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I bowed my head at the voice. Beneath my fingers, the ivy drew on roots sunk deep into the masonry. Beyond it lay so many lives, some feeding on what had fallen, others reaching their end. I’d listened to that immense, unceasing movement through sickness and burials, through mornings when I’d been too happy to imagine losing anything. The current of the Endless Forests hadn’t changed because I was miserable.

I couldn’t find comfort in that yet. Perhaps I didn’t have to. I stayed with my hand on the vine and let myself ache for the shrine. When I finally drew back, my cheeks were wet. I wiped them with my sleeve before turning toward the things I’d brought from home. Soon, my husband would come, and I’d have to be ready.

After supper, I washed at the basin and reached for the fastenings of my robes. My fingers stopped on the first one. A bride waited for her intended in her undergarments. I’d known the custom for years without ever imagining what it would feel like to obey it.

I slipped the silk from my shoulders and folded it over the chair. The breast band and loincloth beneath it offered only scant modesty. Still, I crossed my arms over my stomach when I turned toward the door. I’d have to greet Eryx like this, with bare legs and no idea what he expected me to say.

At the market, I’d found him handsome. There was no use pretending otherwise simply because I resented how I’d come to be his bride. I remembered the shape of his mouth below the blindfold, how gentle he’d been when he held my hand. I didn’t know what his skin felt like. His gloves had kept me from finding out. Would his touch feel good once he removed them? Would he be as careful with the rest of me as he’d been with my hand? My face warmed before I’d finished the thought.

One of his serpents had stretched toward me, too. He’d drawn it back before reaching for me. I wondered if he’d let it approach tonight, or if asking would seem foolish. There were so many ordinary things I didn’t know about him. I’d have liked to discover a few before taking off my clothes.

I could ask him to sit with me first. Surely that wasn’t unreasonable. We hadn’t spoken at the market. I wanted to hear him say my name without an auctioneer waiting for the next part of the ceremony.

Once, a woman whose union I’d blessed lingered beside the altar after her chosen satyr went to wait on the path.

“I wanted this so much,” she’d whispered. “Why am I frightened now?”

“Because it’s new,” I’d assured her. “Tell him, and let him help.”

“Will it hurt?” she’d insisted. “Getting the flower mark?”

“Sometimes, it does,” I’d said. “But it’s also the best gift you can possibly imagine.”

I’d been so certain it was true. Now I remembered the way her groom bent toward her when she joined him, and wished I’d asked what happened afterward. Had she managed to explain? Had he made her laugh? Was she happy with her mark? I’d simply returned to my work, pleased I’d helped her. It had been remarkably easy to be wise when someone else was leaving with the groom.

What would my flower mark look like? It appeared for every woman who bonded in the Korinos Wilds, a sign that the Endless Forests had blessed the union. Would mine be different because I was bonded to a Blighted One?

I lit the candle beside the bed, then focused on steadying myself. “It’s all right, Thalia,” I murmured. “You can do this.”

I wanted to give this mating a genuine chance. That much, at least, I could decide for myself. I didn’t want every conversation with Eryx to be another argument I was really having with Father. Perhaps Eryx was wondering how to begin, too. He’d been formal at the market, but so had I.

The first creak in the passage brought me upright. I smoothed my hands over my thighs and waited for the knock. Nothing followed. After a while, I sat back, embarrassed by how quickly my heart was racing.

Perhaps he was giving me time to prepare. I looked at the robes on the chair, then at the basin. There was little more I could do without getting dressed and beginning again.

As the candle burned lower, I moved to the chair beside the hearth. From there, I watched the courtyard tree through the window. Its branches stirred against the darkening sky. I’d touched the ivy earlier and cried as though nothing familiar remained to me. Now here was this tree, keeping me company while I made a fool of myself over every creaking board.

“Very helpful,” I told it. “I suppose none of you have ever waited for a husband.”

A twig tapped the glass. I almost smiled, then tucked my feet closer to the fire. Eryx would come. I could endure a little uncertainty without making it into another grievance.

By the time the last log broke apart, that reassurance began to feel insulting. Bion had taken away my supper long ago. My feet were cold, and the chair was uncomfortable. How much time did Eryx think I needed?

Perhaps I was supposed to go to him. I turned toward the door, trying to remember everything Bion had said. He’d shown me this room and warned me about the floors. Nothing about Eryx’s chambers, nothing about where to find him. Surely someone would have told me if the custom was different in Asphodelia.

I stood to fetch my robes, then stopped beside the bed. Why was I still searching for something I’d misunderstood? He knew the customs here well enough to buy a bride. He could have come upstairs to speak to me.

“Eryx?” I called, opening the door. “Are you there?”

The passage remained silent. I listened until the cold raised gooseflesh along my arms, then went back for the candle. I wanted an answer. Anything would be better than sitting here inventing excuses for a man I didn’t know.

At the first archway, the candle showed little beyond the nearest stretch of floor. Bion’s warning came back to me, and I reached for the current. The ivy brushed against the outer wall, familiar now.

I followed it gratefully until a faint unease made me hesitate. Farther ahead, roots threaded through gaps beneath the boards. I drew back from that passage, suddenly less eager to wander the house in search of its owner.

“Through there, child,” the voice of the Forests murmured. I knew to trust it, even when I had nothing else left to trust.

The Forests led me toward firmer ground. I kept close to the wall, annoyed that I needed help merely to cross my new home. At least something here was willing to tell me where to put my feet. When I finally recognized the stairs, a lamp moved across the hall below.