Byleth played with the rings on her fingers as she paced across her parlor. At the end of each circuit she stopped and looked to the water clock dripping on the shelf between the bronze nudes of the Earth Mother and Ishara, the Lady of Love. The hour was getting late, and still there was no word on Lord Mulcibar. She started to chew on a fingernail. Her world was crumbling around her. In two days it would be Tammuris. Two days until she lost her freedom, unless she did something to stop it.

She had tried everything she could think of to put off the wedding. She had dithered and stalled, claimed poor omens and improper astrological alignments, and even outright refused, but the priests remained adamant. And so her desperation grew by the day. She stopped praying that Astaptah would come through with a solution in time. Every time she sent for an update, the same message would return: Patience. I am making progress.

Yesterday, she had ordered the messenger flogged and sent back to show his bloody back to the vizier, but the answer hadn't changed.

A chime rang from the ceiling. Byleth stood up straight and smoothed the folds of her damask gown, which was more demure than her usual attire but she was trying to make an impression. She signaled to Aisa to admit her visitor, and then changed her mind about standing and reclined on a plush divan as footsteps echoed in the admitting chamber. The slave-girl returned with Menarch Rimesh. The priest looked extremely warm in his long robe of yellow, but no sign of perspiration glistened on his smooth head. His priestly tattoos glowed crimson and gold in the light slanting in through the large windows behind her.

“Majesty,” he said with a slight bow.

“Menarch, please sit down. I thank you for answering my request. Can I offer you refreshment?”

She gestured to the side table where wine bottles were displayed alongside bowls of fresh fruit.

“No thank you.” He sat on the edge of a cushioned chair. “I would rather get directly to the reason for this meeting.”

He could have been a stone for all his face revealed. Byleth accepted a piece of dew melon from Aisa and took a small bite. She considered allowing a drop of juice to trickle down her chin but dismissed the idea. The priest would not be swayed by her sex appeal. “I called you here to discuss the upcoming event.”

“The feast of Tammuris,” he said.

“Exactly.”

“The temple has been working on the details of the event with your court officials. If you require an itinerary—”

“I require it not to happen at all.”

Rimesh smiled. It was a tepid smile, the kind reserved for the very old and the very young. “No one can stop the turning of the days. Not even a queen.”

I would love to summon a few of my less-savory guards and show you exactly what a queen can do, you swine.

She put on her most charming smile. It had seduced men of great station and wealth since she was a girl. “Let the feast come and go, dear Menarch, but remove the demand that I marry. Just for this year, and I will pour so much gold into the coffers of your temple that you'll be able to gild Amur's holy image from head to toe.”

His eyes narrowed a trifle. “The priesthood of the Sun Lord does not want for treasure or prestige, Majesty. The emperor's gifts are both frequent and ample, certainly dwarfing whatever largesse Erugash could manage.”

She swallowed the fruit to give herself time to consider her next words. “Perhaps. It is known far and near that your sect enjoys the emperor's favor and the status that comes with it, but surely it must chafe.”

He started to shake his head but stopped himself. “How do you mean?”

Byleth shrugged, allowing the front of her gown to gape open just a sliver. “Being at the behest of the imperial whim. The gods did not intend for men, even the mightiest of rulers, to reign over the houses of the holy. But if you were to grant my humble request, your order would find a most welcome home here in my city, free from burdensome laws and edicts.”

“Majesty, allow me to be blunt?”

“By all means.”

“We already control your city. The devotees of the Order of the Crimson Flame here in Erugash outnumber your court, and the temple soldiers are better armed and more experienced than any levies you have currently inside the city. Furthermore, on the eve of the Tammuris you will wed Prince Tatannu, and then we shall have everything we desire, a return to the old ways when your kind knew their place in the natural order—as servants of the empire, not its masters.”

She felt the blush of heat running across her cheeks but refused to acknowledge the shame his words had inflicted. “And you would place yourself at the head of this new order, Menarch?”

“Our Lord Amur presides at the head, and all must serve His divine word or perish.”

“All you say well may be true, but as a queen and the daughter of Rathammon et'Urdrammor, I can tell you that things change. Your well-laid plans may turn to ash before they bear fruit. Accept my offer and have the surety of a lasting bond between my House and your temple. Who knows? Perhaps someday Erugash will be the heart of Amur's worship, the envy of all other cities in the world.”

Rimesh stood up. “Of that, Majesty, I have no doubt. We know the iniquity that lurks in the dark places of this city.”

Byleth's heart nearly stopped at his words. Did the Sun Cult know about Astaptah and the storm engine? How could they? Unless they had a spy in her inner circle…

“And we know that if you are not the architect of the evil dwelling within Erugash, you surely have done nothing to root it out, and for that you will someday face Lord Amur's judgment. But until that time, the Temple of the Sun will seek out the wicked wherever they hide and deliver the proper justice.”

Byleth stood up slowly, reaching out with her zoana as she got to her feet. Just a trickle. If her words could not convince him, then she would change his mind another way. She sent the power to burrow into the menarch's subconscious but frowned as she encountered resistance. She pushed harder, but her effort crumpled against what felt like an iron shield around his thoughts.

Rimesh reached up and pulled a chain out of his collar. The metal circle dangling from his fingers was covered in a spiral of dense runes. Byleth could feel her power ebbing away.

Zoahadin.

“A wise man takes every precaution,” he said.

As she released her zoana, she was struck by his physical presence. Not since she was a small girl had she been intimidated by a man because of his size. He could probably kill her with his bare hands. He took a step toward her and then turned toward the door. “Good night, Byleth.”

After he was gone, she broke into silent tears. The order to have him seized and executed on the spot hovered on the tip of her tongue, but they went unspoken as she collapsed on the divan. It wouldn't do any good. He had won. Her fate was sealed.

She looked up to the bust of her father set in a niche beside her household gods.

I've failed you, and soon our line will be extinguished by the priests you labored your entire life to bring down.

Idle thoughts entered her mind, of ending her life tonight to rob her foes of the pleasure of watching her brought to heel—a subtle venom mixed into her favorite vintage, and then never-ending slumber. She envisioned herself entombed beside her father's mastaba as the tears slid down her cheeks. Is this my fate? To claw and fight my way to this point, and then have it all taken away? Is this what you foresaw, Father?

She wiped her face with a pillow and called for her protector.

Lord Xantu entered the chamber from a side door. “You heard?” she asked as he stood before her.

“Yes, Majesty. I wanted to rip the pig's heart out of his chest.”

“If only it was that simple.”

“He could disappear. No one could prove I had anything to do with it.”

Byleth smiled, wanting to laugh but too troubled to do so as she considered her shrinking list of options. “Barring some miracle, I must marry the Nisusi prince.”

Xantu dropped to one knee at her feet. “Majesty, I beg you. Flee the city and travel to one of your remote holdings. Or take refuge in Haran. I will follow you anywhere, in this world or the next.”

Overcome by his display, she touched his shoulder and bid him to rise. “You know I cannot. This is my fate. I accept that, and so must you.”

“I will not!” he growled as he stood up. His face was contorted into a purple mask. “I will not stand by and watch this charade. You are a queen and—”

She shushed him with a smile. “You must. That is my command and my wish. You will make your peace with your new king. Go to him now and swear your everlasting fealty. Do this for me.”

He stared at her for a long moment and then bowed low. Turning so fast his cloak billowed behind him, he strode out of her chamber, leaving her alone once again.