.”

“Never,” Kaye said, and Kindra kissed her cheek. The pain had been enormous, but Kaye had gathered Aleda’s energy around her for protection.

Together they managed to get the shirt over Kindra’s raw back without getting blood on it, and Kaye mopped at the cuts that re-opened in the process. Kindra had changed into clean pants when the door flap opened and their mother walked in. Loria Odion looked very much like her warrior daughter, from her sharp eyes to her hard mouth. Neither of them smiled much since Fennec’s death, but today Loria’s eyes were softer, her jaw no longer clenched in disapproval. Today she looked proud.

“It appears Eoin has given His grace to His family once again.” She pulled Kindra into a hug. “You’re a very skinny warrior.”

A cheer sounded beyond the door and Kaye looked at the bloody mess in the tent. “You better get out there—it sounds like they’ve already begun toasting. I’ll clean up and be out shortly.”

“I can help,” Kindra said.

“No.” Kaye began gathering the bloody clothes. “You go celebrate. I’ll be out soon.”

Kindra hesitated, but Loria tugged her arm. “Kaye will find us when she’s ready.”

They left, and Kaye pressed the balls of her hands to her eyes and took a deep breath before she finished cleaning and changed.