Aethra
I’d never attended a royal ball before. Sneaking into palaces with a fake identity was never a good idea—I’d tended to avoid such risky jobs.
Spinning, I admired the gown Percy had put together for me. A high slit rose up to my hip, and the neckline plunged to my sternum. The bard had insisted I ought to match the splendor of the prince, even if we weren’t arriving together.
Cerys sat on the edge of the table, sketching away. Once she drew a portal to ferry us safely to the palace, she would be leaving to attend herself—and she’d warned us she would not be acting as our ally there.
I watched over her shoulder, tracing her even lines and deliberate strokes. “Erotic sketches, huh? Kind of like the carvings in Serifos’ temple.”
Hand jerking, Cerys messed up one of her lines and quickly scrubbed it away. “Did Set tell you that?”
“Percy did.”
Eyes fluttering close, Cerys returned to herdrawing. “I like the human form. It’s beautiful.” Her eyebrow twitched, and she glanced back at me. “And it’s fun.”
Chuckling, I turned to the door. “You should make one of Percy.”
“I’d need him to model, first.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll say yes.” Glancing around the ancient walls and the torches gleaming a faint green, I sat beside her. “Can I ask you about the voices you hear?”
Cerys lifted her head, regarding me with faded, white eyes. “Every Oracle has been told the same: The Empty separates the living from the dead. The divines’ voices carry to us through the border.”
“And you believe it? That the voices belong to the divines?”
“I do.” Narrowing her eyes, she studied my face. “You’ve heard them.”
“Briefly.” I knitted my hands in my lap. “Some said overlapping nonsense, but . . . one spoke directly to me. She asked me to ‘save Set.’”
“The divines must have plans for him.”
“No, I—” I leaned closer. “I think I heard his mother. Or maybe Cassandra.”
Cerys tapped her quill on the page. “You think they’re still in there, somewhere?”
“Maybe. There are people living there. The keres.”
“You think the keres . . .” She leaned toward me. “Why would the Elpis maidens, who gave their lives for us, lure us to our death?”
“That, I don’t know,” I admitted.
The door creaked open, and I sat up.
Seraphim entered first, dragging a sad-looking Percy behind her. They both wore armor similar to the Ma’at guards—purple capes with golden breastplates. The helm Percy had acquired didn’t quite fit, and he was struggling to shove it over his head.
“You look dashing! Knightly.” I beamed at him.
“Yes, well.” Percy finally managed to shove the helm on. “I hope Seth knows what he’s doing. I don’t want to die looking like this.”
Seraphim walked past me, pausing to adjust the flower pin inmy braid. “You look like a queen,” she said with a wink.
I flushed. Had she always been keen on pushing Seth and me together?
Cerys rose and examined Percy’s outfit. She tugged on his cloak, straightening around his shoulder. The bard beamed like an idiot.
“I’m sorry we can’t share a dance,” Cerys said, smoothing down the purple fabric. “I would have liked to.”
“A loyal attendant and the Oracle, dancing?” Percy scoffed, looking away. “What would the people say?”
