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"What do you think?"

For a few moments, punctuated by the beating of her heart that seemed ready to burst from her chest, Shadi had imagined the questions she would be asked. She tried to focus on the possibilities, to cling to what she knew so as not to lose her mind. She was just a girl, she told herself. An indecisive little girl, a victim of her own ego and her fears of a frightening future.

She cursed herself. Had she yawned less during her tutor's endless lectures, suppressed boredom and fantasy, she would have known more about Kenjir. Maybe her memory could have suggested some useful ideas to help her survive this nightmare.

Instead, her mind was filled with horrible images of her, Kerina and the other girls being subjected to the worst tortures.

What did she think of it? Nothing, she thought, nothing useful. She could barely contain the trembling and the desire to give in to a flood of tears.

The man interpreted her silence as a mere hesitation, or an invitation to articulate the question. "I'm talking about the Trials, Shadi. Are you excited, tense, to witness the most important event of all time?" He paused for a moment, then placed his hands on the arms of the chair and pushed himself to the edge of the seat, leaning towards her.

Shadi could not look away from his eyes. There was a cold light in them. They seemed capable of pouring ice into her veins. "Or are you afraid?" The corners of his mouth lifted imperceptibly.

Of course she was afraid. She was neither childish nor stupid. At least not that stupid. "Only a fool would not be intimidated by the thought of taking part in the Trials."

He nodded, "That's true. But you haven't answered my question."

Shadi bit the inside of her mouth. It was getting harder and harder to keep her mind from wandering and asking questions she could not answer.

"Yes, I am afraid."

"I appreciate your honesty. You have said it well, only fools take the Trials lightly. Many have exaggerated the significance of the celebrations while underestimating their true meaning. It is amazing how blind and deaf our peoples have become, is it not?"

Shadi had no idea what he was talking about.

"What frightens you, little Shadi Jan Hura?"

She took a deep breath. "It is not the event itself that troubles me." She lowered her head, clasped her hands tightly and searched for words. "It's actually my parents' expectations that cause me anxiety."

"I understand. They want to put you on display. They want you to make your way to the children of the gods." He stepped closer. "I must say they are not wrong. There is great potential in your face. Your eyes, your mouth. Your body is delicate. It might go unnoticed by a careless glance. But a sharper eye cannot remain blind to the real signs."

Signs? What was he talking about?

He seemed to read these questions in her eyes.

"I'm talking about all those little traits that define a person's character. The ones that show his or her intelligence and strength. Details that come into play at times when a strong character can make the difference between life and death."

She almost choked back a hysterical laugh.

"Do you find me funny, Shadi?"

She felt the blood drain from her veins and replied in a low voice. "No, not at all. It's just that I'm wondering what signs you can ever read in my eyes. I'm shaking like a leaf. My eyes are swollen. The tears must have made them as red as blood. And I feel faint. I think I am the least strong-willed person you will ever meet, my lord."

The man let out a laugh. It echoed in his chest, so deep it sounded like the distant call of a wild beast. "I appreciate your deference, Shadi Jan Hura, but I assure you it is unnecessary. Just call me Eshfen."

Shadi would rather bite her own tongue off than give him that kind of confidence. But she had no choice. If she had been involved, she might have grasped the true stakes.

She nodded at the man.

Eshfen stood up, and for the first time she could see him in full. He was very tall. The robes he wore differed from those of the other jailers in their workmanship and richness of detail; they remained dark as night, but were woven with barely visible embroidery. The jacket had a slanted cut, with one side of the collar larger than the other, perhaps to close around the neck and protect it from the cold. The epaulets and cuffs were trimmed with shiny decorations, like dark minerals. It did not look like the clothing of a servant, and Eshfen certainly did not act like one.

Shadi realised she had stared at him too long. Slowly, as if aware of the embarrassment he was causing her, Eshfen unbuttoned his jacket, revealing the thin white shirt underneath. The wide V-neck revealed a chest of defined muscle, the deep scars telling of battles won by shedding much blood.

Shadi felt cold and warm at the same time. She looked away from the shape of his shoulders and arms. Her eyes had never rested on the form of a man who was not of her family. She knew how attractive everyone thought Roben was, but of course she still saw him as a big boy, always smiling and too eager to have fun. And her father, who also carried the weight of time with a certain elegance, was hardly the better-looking half of the couple.

When the man came up to her and put his jacket on her shoulders, she wrapped her arms around her. The fabric was warm and smelled of his skin.

She shivered.

Turning, Darjin found Laamar standing near the door of the room. With his eyes wide open, as if he had just woken from a nightmare, he shook his head. "I heard the screams and thought you were in danger. What happened?"

She was not sure.

