But beneath it all, one truth echoed louder than the rest: By tomorrow, I would be queen.
Chapter29
Light spilled through the glass windows in slanted beams, gilding my room in molten red. Outside, voices called across courtyards and horses snorted. Somewhere, an aulos fluted a winding tune. It sounded almost like joy.
It was the first day of the wedding festivities.
I sat upright, my spine straight despite the weight pressing into my chest. My fingers gripped the bedding for a breath, then released. Today would not be met hunched.
Footsteps padded outside. I half expected Anysa’s quick knock, her head poking in, her mouth already running with gossip. She was staying until after the wedding, and it would be good to start the day with her antics.
Another knock sounded, firmer, and my mood dropped.
That was definitely not Anysa.
I lifted my chin. “Enter.” The word left my mouth clearer than expected. Stronger … almost queenlike.
The door creaked open and three women entered, silent as ghosts, robed in bone-white linen. Their heads were wrapped in cloth, leaving only their faces exposed, painted pale, with thin crimson slashes across cheek and lip, like ceremonial wounds.
These must be the lower priestesses that Nomiki had spoken of.
The one in front bowed low, her spine a line of perfect discipline. “We are here to prepare you, my lady,” she said softly. Her voice was soft and calm, and without a smile.
“Proceed,” I told her, thinking that also sounded like what a queen would say.
One stepped forward and reached for my hand. Her fingers were warm, calloused at the tips, but careful, almost reverent in the way they curled around mine.
I rose.
Steam curled in slow spirals from the marble tub in my bathroom as water spilled in from a spout in the wall that was shaped like a lion’s maw, its bronze jaws gaping. I stood at the edge, watching it fill. The scent hit me first, crushed laurel, softened with rose petals.
I remembered my first bath in this palace and how I’d been unable to enjoy it. There had been blood on my skin and red dust in my hair. Fear had curled like a fist in my gut.
Now …
Now the fear wasn’t gone … but it wasn’t everything.
Amyklai would eat today. And tomorrow too.
The wagons had rolled down the road and the image of them, wooden wheels turning red earth, stacked high with sacks of grain and oil jars lashed down with rope, still rose in my mind like a balm.
I breathed it in. Whatever the next days would bring, I could get through by thinking of them.
The women waited in silence. Their faces were still unreadable, but they didn’t rush me. One held a folded linen sheet. Another knelt beside the tub, stirring the water with a copper ladle as if testing the warmth.
I stepped into the bath.
The heat bit at first, then melted into comfort. I sank slowly, letting the water cradle my body, the perfume of herbs opening my chest with every breath. Fingers moved through my hair, unfastening the night plaits, loosening every twist. A comb slid through the strands with care, tugging just enough to remind me I was still real, still flesh.
When the water cooled, one of the women touched my shoulder lightly. I stepped out of the bath, water sliding down my skin in rivulets. A soft linen towel was draped around me, its edges embroidered in red thread. They dried me gently, like they might a sacred statue, patting, never rubbing. The towel was taken, and I stood bare before them.
One of the women stepped forward with the first layer.
She held up the chiton made of fine, sheer white silk that was nearly translucent. As she wrapped it around me, her voice finally broke the silence.
“This marks the lineage you join,” she murmured. “White, so you are seen without question. So your soul may walk unshadowed into union.”
The fabric fell around me like mist.
