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“All right, then,” Teerman drawled. “I have some things I need to discuss with the Commander. He will let you know my decision.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” I bowed, then straightened and turned for the door.

“One more thing,” Teerman called out.

I faced him. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“If you do become the Maiden’s guard, you need to know that if she were to become harmed while under your care…” The lamplight reflected off his black eyes. “You would be flayed alive and hung so the entire city could bear witness to your failure.”

I nodded. “I would expect nothing less.”

NATURAL ORDER OF THINGS

Every time I looked at the eleven gods painted across the ceiling of the Great Hall, I had questions.

Starting with who in the fuck was the pale, white-haired God of Rites and Prosperity? The Ascended called him Perus, but he’d never existed. I supposed they had to make up a god for their Rites.

My gaze swept over the ceiling as city folk entered the long, white chamber of marble and gold, carefully navigating the silver urns full of white and purple jasmine flowers. Whoever had painted this had talent, capturing the somber expressions of Ione, Rhahar, and then Rhain, the God of Common Men and Endings often depicted in Atlantia. The red hair of Aios, the Goddess of Love, Fertility, and Beauty, was as vibrant as fire, not having faded in the years since the ceiling was painted. Penellaphe, the Goddess of Wisdom, Loyalty, and Duty, appeared peaceful and serene, while Bele, the Goddess of the Hunt, looked as I imagined she would if awake: like she was about to whack someone across the head with her bow. Even the different shades of skin, from the rich-brown-hued Theon, the God of Accord and War, and his twin, Lailah, the Goddess of Peace and Vengeance, to the deeper, cooler black skin of Saion, the God of Sky and Soil, were rendered with exquisite detail. It made me think the artist had been an Atlantian, or at least one who’d descended from Atlantia.

But Nyktos, the King of Gods, was painted as he was throughout the entirety of Solis, his face and form showing only as silvery moonlight. Why they hid him was beyond me, as was the fact the Ascended appeared to have erased every mention of his Consort. Her name and visage weren’t even known to us, but we knew of her existence. Legend said it had to do with Nyktos being overly protective of his Queen, but for the Ascended to completely cut her out always struck me as a purposeful act. An odd one, just as the decision to hide Nyktos’s appearance was. There had to be a reason. Alastir had once said it was because, deep down, the Ascended feared the wrath of the King of Gods and couldn’t bring themselves to look upon him. And maybe that was true, but it didn’t explain removing all record of his Consort, to the point where most within Solis had no knowledge of her.

My gaze lowered, skipping over the white banners bearing the golden Royal Crest that hung from the ceiling to the floor, between the numerous windows that lined the entirety of the Hall. Old anger festered. White and gold were the colors of Atlantia’s sigil. Modeling theirs after ours was also purposeful.

Eyes narrowing, I looked at the raised dais as the hum of conversation filled the chamber. From where I stood in the alcove, I had an unobstructed view. Several Royal Guards already flanked the two chairs the Duke and Duchess would soon sit upon. I leaned against a marble pillar, wondering what this session would bring. Usually, it was nothing more than a show of the wealthy kissing the Ascended’s asses. As a Rise Guard, I didn’t have to attend these events, but I did because the Maiden attended. It was the same reason so many of those crowding the main floor came each week yet never spoke.

They were here for her, too.

Likely because they believed she was even closer to the gods than the Ascended. I wondered what she thought of that. Did she believe it? That the gods had Chosen her? A handful of days ago, I would’ve assumed she did. I had assumed many things—

The crowd quieted.

The Duke and Duchess entered to a wave of applause that was notably halfhearted. Interesting. My attention remained on the side door as the Ascended took their seats.

Vikter came out first, his hand on the hilt of his sword, alertness etched into every line of his weathered face.

Then the crowd went completely silent and still as the Maiden appeared. There wasn’t a single sound, not even a cough, as she walked to stand to the left of the chairs. The silence was one of… I quickly scanned the faces I could see. All stared up at the dais, focused on her, even the members of the Court—the Ascended and the Lords and Ladies in Wait that stood at the front. I recognized the Lady in Wait often seen with the Maiden, the one with the warm brown skin and curly hair. She looked half-asleep. The mortals, though, they smiled. Some looked close to joyous tears. Others just stared in open-mouthed awe. The smiles were ones of reverence.