Before she could give him even a vague reply, Narden stepped forward and placed a hand on her arm. "You will give him an answer on your way to the Lugalen, girl. Your lord will receive news he never wanted, but if you hurry, you may be able to avoid the worst."

"The worst?"

"If Yalael was telling the truth, and I wonder why he would lie on his deathbed, then the situation is far worse than you can imagine. Leoben's family is already doomed."

At those words, Darjin felt her head spin. A rush of heat and urgency set her chest on fire. Fear for Shadi's fate shook her. And the frustration of knowing so little about the forces at play filled her with anger. "Why did Yalael attack the Ensin? Surely he must have known he could not defeat him."

Narden smiled sadly. "I can only imagine the reason. But I think I would not be able to grasp the truth of his actions in any case. One thing is certain. If such a powerful man has decided to act so recklessly, then the Trials are the least of the Jan Hura family's problems. My worst nightmares are coming true."

Darjin wanted to ask her a thousand questions and force her to talk. But time seemed to have turned into a raging river, threatening to overwhelm them all and drown Shadi. "Who was he working for? On whose behalf was he acting?"

Narden stared into her eyes and spoke with disarming slowness. The words that left her mouth rang out coldly. "There is only one group of people foolish enough to act openly against the children of the gods."

Darjin took Narden's hands in her own. "Who are they? I want to know who I have to fight."

The woman inhaled and closed her eyes as she answered. "Shield in a blanket of thorns, our faith. That is their motto. They call themselves Ashen Shields."

Darjin wrinkled her forehead. Had she heard of them before?

Laamar's firm grip on her left shoulder made her jump. "This woman is delirious. We cannot listen to her any longer. Ensin Thawill has made it clear that we must leave at once."

"Delirious?"

"There is no time for stories, Dagger."

Darjin broke free of his grip and looked back at Narden. The woman moved her lips but made no sound. She seemed to be praying.

Her heart split between confusion and fear, Darjin bit the inside of her mouth. Whether the woman was mad or not, trustworthy or not, Laamar had his reasons. Time was running out.

"Thank you for talking to us, Narden. Thank you from the bottom of my heart," she said to the old woman, and squeezed her hands once more, then turned away.

Narden continued her whispered prayer, as if the hidden chant could alienate her from a world of threats and horrors.

On the threshold of the small room, Darjin turned. She took a last look at Narden. Surrounded by the dancing light of the candles, reflected on the now dark surface of the Eye, she truly looked like a witch.

"Remember, juggler," the woman said, her voice still shrinking to a very low whisper, "the Eyes can do much more than reflect distant images. The Sacred Artifacts of the gods read hearts. They recognize the worthy, they condemn the blasphemous. Remember these words and use them when all seems lost. Now go. Go and forget me."

Darjin was shaken by the warning. Like much of what she had heard since entering the room, it had no definite meaning. Not to her. Without further ado, she left the chamber with a barely whispered intimidation.

"Let's go," she said to Laamar.

He nodded and sprinted after her. Together they jumped over the low wall.

The man was confident that she had something of value to offer him. Shadi sensed it in the way he moved around her, the way he spoke to her. His questions were not really questions at all. And all the answers she had given him so far were obvious.

So what was going on? What exactly did he want?

"Thirty-three years. Soon it will be thirty-three years since our beloved Negus took power."

Aabar.

Shadi had seen his portrait dozens of times, but had never been able to meet him. Her father had told her of the day he had met him. The feelings that filled Lugalen Jan Hura's heart when he spoke of the Negus were so strong and deep that Shadi felt overwhelmed.

Under Aabar's power, Kenjir had experienced unprecedented prosperity. By all accounts, never before had their world enjoyed such peace and protection.

Aabar was loved, respected and feared.

Shadi would never question such a simple concept.

Until now.

Her very presence in this room was proof that Kenjir harboured worldviews and ideas of truth far more complex and dangerous than she could have imagined.

"Aabar is a Binder," Eshfen continued, "the Household he belongs to is the most powerful of the three that have ruled over Kenjir since before the idea of history was born."

Shadi knew it. She had studied the origins of her world. But Eshfen's tone made those notions sound like painful tales of a dark past.

"The Binders are the most charismatic, the most revered and respected, though that should not be the case. As a rule, all three Houses should enjoy equal praise and privilege. Did you know that, Shadi?"

"Yes, I was taught that the gods love all their children equally."

"Exactly!" Eshfen underlined with a snap of his fingers how pleased he was with Shadi's answer. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he moved to her side. "But if the children of the gods, the Masters, are all equal, why must a Negus be chosen?"

Shadi raised her eyebrows. She had never asked herself this question. And she came to realize that perhaps she should have.

"And why should the three Households nominate Champions? What is the point of holding the Trials and forcing their pupils to fight each other?" Eshfen continued.

