Finding the youngest of the lot, I studied my nails. “When do we board?” I asked dryly.
The young guard looked me up and down. “In two chimes of the bell, madam. . .?”
“Terpsichore,” I said, hoping the lady remained at home, as Cecelia claimed.
“Ah.” He raised his chin, recognizing the name. “I heard you and your father wouldn’t be attending.”
Shit. Improvising, I pressed a finger to my lips. “I didn’t want to miss this. Don’t tell anyone?” Smiling sweetly, I tilted my head.
Thankfully, he smiled back. “Of course. Do you still have your invitation?”
“Right here.” I handed him the envelope, heart pounding.
Would he notice it was a forgery? I watched him break the seal and unroll the letter, keeping my breathing steady. His eyes flicked over the words meant to be written by the Archon and hastily returned it to me.
“Enjoy yourself,” he said. “The others should be arriving soon. You can wait here.”
“Thank you,” I said, bowing my head and walking past him.
Relieved, I tried to relax. Pretending you belonged fooled most people. The nobles who sat on the king’s council were permitted to board the ship with the priests, allowing them to witness the ceremony up close. Hopefully, the mask concealed my face enough to fool those who’d met Lord Terpsichore’s daughter.
A gaudily dressed man in a brilliant purple doublet approached the guards in the company of a flaming-haired woman. With their faces concealed by masks, I couldn’t see a hint of their features. The man quickly conversed with the guards, while the red-haired woman in black regarded me.
Whether she smiled or scrutinized, I couldn’t tell.
The gaudy man bowed to the guards playfully and returned tohis date’s side. The fox engraved on his mask regarded the priest by the waters I’d spoken with earlier.
The owl-masked man and the gaudy purple lord exchanged glances, before turning toward me. Why did they stare? Pretending not to notice, I looked away, instead watching a pair of lords dressed in glittering gold join our little group.
Another chime rang across the waters, and a hush quickly fell across the square. Bowing their heads, the maidens began their procession across the walkways, and the young guard gestured for me to walk ahead of him.
Holding my head high, I drank in the theater boat’s every detail, its soaring mast and high banisters
There. A troop of guards in heavy black armor emerged from the temple, surrounding a broad man who carried the great bust of the Maiden.
The goddess Brizo, in all her marble glory. Flowing hair spilled like water across her back, and her bare breasts were covered by cupped hands. Glowing beneath the lanterns, a brilliant blood-red stone was embedded in her palms.
Carrying the entire bust out of here would be impossible. Thankfully, all I needed was that stone.
A cluster of priests in pale blue togas and the maidens in sea-tinted robes knelt at the back of the ship. Dancers streamed onboard behind them; women in masks tipped with enormous feathers gathered around the railing, their male partners shrouded behind long, ornamental beaks.
The group of nobles stood center-stage. Following the crowd, a bead of sweat ran down my temple as the enormous man set the bust down gently on its altar.
The High Priest approached the edge of the boat, arms cast wide, as if inviting the crowd on the lake’s other side. He would give a brief speech, then festivities would commence. The day was forliving, not sharing sermons about the afterlife.
Pale blue scarf trailing in the wind like a sea current, the High Priest began his brief recitation of the verses.
“Daughter of the sea, Brizo, our savior, I pray for your continued protection. For your hand steers the ships of the ocean on their flying course, and shields our land from encroaching wars. Upon your vessel, did we escape the endless sea.”
Looking down, I scanned the gaggle of performers. A troupe of musicians quietly set up in the back corner, wearing robes the color of the boat.
When the dancers spun in front of the idol, perhaps. . .
The noblewoman with fiery red hair leaned toward me. “Quiet year. There used to be more coin poured into these festivals.”
Startled, I turned to the woman beside me. A phoenix mask concealed her face, save for eyes of faded blue. She stood nearly a foot taller than I, clad in a handsome charcoal gown.
Who was this? I studied the red braid tumbling down her back, but no names came to mind. Neither did I recognize the fox-masked lord with her.
