Chapter 16 #2
I smiled back, the kind that showed fangs beneath the sugar. “How thoughtful of you to look out for me,” I said. “It must be exhausting keeping track of what everyone in the room is looking at.”
Anysa snorted into her cup, trying and failing to cover it with a cough.
Chloé’s smile wavered, just slightly, and that was enough. I rose from the table, smoothing my gown as though brushing away her words.
“Do enjoy your evening,” I murmured, before turning and walking out. The heat of their stares prickled between my shoulder blades, but I didn’t look back.
Every word at that table had been a lesson, and I filed each one away like a weapon I might need later.
Especially the one that said there were other dangers in the palace besides the god wearing a crown—so I’d do well to stop letting my gaze linger on the king’s golden soldier.
Nomiki led us down a hallway that smelled of crushed pomegranate and incense, thick, sweet, and, as usual …
suffocating. We walked in a line behind her, our sandaled feet barely making a sound on the marble beneath us, our faces veiled.
No one spoke. Even Anysa, who I assumed treated silence like an enemy to be defeated, had become solemn, her expression filled with something akin to fear.
We were deep in the palace now, far beyond our wing and not where we had been having queen lessons the last few days.
This was a different sort of place.
The walls here were darker, draped in gauzy fabric that fluttered despite the still air.
Nomiki halted so abruptly in front of a curtain-covered doorway that the line behind her nearly collided. Her shoulders locked into place, chin lifting as if readying for battle. Then she turned, eyes sweeping over us with blistering precision.
“If any of you embarrass me today,” she growled, “you’ll wish the gods had taken you with them when they ran.”
I adjusted my veil with steady fingers, laughing softly as Nomiki stepped aside. It had only taken me two days to find out she was mostly bark … with little bite. I’d seen her just last night, crouched beside a crying Damaris in the hall, smoothing back her hair like a mother hen.
The gauzy curtain in front of us parted … and the High Priestess emerged.
My spine straightened as if pulled by a string.
Her robes shimmered with threads of gold and red today. Twists of braids coiled into a crown atop her head, each pinned with garnet beads. The incense seemed to thicken in the hall as she stepped forward, the air shifting around her with veneration.
Her gaze swept over us, unhurried and piercing. I felt it land on me for half a breath too long.
“Sensuality,” she said suddenly, her voice coldly severe, “is power. It binds, it tethers, it conquers. And you, who would wear the crown of Sparta, must learn to wield it as deftly as any blade.”
Under my veil, I smiled. I knew a thing or two about that kind of power.
“A queen must know how to sway without raising her voice. To make others burn with the heat of a thousand torches and never once let the fire devour her.”
Somewhere to my left, one of the girls muttered, “How are we supposed to seduce anyone with these veils on?”
A fair question.
Calismae hadn’t prepared me for a Trial without my face aiding me. I had always wielded it like a weapon, using my expression, a glance, the quiet promise of my mouth. And now it would be hidden, sealed away beneath layers meant to erase me.
The High Priestess’s head turned slowly. “And what if age takes your beauty?” she asked, her voice a hard thread winding through the air. “What if your husband goes blind? What then?”
Silence.
“A beautiful face is a gift,” she continued, “but it is not a weapon you can rely on forever. You must learn other charms—ones you can wield. Bend to your will. Those”—her gaze swept over us, lingering—“can be learned. And learned they will be.”
Was this our Trial? If so, what were they going to do to test sensuality?
Perhaps a staged court, where I’d be forced to win favor with a word and not a sword. Or a room full of enemies disguised as suitors, where I’d have to charm and manipulate without revealing a hint of strain.
I could figure that out.
I glanced at Anysa, who stood just beside me, her shoulders tense and hands fidgeting with the fabric at her sides.
She seemed uncertain … tension in every line of her body.
But then she nudged my elbow gently, tilting her head the slightest bit toward me, a barely perceptible shift that somehow radiated mock offense, like I’d insulted her courage by noticing her nerves.
“What?” she murmured, the words muffled beneath her veil. “I’m allowed to be charming and terrified.”
Despite everything, my lips curved. Anysa nudged me again, like she could somehow see the smile underneath my veil and was celebrating it.
The High Priestess turned without a word, the long train of her robe trailing behind her.
“What are you waiting for?” Nomiki barked. “Follow her.”
We hurried forward, the High Priestess gliding ahead like a vision summoned from incense smoke and divine threat. The corridor curved in a slow arc and as we walked, the walls began to shift around us.
At first, the murals were tame … women draped in celestial robes, lovers touching foreheads, eyes closed in quiet longing. A painted garden, a veiled kiss. Respectful. Distant.
But with each step, that distance narrowed.
The figures grew bolder. Robes slipped from shoulders.
Hands grasped flesh instead of silk. Sculptures emerged from alcoves, first subtle, then unmistakably carnal.
A goddess arching beneath a mortal’s mouth.
A man’s hand buried in a woman’s curls as she knelt before him, eyes lifted in painted adoration.
Whispers rippled through the line ahead of me.
“Is this—”
“It can’t be—”
“It is.”
Their voices were hushed behind their veils, but I caught enough to still my steps. The scent here was different … richer. Warm amber, fig, and something spiced beneath it, like crushed cloves.
We turned a corner, and the door ahead opened with a soft creak.
I leaned slightly toward Anysa. “Where are we?”
She shrugged, but Chloé, walking ahead of us, glanced back, and I knew she was smirking haughtily, even though I couldn’t see her through the veil. “Isn’t it obvious? These are the rooms of the king’s concubines.”