Even Matron Grannice tugged a loose strand of hair into place behind an ear, smoothing it down as he strode to them.
Though busy, Paltry still offered Dart a tired smile. “Be welcome, child. There is nothing to fear here.”
Nodding despite the lace of terror around her heart, Dart shimmied out of her outers. Then after a moment’s hesitation, she stripped bare of all, even her scuffed slippers. There was no reason for shyness with Healer Paltry. Twice yearly, the man gave the girls their physiques, confirming their intact virginity. He was always gentle, teasing with light words, his hands always warm.
“Onto the bench with you, child,” Matron Grannice said with a nudge, bumping her back to the moment.
But Dart found herself frozen in place, knees locked together. “Mistress…”
Paltry cupped her chin. “This will be quick.”
His calming touch released her from the spell of her fear, and she stumbled stiffly to the bench. With gentle directions, she lay back, spreading her arms out and her legs along the joists. Her hands nearly touched the illuminarias of loam and air. Overhead, the fire globes blazed hotly, and below, unseen, Dart felt the stir of the basin’s waters in her own stomach.
Now it would all end.
Paltry leaned over her, holding four thimble-sized jars. “This unguent is made of the blood of the four aspects. You might feel a little tingle, and the corresponding illuminaria will shine brighter if you are accepted. You must pass all four. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes.” She squeezed closed her eyes. In her ears echoed the cries of ravens.
A finger touched her brow four times: top, bottom, left, and right. The points of a cross. Only if she passed would the marks be connected with blue oils, sealing her purity.
Dart shook, knowing that would never happen.
As the fourth mark blessed her forehead, Paltry spoke near her ear. “Now to judge the purity of your spirit and-”
Glass exploded with a shatter. Dart cried out, curling in a ball. Overhead, shards rained down from the chandelier.
Dart felt impacts rattle the underside of the bench. Slivers cut into her back and arms and thighs, like a thousand bee stings.
Matron Grannice yelped, ducking away. Pupp raced in circles around the bench, eyes ablaze, jumping and leaping, as startled as any of them.
All around light blazed from the four illuminaria, near blinding in their brilliance.
Paltry stood, bleeding from lacerations on his face. His eyes were huge. “By all the gods…” he swore under his breath. The light quickly faded from the four exploded illuminaria. “I’ve never seen such a response.”
“What happened?” Matron Grannice asked, accusation in her voice, her eyes fixed on Dart.
“I didn’t… I couldn’t…” Dart said. “I’m sorry.”
Paltry wiped his face, picking out glass, then did the same for Dart. “It’s not her fault. While normally the illuminaria wax only slightly brighter, I’ve witnessed more brilliant displays over the years. Yet nothing of this magnitude. The strength and clarity of her spirit is without question.” Finished with his ministrations, he glanced up at Grannice. “From this radiant response of the illuminaria, I see no need to perform a physique.”
Dart felt a surge of hope. Without an intimate exam, her terrible secret would remain hidden. Perhaps for another half year, until the next physique.
But such hope was dashed with Matron Grannice’s next words. “You must, Healer Paltry. A supplicant before the Oracles must be cleared spiritually and physically.”
Paltry stared at the ruined illuminarias. “Of course, you’re right. But let’s be quick about this. I must study in more detail what happened here.” He waved for Dart to stretch back on the bench. He examined her with swift efficiency, hurried, with none of his usual gentleness.
Dart trembled under his touch as he checked her body from brow to toe. Lastly, he crouched between her spread legs and reached toward the ache in her loins, probing toward the root of her shame. “She’s been bleeding,” he said.
“Her first menstra,” Grannice explained, arms folded.
By now, tears rolled down Dart’s cheeks. She awaited the end of her life.
With a clearing of his throat, Paltry straightened and gained his feet. “Everything appears fine,” he said, patting her inner thigh. “She can attend the night’s ceremony.”
Dart gasped in shock, struggling to speak.
“Up with you then, child,” Matron Grannice said. “Into your clothes.”
Dart stared between the portly woman and the healer as he marked her forehead in blue oil. “I… I passed?”
She could not keep the incredulity out of her voice. Was she healed? Maybe the attack in the rookery had been just some horrible nightmare. She could almost believe it, wanted to believe it. At times over the past days, it had even felt that way. Or had some Grace secretly blessed her, made her pure again?
“Pure,” she repeated aloud. In her heart, the word also meant home and family.
“Yes, yes,” Matron Grannice scolded, “it’s indeed a blessed miracle. Now get yourself dressed. You’ve much to do before the full moon rises.” The matron turned to Paltry. “What of the other girls? Those still in the hall?”
Paltry shook his head. “I can test no others. It will take some days to acquire another four illuminaria. As such, they will not be able to attend this moon’s ceremony.”
Grannice hurried Dart into her clothes. “See what you’ve done, child! Ruined it for all the others!”
“But I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s truly not her fault,” Paltry pledged in her defense.
Dart nodded vigorously, tugging on the last of her clothes. She could only imagine the anger of the remaining thirdfloorers. There would not be another choosing until midwinter.
Frowning deeply, Matron Grannice led the way to the door. Dart hopped after her, trying to get her foot into her last slipper. Pupp, thinking it a game, jumped and nipped at her loose footwear. She shooed him away.
The matron reached the door and tugged it open. As Dart pulled into her slipper, she heard the matron’s announcement and the shocked responses that followed. Wincing, she stood in the shadows, sheltered behind the large woman’s bulk.
Healer Paltry placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and leaned to her ear, speaking low and urgently. “I don’t know what you did with Master Willet, but I promise you I’ll find out.”
Dart gasped. Understanding struck her immediately. She had passed the healing wards on the seventh floor on her way to the rookery. The room tilted, and her vision darkened. Paltry was Willet’s partner. The healer had lied about her purity a moment ago. She remembered his fingers… in her, probing… possibly even appreciating his partner’s bloody handiwork.
A shudder passed through her. She felt violated all over again, her momentary hope dashed into ruins. She felt unmoored, terrified, trapped.
“I’ll be watching you, Dart.” His voice was as gentle as ever, but his fingers dug deeper, painful, threatening. “In the meantime, it seems we both have secrets to keep.”
Matron Grannice spoke above the babble of shocked voices from the hall. “Come, Dart. Night won’t wait on you forever.”
With a small cry, Dart fled the healer’s grasp and into the passageway. Forty pairs of eyes narrowed at her in angry rebuke. None came to congratulate her on the blue cross on her forehead. She felt a bone-deep urge to flee to the nearest privy and scrub the mark off. But for now the cross was all that stood between her and banishment.
She continued down the hall, refusing to look back. She had won back her home for a short time-but was it even worth it?
Laurelle and Margarite met her at the end of the hall. They stared at her as if she had been freshly dredged up from the muddy bottoms of the Tigre.