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The chuckle was low but freeing. She narrowed her eyes on me, daring me to contradict her the way she had when she’d first seen Joseph take his fox shape. This time I couldn’t help but tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, tracing the new translation mark as I pulled away. Her cheeks flushed that beautiful pink. After a long moment, she took a few steps toward the fountain before coming to a sudden halt, glancing back to me.

“Go,” I told her, gesturing toward the fountain that had caught her attention again. “You’re not a child. Do as you please.”

Her cheeks pinkened again, but she didn’t say anything as she followed one of the curved paths to the fountain. Her dress barely brushed the ground, warming in the light of the fire jars she passed. Like this afternoon, she perched on the edge of it, taking in the scene of Siriena reading that Vincent’s mother had commissioned nearly a century ago. The fading sunlight allowed the warmth of the fires to limn her face. The sight stole my breath.

Sitting there, her hand just touching the water in the basin, a strand of her hair falling across her face, she looked like the tapestries of Oltia kept in the Temple of Death in Embercrest. Everything but her eyes, at least. Every painting I’d ever seen of the Goddess of Death depicted her eyes as blood red, as the Sadross had. But Amethyst’s gray eyes seemed to glow, practically transparent, when she felt something strongly. It was so very near what my own eyes did, a trait inherited from my mother and her magical bloodline.

Most in the garden carefully stole glances of her, not outright staring but not ignoring her entirely, either. A few of the guard kept a hand on one of their daggers, the movement reflex. Two guardsmen stood with women who had not traveled with us, clothed in dresses of moderate fabric though finely embroidered. These two were angled, inconspicuously putting themselves between the women and Amethyst.

Phoebe crossed the garden, her gaze sharp as she took in the subtle wariness, too. One of the women nodded her head in quiet acknowledgement, and Phoebe paused, allowing herself to be drawn into conversation. The guardsman moved again, palming her waist and moving her a few inches until he was truly blocking Amethyst’s view.

Joseph, like always, seemed to be the only one not bothered or made nervous by Amethyst’s appearance. He murmured something to Hugh and then crossed the garden, navigating the winding pathways with ease, his eyes bright with excitement. He sat beside Amethyst on the edge of the fountain and skillfully drew her into a conversation too low for me to hear over the other voices.

“They are still convinced she may be Alholím,” Vincent murmured from my right.

Shelby stood with him, as did James, when I pulled my attention away from Amethyst and focused on him. Vincent had opted for dark pants and a similarly dark gray tunic embroidered with gold rather than silver. He’d left his hair down, spilling over one shoulder to his waist. James wore the standard dress of the employees of the crown: dark brown pants and tunic—the same as Reuben.

“That is theirs to think,” I said. “I am not one to force subservience. They will learn to trust her.”

“Is she?” James asked, quietly enough the water of the fountain nearly drowned out the words.

I shrugged and gave him a similar answer to what I’d given Vincent the night of the Grand Rite. “The Alholím were killed during the war. If she is, she is from a lineage none of us know of, and she is not aware of the history.”

How could she when she was not from Avicourt at all?

James relaxed at the answer and then cleared his throat. “The food is ready whenever you are,” he said. “Once you are eating, Emma and I will work to unpack your bags and sort through everything.”

“You’ve eaten?” James had a habit of waiting until everyone else was fed before taking anything for himself.

He flushed even as he nodded. “Emma is eating now, too, before you ask.”

“Very well.”

I didn’t suggest he enjoy the feast. He was more than welcome to, of course, but James and Emma both were very reserved, skirting the edges of any event and keeping mostly to themselves. They would both much rather clean up our room and sort through the items we’d brought on the trip than mingle down here for more than was truly necessary.

“Emma made a trip to the smaller clothing market this afternoon,” he said after a minute, “with the dress that fit her the best while traveling. They should have a few items ready in a day or two that will suffice for the equinox. She said they would also have a pair of pants and a tunic made for her as well in case she prefers them over dresses for daily wear while the larger trousseau is fashioned.”

I hadn’t been aware of that trip. I made sure my gratitude was evident in my voice. “Thank you.”

He dipped his head and then eased away from the group, fading into the background as Hugh approached, Arden with him.

Before they reached us, Shelby said, “I have some additional clothing that should fit her as well, casual options for being here.” She gestured to Vincent’s home. “Leggings and such. Even if you have several seamstresses, having a full wardrobe fashioned will take longer than a few days.”

I murmured another gratitude even as I made a mental note to cover the cost of her wardrobe additions as well since her own home was in Embercrest. Then Hugh and Arden joined us, and Shelby slipped away with a murmured excuse, walking the same path Amethyst had and sitting on her other side, melding seamlessly into the conversation Joseph had started.

“I spoke with the Votarist this afternoon,” Arden said, forgoing a greeting.

Hugh’s lips thinned, but he didn’t say anything to directly contradict the informality.

“You have confirmed your validation rites?” I asked, pulling my attention away from Amethyst entirely.

Arden nodded. “Midmorning tomorrow. I expect it will trigger her heat as she is already very near the edge. I’ve arranged for us to stay at the basilica until she’s through it entirely. Vincent’s offered us a room here once she is.”

“If you wish more privacy, I do not mind,” I assured him. “I have no need for a full guard while here, and you know that.”

He shrugged. “You should still have one, though, regardless of if you feel the need. We’ve heard the rumors.”

Now I frowned. “What rumors?”