Page 3 of Six Burning Candles

Clerics are allowed to have relationships outside the church. We are permitted sex and flings and dalliances. It wasn’t that I refrained from pleasures of the flesh—notthat there was a single soul here who caught my fancy OTHER than her—it was that she was the Hierophant’s daughter. Akin to being a knight and trying to sleep with the heir to the throne, her father wouldhavemy head. While Melrosewasn’ta cleric, shewasoff limits. A fact known among the Order: Hierophant St. Augustine was very protective of his daughter. Any cleric worth their salt who wanted any chance of ever doing more than small baby shower blessings and aiding sniffling noses knew to keep their hands away from Melrose St. Augustine.

That knight who was on their knees in full plate armor, tasting her nectar on the first day I met her? She is a guard for the north tower, never to see anything but snow and ice and rock for the rest of her days.

And if I was going to be Hierophant someday, goddess permitting, my hands would stay at a reasonable distance from hertemptinghips.

I dropped my cloak onto her shoulders and cursed myself as I wrapped my arms around to clasp it closed in front for her. Doing so meant my gloves brushed against her exposed collarbone and I felt her shiver even through the leather. It didn’t help that I could smell the floral soap wafting off her hair or feel the warmth seeping out of her skin to fill the air. Melrose straightened, twisting to see who it was dressing her. I pulled away, bowing my head respectfully. “You ought to wear something thicker for the winter solstice.”

“And cover up all my hard work?” She huffed, and yet, she dragged the cloak in tighter around her.

“Maybe designing thin fabric gowns is ill-advised,” I countered as I stood up straight again.

Melrose opened her mouth to talk back, as she always did, but stopped as the vendor popped up with our skewers. Her face immediately brightened and she gushed about how goodthe food smelled. One of my many things that I loved about her was that Melrose St. Augustine wasn’t like other children of powerful people I knew. She was kind to service workers, smiled at babies in the church pews, and did a lot of community service without having to be told. She genuinely liked helping.

And even when I hadn’t asked, she bought me a large skewer full of roasted meats and glazed vegetables. She turned, offering the steaming, glorious collection of roasted items impaled upon a stick. It smelledwonderful.My stomach groaned, desperate to have some as I took it gingerly from her fingers. The first bite was worth the little scorch marks on the edge of my tongue.

Mouths full of rolling smoke like dragons as we tried to eat the burning hot food, we stepped out of the way to allow other people a chance to purchase. She giggled after swallowing, “Maybe it’s ill-advised, but I’m not really a woman for reason or sense.”

You can say that again.

I studied her oval face from behind my skewer. Long, loose curls of chestnut hair, a strong, straight nose, button sized white dots across her satiny ears to match those on her fluffy hips, and plump lips always pulled into a teasing smile. Her honey brown eyes blinked up at me before crinkling at the sides as she smiled bigger. “Come on, don’t tell me you only wear your cleric frock.”

“Frock?” I scoffed.

“It’s got no form! No shape!” She scoffed, waving a hand at me like there was any shape for the dress to hold other than flat. I was skinny. I have alwaysbeenskinny. Orphaned fae dumped on the doorstep of a poor church when my circle disappeared into the night, never to be heard fromagain…plus the whole ‘putting meat on my bones’ was hard. It wasn’t that I had a bad relationship with food.I love food.It just seemed like food didn’t love me. There were many things I couldn’t eat: strawberries, watermelon, red onions, anything coated with paprika (yes, I am very upset about that one), bell peppers, and most types of fish. Any of those would make my body break out in dangerous hives or close off my throat if I didn’t hurry off to a healer.

Unfortunate side effect of one’s throat closing up, not being able to cast magic.

To my delight, my skewer was definitely death free. I could taste the butter, the salt, the pepper, and garlic of course, but it was missing the powder that would certainly end me. When I peaked at hers, I found hers also mysteriously not coated in the usual array of spices that vendors tended to dust their stuff in.

But, unlike you, Melrose St. Augustine, I’m flat as a board.She could wear a potato sack and still be high fashion.

“I have no shape,” I grumbled.

“Pfft, yes you do!” She rolled her eyes, tearing off another piece from her skewer.

“How would you know?” I rebutted.

“Everyone has shape, and good clothes show that off,” Melrose spoke between bites before swallowing. “I could make you something if you’d ever let me see what you’ve got underneath that dirty brown frock.”

“These are cleric robes!” I defended, motioning at my thick, albeit brown, robes that wrapped around the simple, thick wool underdress.

“It’s garb. So bland and tasteless it doesn’t even deserve to be called robes. Robes have more than a hem and a rope belt.”Melrose licked her lips clean. I watched her pink tongue swipe across them, and I felt like Avaris stared deep into my soul from over my shoulder.No better than a hungry wolf staring at a limping lamb.Those honey orbs flickered up to my face and blood rushed to my cheeks. I turned from her, taking a rather robust bite of my food, and chewing it hard as if I could stamp down the feelings roiling in my gut.

“And what would you have me wear? Two silk layers covered in beads and gold?” I charged forward toward the field of bushes and trees that made up a make-shift park. The cathedral was nestled nicely between stone walls and thick trees. A path was carved through the trees toward the main part of the city. However, as Melrose caught up to me, she swiped my arm away from my side and steered me in the direction of the more intimate flower garden. It was a circular tunnel covered in ivy and many wildflowers growing over the awning. The exit spat out in a maze of flower beds, where even in the dead of winter, butterflies and birds roamed about.Glamorous magic. A waste of resources, but who am I to judge? I spent hours enchanting a tapestry, so it never settled lopsided and thus was always perfectly hung. We are all beasts of habit.

At the center stood a circle of stone, the six gods carved into the silvery marble, all with altars for praying at their feet. I bowed my head, but I noticed Melrose stood, frozen in place. When I straightened, I glanced at her in question.

Her eyebrows knitted on her face as she stared deep into Avaris’ sweet expression. Avaris was always depicted as motherly. A tall, robust woman in flowing robes with long hair and a pleasing smile.She looks like home to me.

“Melrose?” I murmured.

“I’d dress you in a single layer of silk, a pearlescent blue with little white floral details like snowflakes,” she breathed, twisting to face me again. “And I force you to dance with meunder the stars in it just so you could see how pretty you look in it.”

“Pretty?” I blinked rapidly but her gaze returned to Avaris without hesitation.

“Do you think Our Lady ever puts someone to rest and regrets it? Regrets taking them from us too early?” She spoke so softly I almost didn’t catch it.Oh.

I stammered for a minute.Because what COULD I say?Her father was the Hierophant. If anyone in all the kingdom knew the sermons and hymns backwards, it would be Melrose.