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[center][color=lemonchiffon][i]"This is of grave importance, child." The High Priest of Aurelia stood before Tia for the first time in nearly a month, his voice a balm as it washed over her - even as his words squeezed vice-like around her heart. "We can trust no one else."[/i][/color][/center]
Tingara Tomae, sun priestess, daughter of Aelios, servant of Aurelia, sat refined and demur within the gilded carriage as it trundled down the path to Dawnhaven. And if there were still traces of salt on her cheeks, hastily wiped away before they could dry in tracks below her eyes, well... there was no one to see it, anyway. She tightened her shaking hands in her lap and forced herself to breathe as deeply as she could. The air caught in her ruined throat.

Tia squeezed her eyes shut, willing away another wave of emotion that built in her chest. She'd spent the journey unmoving, as if she could hold very still and freeze her emotions in place, as if she could turn herself to stone, resilient against the torrent that always seemed to swirl around her.

She was not a wailing child anymore, underfed and touch starved and [i]desperate[/i] for a kind word. She would serve, as she was tasked.

And one day, when she returned to the capital, perhaps the High Priest would look upon her with pride again. Perhaps he would not frown at the shredded rasp of her voice. Perhaps his eyes would not narrow when someone whispered [i]sun-touched[/i] or [i]chosen[/i] or [i]morning's daughter[/i] when they saw her pale hair and gruesome scars.

[color=lemonchiffon][center][i]"My son is stubborn and prideful, with delusions of righteousness," the queen said as she lounged in her high-backed chair. "He will likely regard you with some suspicion as a member of the clergy. Make your perfunctory introductions, and then stay out of his way. Make yourself useful in the settlement, serve, heal, comfort its people - the prince will come to you, eventually." Tia kept her eyes downcast as she heard the shifting of the queen's gown, the slight tinkling of her jewelry as she stood and approached.

"He does love a project."[/i][/center][/color]
"My lady," a voice called from outside the carriage - the coachman. "We approach Dawnhaven." The gasp that escaped Tia was involuntary, as she tried to rein in her despair at being sent away again, [i]cast aside, a disappointment, useless -[/i]

"Shall we first make for the royal residence?" He was an older gentleman, peering through the thin window at the front of the carriage with pale, watery eyes. His eyebrows pulled together the slightest bit as he looked at her, and Tia wondered what he saw. 

She shook her head in answer.

The coachman pressed his lips together. Then nodded.

"To the temple, then."

Soon enough, the sounds of civilization trickled into the carriage, commerce and creation and [i]life[/i]. She heard more than a few mutterings as she passed, their party no doubt drawing attention. Tia hadn't been given a choice in this matter. She'd been placed in a grand carriage with attendants, riders, and guards - nearly a dozen total - surrounding her on all sides in a grand procession. They'd even stopped an hour outside of the settlement so that the horses could be cleaned and the carriage polished until it shined under the moon's light.

[i]'Befitting your station,'[/i] the High Priest had assured her before she'd left. [i]'It wouldn't do to have a member of the clergy arrive like some wayward pauper.'[/i]

Those she'd traveled with would all leave once they'd delivered her. Then Tia would be alone again.

[color=lemonchiffon][center][i]"Let them see your scars," the queen commanded. Tia forced herself to still, to not flinch as manicured nails traced the raised flesh of her throat. Her breath froze in her lungs. "Remind them of what's at stake."[/i][/center][/color]

The carriage finally drew to a stop outside the small, hastily-built temple to Aelios. Tia steeled herself as an attendant opened the door to the carriage. She took his offered hand, her fingers tightening around his warmth as he steadied her.

The first time the citizens of Dawnhaven saw Sun Priestess Tingara, her head was high, and her eyes were clear as snow flakes disappeared against the fair halo of her hair. Her scarf was clutched tightly around her collar, scars hidden from view.

After months of darkness, the sun's pale light had finally reached Dawnhaven.