Kailorien and Auryn took their seats at the highest tier. A divan had been arranged for them specifically, decorated in cushions of white, gold, black, and crimson. An ornate Sahtra stand was wheeled to their table, two large hoses attached to the base. Lu’ma examined it thoroughly, though she was well aware that neither of them enjoyed the smoke.
Attendants filled their table with food and brought cups of wine. Auryn didn’t touch a thing, and some whispered that it was her divinity which kept her from eating at any such event.
'The Sokâr does not require mortal sustenance,'someone signed to her left. 'The Child of the Void rises above us all. '
Kailorien didn’t miss a beat.
You should eat, love. You’ve been working yourself to the bone. You need to keep up your strength.
The worry in his words both warmed and singed. Auryn considered a lie, but then thought better of it.
For a—long time—Zeera liked to hex my food at proceedings like this one. Since then, my appetite has vanished.
The look he gave her, piercing and sharp, crushed her chest like a stone.
None would dare to tamper with your meal when you sit beside the Resh’Agar.
She placed her hand over his without meeting his gaze.
I will eat. In our chamber. Lu’ma already arranged to set aside a meal for me.
From that moment on, they did not get another chance to speak again. Councilors, guests, and priests approached their table. Some with gifts, others with requests for topics to be taken to the next session in the Axis Hall.
When the lights were dimmed, the drums changed their beat. The Companions came forward and began to dance, showing off the flexibility of their beautiful lithe forms. Sunlight was a precious commodity in Krystopolis. Sun-kissed skin was a sign of rank, and each of the Companions possessed a complexion speaking of days spent in sunlight, basking in its warmth. Each woman had taken care to rub shimmering cream onto her arms and shoulders, to choose only the finest veils, to have her Attendants arrange rich black hair into perfect falling waves.
Their dance was seduction. Worship. An appeal to their Resh'Agar. During Estâr, the order in which he chose to take their mana determined stipend, favor, political standing. And so they danced, looked into his glowing blue eyes, showed off endless hours they'd put into practice for this one single moment.
Not for the first time, Auryn pitied them. Hated them.Envied them.
The rhythm of the drums built and crested, and in a single dramatic note, the Companions moved in sync and assumed a final glorious pose. Bronzed skin shimmered in the Polis light. Sahtra floated around them like an adoring cloud. Their veils blended together but never tangled. Each motion planned. Each pause choreographed and drilled to perfection. Eight Companions. Two to represent each district and to carry itsvoice to Councilors that favored them. And to the Resh'Agar. Always to their Quintessence.
The music faded, and the Companions bowed. Hands rose in the air to clap, and those whose emerald chokers were lit gave restrained praise. The emeralds on the Companions' necks flickered to life, freeing their voices. They'd earned the right to speak now, and at last, it was their turn to approach the Resh'Agar.
Zeera stood first.
And stumbled.
She caught herself just in time to keep her motions fluid, but Auryn's heart leapt into her chest. Her gaze narrowed on Zeera's feet, and there—just at her ankle—the strap of her sandal had snapped, much like Auryn's earlier that night. Beside her, a flicker of emotion—of satisfaction—crossed to her through the Bond.
Kail, did you see—
Unusual for a Companion of her rank to make a mistake But if she continues to interfere in matters above her station, her next offense will be punished with more than a moment of humiliation.
Zeera let none of her emotions show on her face. Recovering instantly, she glided to Liora and placed her hands on the new Companion's shoulders. The drums began to beat again, though they now beat a calmer, steady tune.
As the girl came their way, the drummers and musicians slowed their rhythm and song even further. The air itself seemed to still, the rustle of fabric pausing as she stepped across the space between them. Auryn watched her with rapt attention. The Companion was meant to kneel and sign her words of loyalty before touching her forehead to the Resh’Agar’s hand. To say an impassioned prayer. To gush about howenthralled she was, how much she looked forward to their days—and nights—together.
But the moment her gaze caught on his face for a fraction too long, her steps slowed. Faltered, even. Her first sign came late, her fingers curling clumsily on the stroke of his title. She froze, her face draining of color. A startled ripple went through the balconies—whispers, clipped gestures just sharp enough for anyone to catch if they were watching.
And Krystopolis always was.
Standing behind the girl like a lioness with prey between her claws, Zeera’s mouth curved.
The girl corrected her form and bowed low, kneeling at the Resh’Agar’s divan, pressing her forehead to Kailorien’s outstretched hand. Auryn caught her startle—not visible enough for the sponsors to remark on, but enough that the girl’s next breath shuddered through her. It was neither excitement nor adoration. Not anything Auryn had ever seen the Companions show.
Yet, she recognized the look.
The tremor in the girl’s shoulders.
