Noelle of Nisos by Elsha Hawk (fiction book recommendations TXT) 📖

Vivienne finished braiding the fine beads and yellowed satin ribbons into her daughter’s hair. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“You look beautiful!” They embraced. It was one of those hugs where everything; gratitude, love, forgiveness, and goodbye were all wrapped up together. Vivienne tried to compose herself before she stood out of the embrace, squeezed her daughter’s hands, and silently left.

It was customary to give the bride an hour alone before her ceremony to consider whether she truly desired to spend the rest of her life caring for one man and their offspring. Some brides really did decide that a life of housewife duties was not for them. And to this day, there is no penalty for cold feet during this hour of solitude.

Both Vivienne and Cyrus had higher hopes for their daughter. In fact, the entire community had higher hopes. Public opinion was that Noelle had chosen to waste her life and gifts on one man, gifts and talent that could have been better used to serve the community.

Noelle stood at the window in the bride’s tower. It faced the south where Amos had built a small house for the two of them. It was a beautiful place to raise children. As long as you kept an eye on them so near the rocky cliffs and the sea.

Amos was a fabulous constructor. He could frame a house in a day, pack it with the mud and sand mixture the next, and whitewash it on the third. He would create open balcony rooms just for fun. All of his windows were uniquely designed and placed to let in the best light or breeze. He was admired by many.
At least he can still be himself. The thought crossed Noelle’s mind before she had time to stop it. It’s not that she regretted giving up the priestesshood for Amos. She clearly loved him. It was rather that she wasn’t entirely keen on being a housewife. She liked to walk the edge of the northern cliff and peer across the vast sea at the horizon, dreaming of great things. Inside her was a sense of adventure that would not let her sit idle.
Memory, the High Priestess, had told her that she had an incredible gift; that she could see in her a spark of something that could be exactly what the people needed. She claimed that with proper nurturing, Noelle could become the ‘Visionary” she had been looking for these past years.

But not if she chose marriage.

Choosing marriage meant she could never be pure enough for the temple. But it would be wrong to secretly love him while spending her days serving the High Priestess and the people. Her heart would be torn. If that was wrong, then her choice to marry, even though she may have a gift, was right.

Defiance held her chin up, spine straight; long, lean, graceful as a ballerina in her delicate, off-white hand-me-down gown. She wasn’t sure if Amos admired her rebellious streak. He’d certainly never said so. Her cunning gray eyes sparkled in the high noon sun.

Turning from the window, Noelle spied a small ceramic table with a washbasin and a pitcher of water. The table contained a small drawer. Nothing was ever created here that did not serve a purpose, so she opened it. A book rested inside, nearly filling the space. The Tome. The laws and legends of the Avan. There were only a handful of copies of the book because paper was so rare. The ancients had cut down the first trees in the middle of the island to build the temple structure and make paper for books. Today there are a few scrubby trees, but nothing so grand as centuries ago.

Noelle marveled at the delicate pages and the hand-inked letters. The book fell open to a passage about marriage, obviously well-read. She chose to skip this passage and instead sought out the page containing her life verse, the one she would have taken in the Temple just a few short months ago.

“The true calling of one’s heart determines their place in the world.”

Noelle was sure her true calling was neither in temple servitude, nor confined to the white plaster walls of a home. She sighed, closed the book, and slid it back into its drawer.

She thought back to yesterday when she and her groom shared the traditional holy-water bath. A screen divided the two pools, blocking the view of each other, but the couple could speak about their future, truly alone, unashamed, uninhibited, just like it will be in their own home.

“Are you comfortable, Noelle?” Hearing her name breathed from between his lips sent shivery waves of desire from her head to her toes, followed by goosepimples that the hot water could not soothe away. She knew his question meant more than just physical comfort in the porcelain and marble bath. He was asking her if she was comfortable with him, with the idea of them together forever.

“Yes, Amos. I am completely content.” She knew then that she had to try this life, be with him, not the temple. This was real.

“I promise, you will have nothing to worry about. I will always prepare for you.”

At first, she blushed bright pink, thinking that he meant physically prepare his body for her, but then she realized he meant take care of her.

“You mean care for me?”

“Until my last breath.” Perhaps he was nervous, she had decided. His speech sounded too formal to be completely relaxed. What did he have to be nervous about? Noelle dismissed it as pre-wedding jitters, or perhaps arousal at being so close to her. She grinned to herself. If he wasn’t aroused, then he would be.

