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The auctioneer verified the first few stacks and began securing the coins.

“We’ll have the carriage take your bride to Petrion,” he said. “You can go on ahead.”

I thanked him and collected the empty bag. For weeks, I’d treated this day as a mere obligation. Once the auction was over, I could return to my work with the matter settled. Now I lingered by the table after he turned to someone else, listening while Thalia finished her conversation.

I took the path toward Petrion alone. For as long as the gathering remained within hearing, I found myself listening for her.

3

Claiming Night

Thalia

“Will you have some water, Thalia? You’ve barely spoken since we left the market.”

Father held out his flask. I shook my head and kept looking through the carriage window. He’d offered it twice already, along with something to eat and his cloak. Apparently, there were still a few things he thought I should choose for myself.

My bundle rested beside him, tied with the cord I’d used to carry herbs between the shrine and Melia. I’d packed it myself, but now I kept remembering things I’d left behind. My cup. The worn shawl beside my bed. A patient who would arrive tomorrow and ask for me. She’d be told someone else would see her. How long would it take before she stopped asking?

The carriage jolted over a rut. Father reached across to steady me, and I braced myself against the window frame before he could. His hand lingered between us for a moment. I pretended not to notice when he withdrew it.

“The road improves near Petrion,” he ventured. “We’re almost there.”

I knew where the mansion stood, near the edge of the Blighted Lands. Once, a wealthy satyr noble had owned the estate. He’d died after a clash with the Blighted Ones, and his household had fled as the Blight approached. Now one of the creatures he’d fought lived in his abandoned home. There was something almost funny about that. I doubted its former owner would have appreciated it.

“The ambassador had your rooms prepared,” Father told me. His voice was shaking, just as it had since the bride market. “He assured us you’d be comfortable.”

Of course he’d asked about the rooms. As if that mattered. As if comfort had ever really mattered in the shrine. I’d slept on the ground and in the trees as a child, and never minded it. And now I was supposed to worry about rooms? It was absurd.

“What else did he assure you of?” I asked tightly. “I’d like to know before I go inside. Assuming you’re interested in telling me before he actually takes me to his bed.”

Father leaned toward me, still holding the flask between his hands. “Thalia, please. I was trying to make certain you’d be cared for.”

Ironically, I believed him. He’d been concerned throughout those weeks of discussion, too. There was only so much he could do for me once the village decided I was the price for their safety.

But that wasn’t really the problem. “You could have brought me with you,” I said. “I’d have liked to hear his assurances myself. At least, then, I’d have known what I was selling my vows for.”

Father winced and settled back without answering. I returned my attention to the window, unwilling to watch him search for something else to offer me.

Maybe it was cruel of me to cling to my resentment like this. But the Endless Forests taught harshness as much as they taught gentle healing. First and foremost, they taught truth. And the truth right now was simple: I’d been betrayed.

The carriage traveled for an eternity. The silence stretched between us, sharp and unbroken. Father tried to reach out to me a few more times, but seemed to think better of starting another conversation.

Finally, the carriage began to slow down. Petrion came within view, its crumbling walls already surrounded with a rich growth of white flowers. Their petals held a faint silver-blue glow. Asphodels, growing in freshly turned soil beneath the weeds.

They weren’t like any bloom I’d ever grown myself. People called them the flowers of the dead. I’d never seen them until now, not with my own eyes. But I’d heard they grew in all the places the Blight was about to consume.

A bad omen, I’d have called them once. They didn’t look like that now. Mostly, they just looked sad. Or maybe, in those crystalline petals, I was seeing myself.

The asphodels didn’t belong here, and neither did I.

“Will you not even look at me, Thalia?” Father asked.

I kept my eyes on the flowers and held out my hands. “I don’t want to argue again. Please give me my things.”

“I’m not trying to argue.” He lifted the bundle, but kept it on his knees. “I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry.”

My eyes burned. Why did he have to say it like that? I could endure his explanations, even argue with them. The hurt in his voice made me want to turn toward him. I hated that he could still make me want his comfort.