Once again, Shadi found herself without answers. It was a situation that was beginning to shake her to the core. For by now she had figured it out: Eshfen wanted her to ask questions and tried to sow doubt in her mind.

"Did you know that in the entire history of Kenjir, no Household has ever ruled beyond its term? That there has never been a Negus who claimed the throne for more than thirty-three years?"

For once, Shadi could say something that did not sound silly or trivial. "Yes. It is written in the Hymns to the Reasons. The law says that the Household that receives the throne must be different from the one that held it before the Trials began. This makes it impossible for the same Negus to rule the kingdom for more than thirty-three years.

"Very good, Shadi Jan Hura." For a moment, Eshfen sounded almost like a good-natured and pleased teacher. "It is a pleasure to hear the voice of a young woman who has not underestimated or completely ignored the lessons of her teachers."

Yet she felt totally inadequate and did not think she had shown much knowledge of the world around her.

"Why do you think the laws are so specific regarding the succession to the throne?"

"I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that," she admitted.

"You are in very good company. The people of Kenjir are not accustomed to asking such questions. They accept the leadership of the Masters without blinking an eye. They have been instructed to eradicate all curiosity from their hearts and to ignore all doubt. Sadly, this has been the case for thousands of years."

Eshfen stepped in front of her and held out his hand.

Shadi looked at it. Long, strong fingers, deep scars on the knuckles and back.

"Please follow me."

Certain that she could not do otherwise, Shadi accepted his invitation. She took his hand, stood up and walked with him to the other side of the room, to their left.

Eshfen picked up a candelabra and brought it close to the wall, which had been in semi-darkness until then.

The candlelight illuminated a large tapestry.

Shadi stifled a gasp of amazement at the sight of the infinity of strands chasing each other, intertwining, separating and rejoining to form an image so beautiful it was breathtaking.

"The Masters," she whispered.

Eshfen nodded. He began to shine his light on the tapestry from left to right, slowly, with a reverence that his words had not hinted at.

"The three Champions. The Binder, the Tutor and the Nurturer. Three giants floating in the clouds above Kenjir. Three gods and sons of gods who rule the capital, who rule all things."

The tapestry was so richly woven, and the colors so vibrant, that Shadi thought the three figures might move at any moment.

"Imagine what it would be like to be the bride of one of them? Of the Negus, even."

Shadi had never considered it a real possibility. Her imagination had not reached that far. She did not believe she could please her parents and return home with a promise of marriage that would make them even vaguely happy. Not to mention getting married to the future Regent.

"I never dared."

"So there is no ambition in your heart? Are the Trials just a duty for you?"

"I am not ashamed of it. I obey my parents most of the time. I try to honor the good name of my family."

"Most of the time?"

"I'm sure they would both like me to be much more resigned and taciturn."

Eshfen chuckled, as if Shadi's little confession was endlessly interesting. "Your attitude is noble. Blind, but noble."

"Blind?"

"What if you were that girl? What if, of all the dozens of young women who flocked to the Trials, you were the one chosen by the next Negus? What would you do?"

"Would I have a choice?"

"No. That's the point. You'd be forced into a life beyond your wildest nightmares. Perhaps even now, you feel like a pawn in the hands of powers greater and stronger than you. You are not wrong. You are an object, a means to an end, a currency. You'd become a magnificent trophy, brandished by the victorious Household. Beautiful, untouchable, and utterly, inexorably helpless."

Shadi had seen many portraits of the Consort, at least a dozen within the walls of the fortress where she had grown up. The bride of the Negus was always covered in veils and jewels. Motionless as a stone statue, even her face was hidden from the eyes of those who painted her. "The bride loses her name. She is called The Promise," she recited. Those words, studied so many years ago, came back to her mouth and never seemed so sad as at that moment.

Eshfen turned to her. The flickering glow of the candelabra drew tongues of light across his angular face. It ignited his eyes with fervor. "A symbol. You’d be a symbol."

He came closer.

She stepped back.

"The Promise is a woman who has given up her desires, her hopes and her dreams to become a reflection, an echo of the Negus."

"Many of my female peers would say they are quite attracted to the idea."

"I don't doubt it," sighed Eshfen. "Those girls are already blind. There is no need for someone to cover their eyes with fine veils and precious stones. They are incapable of seeing beyond their own noses."

Shadi felt the pit of her stomach tighten. She, too, had harbored the same contempt for their posturing. The complicated reconciliation with Norain, and even the recent conversation with Kerina, had alleviated some of the bitterness these thoughts caused her, but it had not dispelled it entirely. She had to admit that the possibility of being given in marriage to the Negus, while remote, frightened her. But she also had the impression that Eshfen's speech was pointing in a direction she could only guess at. "What lies beyond our noses?"

Eshfen smiled. His mouth barely opened in an almost feline gesture.

"The truth. The most terrible."