“This bath makes my skin feel so smooth. Every inch. I just want to touch myself.”

“Noelle,” Amos breathed.

“Hmm?” she asked innocently.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He was begging now, asking her to stop tormenting him. She decided she was torturing herself, too, so she acquiesced.

“Or you, me? I know tomorrow will be a glorious day and late tomorrow night, even better.”

During these thoughts, a smile had graced Noelle’s lips and a blush colored her cheeks befitting the exuberant bride. If she’d had a looking glass, she would not have recognized herself.

Tiny bells chimed outside her door denoting that the hour of solitude was at an end. A priestess entered, carrying the small set of hanging bells. She placed them on the table and smiled at Noelle. This young woman had chosen the temple just last spring. She had been in this very room and left behind a very disappointed groom. Her name was Lidia.

“What have you decided, fair bride?”

Noelle was sure her smile was expectant; that the light in this young woman’s eyes was hopeful her decision was to join their order. In fact, the High Priestess probably sent this youthful lady to tend to her as a physical persuasion for the temple. The message was clear: See how much you would have in common; age, situation. She would suit you.

Hope glinted in her hazel eyes that she made as warm as possible. Noelle had enjoyed Lidia’s company during her study at the temple, but the young woman also had a tendency to sit too close to her and offered to share her food or quarters with Noelle. Here she stood, awaiting the moment she could speak some scripted words of welcome the High Priestess had made her memorize for this occasion. Noelle took a slight satisfaction in crushing that hope. It was only too bad she had to crush Lidia’s heart as well.

“I shall marry Amos.” She could not stop the smile that crept across her face as his name crossed her lips.

“Very well.” Lidia gave a small bow. Noelle felt sure it was to mask her disappointment. When she rose again, the smile was still fixed on her face but the light was gone from her eyes. She pinned the canary yellow veil to Noelle’s scalp with precision, concentrating on its placement in order to avoid meeting the bride’s steady gaze. Her rehearsed prayer to keep the demons at bay came out sounding a bit rushed. Perhaps it would not ward off the demons as effectively without her heart behind it.

Thinking only of the ceremony ahead, Noelle followed the priestess down the stairs to the chapel area. Butterflies that hadn’t shown up before, made an appearance now. She was about to reveal her choice to those gathered for the ceremony. When the doors opened, they would all react. She decided to keep her eyes on her future husband and no one else. After all, he was the one that mattered.

An ornate door swung silently on well-oiled hinges. A collective gasp was heard as all eyes peered inside. Setting her eyes on the overjoyed face of her Amos, she stepped over the threshold and confidently down the aisle between the ornate columns and seated guests.

At the front knelt the entire host of priestesses. Lidia walked demurely before her swaying an incense burner to ward off demons from her sacred path to her beloved. She affixed the burner to its pole and turned to watch the bride ascend the two steps to the dias. The High Priestess was seated before her. As she rose, Noelle knelt, the picture of humility. When they rose, the attendant had handed a silver blade to the elegantly berobed woman. Noelle looked up at her face. She had aged quite a bit in the few months since she last saw her at the temple confirmation ceremony. It seemed impossible that the woman could have actually aged, but her face did seem to have more wrinkles at the edges and dark circles deepened her eyes.

“Behold, all who gather here, a young lady ready to become a woman and cleave herself to a man!” Did Noelle detect a hint of scorn in her voice?

“When you are ready..” The High Priestess beckoned for Noelle to again kneel, this time turned so her profile was to the people. She wanted to look up at Amos, but knew that doing so would risk her neck. She dutifully looked at the marble swirls of the floor. A hand pulled her braided hair up, and not too gently. Cold metal near her neck made her tiny neck hairs stand on end. Then in a few swift and strand-pulling strokes, her braid was cut off. Somewhere an onlooker muffled a sob. She wondered if it were her mother.

She stood and backed up two steps, allowing the High Priestess to wave her childhood locks above her head. Then in a swift motion, the braid caught fire and disappeared. The people marveled, a few gasps accidentally let out. No matter how many weddings they had attended, the hair sacrifice was always a shock to watch. Being on the dias with her this year, Noelle had a front row seat. It all happened so quickly, she wasn’t sure how the hair was consumed, nor where the flame came from. It was enough to nearly believe the High Priestess did have magical powers. But secretly, she never had before. Shame at questioning her Highness’s authority burned her cheeks, but it must have appeared sweet to Amos who gave her a huge smile.

A beaded necklace, old as the