I pressed a hand to the place where it had nestled, as if I could still feel the warmth of it there.
But there was nothing. Just silk and cold.
And the ache of losing something small and strange that had chosen me … only to vanish when I needed it most.
Chapter9
Aflash of crimson darted into view—
A servant nearly collided with us as she rounded the corner, linen robes swishing around her ankles. She was young, no older than me, with a braid coiled tight against her scalp and sweat beading along her brow. “Is this her?” she demanded of the soldier. “The one who’s missing.”
The soldier gave a single curt nod.
“You’re late,” the servant snapped. Her dark eyes swept over me and my mother, before jerking toward the narrow side corridor behind her. “This way. Now.” She didn’t wait for acknowledgment, turning on her heel and moving away as the gold thread at her collar winked back at us.
My mother’s voice was edged with strain. “Is there a room where my daughter can freshen up?”
“There’s no time. She must come now.”
I barely had a second to register the words before another servant appeared, slipping out of a chamber ahead, a silver tray balanced on her arms. Folded silk glowed on its surface—veils and sashes in pale, delicate hues.
“Give me that,” the first woman scowled, snatching one of the veils without breaking stride. She thrust it into my hands, her movements urgent. “Put this on.”
My fingers fumbled with the fabric even though it was nearly weightless. “Now,” she said again, already turning.
Flustered and half-blind with confusion, I draped it over my head and shoulders, tucking the ends beneath my chin with hands that didn’t feel like mine. Shapes blurred but didn’t vanish, the light dimmed but visible, and the hallway stretched ahead like a softened painting. I could still see, but everything felt somehow removed, like I’d stepped behind a curtain between myself and the world.
My mother reached toward me as if to help, but the servant turned and blocked her with a firm shake of her head. “There’s a chamber down the hall,” she all but growled. “Freshen yourself up before joining the other guests.”
The servant’s hand closed around my arm and the corridor spun around me as she pulled me forward. My mother’s voice called something frantic behind me—my name, I think—but a door was already swinging open, and then I was pushed inside a room.
The door thudded shut in my face, and I flinched, heart lurching, as I took a stumbling step back. The golden glow of oil lamps wavered against the walls, catching on polished marble and gilded trim. Warm air pressed against my skin, thick with the perfume of incense and crushed flowers.
I slowly turned around, my eyes widening.
The hush in the room wasn’t silence … it was the sound of every head turning toward me. Dozens of girls. All veiled.
A cold realization pooled in my gut. These were my rivals.
They stood like ghosts in the lamplight, arranged in clusters or poised alone, hands folded, backs straight. Their dresses gleamed white and untouched, veils cascading over perfect shoulders, threaded with ivory, pearls, faint embroidery. They looked like offerings.
I … looked like a mistake someone would be blamed for.
My dress was wrinkled and dust-stained, my hem was torn … my hair must’ve looked like it had been dragged behind a cart.
A servant swept forward with a snap of linen skirts. Her fingers pinched the fabric of my dirty cloak as though she didn’t want to touch it at all, and with a jerk she yanked it from my shoulders, nearly pulling me off-balance. “Join the others. Quickly.”
I stepped forward, slow and unsure, the veil casting the room in blurred gold. Behind the silk, faces were featureless. Their whispers though, were not.
“Who is that?”
“Look at her dress …”
“Did she fall in a ditch?”
“… one of the village girls, maybe?”
And then another voice.
