Serra

Serra knew her mother was disappointed. She sat silently while the adults spoke.

“You’re sure, there’s no possibility she might have a small or a latent talent?” Her mother, the High Priestess, spoke with natural power in her voice.

It wasn’t fair, The Orchid Festival was supposed to be about beauty. Serra didn’t feel beautiful today.

“I’m sorry, my lady.” The Matron of the Garden sounded like it was her fault that Serra had tested poorly.

The Matron was the third person to test Serra for magic today. All of them were sure she didn’t have any. The rest of her year mates had been tested as well, all of the ten year olds had some semblance of a spark. All of them except Serra.

“You tested her yourself?” The High Priestess demanded.

Serra had expected to be a great sorceress one day, or at least to be able to call the fire. A priestess who couldn’t even call fire could never be High Priestess.

“Yes, my lady, there is no mistake.” The Matron confirmed. “I tested her myself.”

Both women turned towards the wayward child in question.

“Well, at least she is pretty enough for court.” Serra’s mother lifted her daughter’s chin with one painted fingernail.

Court? Serra’s spirit lifted, but she didn’t let her face show it.

“I’ll make the necessary arrangements.” The Matron promised. “Five years of schooling with the princesses and she will be a credit to us.”

The princesses. Serra barely contained a gasp. Her mother noticed.

“She had better already be a credit to the temple.” The High Priestess said. “Behave yourself and learn your lessons well. You can’t help what the goddess has decreed for you. I suppose I will need to look elsewhere for my heir. Go, child. The festival awaits you.”



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