I shivered.
The bed welcomed me with impossible softness. Nothing like the temple pallet I had grown up with. Nothing like the narrow cot on the ship, which had smelled of rope and salt and someone else’s sweat. This was… luxury. Silent and absolute.
I lay back, pulled the coverlet to my chest, and stared at the ceiling.
Sleep didn’t come.
The room was too quiet. My mind, too loud.
Faces rose in the dark behind my eyes. Not memories—I had never met them. But I had seen them.
A chestnut-haired young man with a noble’s gold band circling his upper arm, lounging in a sunlit corridor like he owned the island. A blond youth with piercing blue eyes and a mouth too beautiful for anyone honest. A green-eyed boy with auburn hair and ceremonial soldier’s armor strapped across one shoulder, his skin golden beneath it. And then—one more. The slender one. Brown hair loose to the jaw, silks clinging low around his hips, revealing far more than they concealed. He had moved through thepalace like smoke, like something half-seen and unforgettable.
Any one of them could summon me.
Any one of them could call my name and claim my body for the ritual.
A tiny tingle stirred deep in my stomach—unwelcome, unfamiliar. I buried it quickly beneath the weight of fear. Of shame. Of not knowing what would happen when the call came. Of not knowing who I would be after it did.
I pulled the covers tighter around my shoulders, turned onto my side, and tried again to sleep.
But the silence pressed in, and the stone beneath the bed stayed warm with light.
Chapter
Three
CALLIS
The morning light had already spilled through the high window when I woke.
The covers had slipped to my waist. The air was warm and dry, touched with the faint scent of citrus and rising bread. I sat up slowly. My body ached in places I hadn’t expected—shoulders, neck, the small of my back—as if I’d been holding tension even in sleep.
I crossed to the basin. The stone beneath it was warm.
Not from fire. From sunlight.
I had read once about such stones—gifts of the sun gods, just as the moonstones lit the night. They absorbed the day’s heat and passed it gently on to whatever touched them. It wasn’t magic. Not exactly. But it felt like more than stone.
I dipped my hands into the water, and it was warm, too. I cupped it over my face, letting it trickle down, then again, until I felt fully awake.
Theseretlay folded at the end of the bed. I dressed slowly, smoothing the fabric over my shoulders, pinning it at the hip as I’d been shown. It clung to me again, reminding me that I was not in the life I knew. I considered leaving my shoulder bare, like some of the others did, then fastened the fold firmly into place.
I wasn’t ready to be seen like that.
When I stepped outside, the world had bloomed again.
Birdsong laced the air. The breeze carried the scent of orange blossom and rosemary. Ahead of me, a small group of boys strolled the path toward the dining terrace, their laughter easy and unguarded.
They wore theseretlike I did, though not quite.
One of them, tall and honey-skinned, had let his fall deliberately low across his waist. His left shoulder was bare, his torso exposed in full sun. He knew he was beautiful. Knew the way his muscles shifted when he walked, the way his head turned just slightly as they passed beneath a flowering arbor. His companion nudged him and whispered something. The boy laughed, tossed his curls, and straightened his posture with a casual roll of his shoulder.
It was deliberate. All of it.
A performance. An offering.
He wants to be chosen, I thought.He’s asking for it.
