The lead soldier glanced back at his men, uncertain. Siri didn't get to see if they obeyed or not, for the servants shuffled her around a corner into a long, black hallway. Siri tried to show a resolved face. She'd come to the palace to be wedded, and was determined to make a favorable impression on the G.o.d King. She would act composed. Even if she really was just terrified. What was she doing? Why hadn't she run? Why hadn't she wiggled out of this somehow? Why couldn't they have all just let her be?

There was no escape now. As the serving women led her down a corridor into the deep black palace, the last remnants of her former life disappeared behind her.

She was now alone.

Lanterns with colored gla.s.s lit the walls. Siri was led through several twists and turns in the dark pa.s.sages. She tried to remember her way back to the carriage, but was soon hopelessly lost. The servants surrounded her like an honor guard, but did not push her, now that she was moving. Though all were female, they were of differing ages. Each wore a blue cap on the head, hair loose out the back, and they kept their eyes downcast. Their clothing was of a shimmering blue, and was loose-fitting, even through the bust. Siri blushed at the low-cut fronts. In Idris, women kept even their necks covered.

The black corridor eventually opened into a much larger room. Siri hesitated in the doorway. While the stone walls of this room were black, they had been draped in silks of a deep maroon. In fact, everything in the room was maroon, from the carpeting, to the furniture, to the tubs-surrounded by tile-in the center of the room.

The servants began to pick at her clothing, undressing her. Siri jumped, swatting at a few hands, causing them to pause in surprise. Then, they attacked with renewed vigor, and Siri realized that she didn't have a choice except to grit her teeth and bear the treatment. She raised her arms up, letting the servants pull off her dress and underclothing, and felt her hair grow red as she blushed. At least the room was warm.

She shivered anyway. She was forced to stand, naked, as other servants approached, bearing measuring tapes. They poked and prodded, getting various measurements, including ones around Siri's waist, bust, shoulders, and hips. When that was finished, the women backed away, and the room fell still. The bath continued to steam in the center of the chamber. Several of the serving women gestured toward it.

Guess I'm allowed to wash myself, Siri thought with relief, walking up the tile steps. She stepped carefully into the ma.s.sive tub, and was pleased at how warm the water was. She lowered herself into the water, letting herself relax just a fraction.

Soft splashes sounded behind her, and she spun. Several other serving women-these ones wearing brown-were climbing down into the tub, fully clothed, holding brushes and soap. Siri sighed, yielding herself to their care as they began to scrub vigorously at her body and hair. She closed her eyes, enduring the treatment with as much dignity as she could manage.

That left her time to think, which was not good. That only allowed her to consider just what was happening too her. Her anxiety immediately returned.

The Lifeless weren't as bad as the stories, she thought, trying to rea.s.sure herself. And the city colors are far more pleasant than I expected. Maybe... maybe the G.o.d King isn't as terrible as everyone says.

"Ah, good," a voice said. "We're right on schedule. Perfect."

Siri froze. That was a man's voice. She snapped her eyes open to find an older man in brown robes standing beside the tub, writing something on a ledger. He was balding and had a round, pleasant face. A young boy stood next to him, bearing extra sheets of paper and a small jar of ink for the man to use in dipping his quill.

Siri screamed, startling several of her servants as she moved with a sudden splashing motion, covering herself with her arms.

The man with the ledger hesitated, looking down. "Is something wrong, vessel?"

"I'm bathing," she snapped.

"Yes," the man said. "I believe I can tell that."

"Well, why are you watching?"

The man c.o.c.ked his head. "But, I'm a royal servant, far beneath your station..." he said, then trailed off. "Ah, yes. Idris sensibilities. I had forgotten. Ladies, please splash around, make some more bubbles in the bath."

The serving women did as asked, churning up bubbles and foam in the soapy water.

"There," the man said, turning back to his ledger. "I can't see a thing. Now, let us get on with this. It would not do to keep the G.o.d King waiting on his wedding day!"

Siri reluctantly allowed the bathing to continue, though she was careful to keep certain bits of anatomy well beneath the water. The women worked furiously, scrubbing hard enough that Siri was half-afraid they'd rub her skin right off.

"As you might guess," the man said, "we're on a very tight schedule. There's much to do, and I would like this all to go as smoothly as possible."

Siri frowned. "And... who exactly are you?"

The man glanced at her, causing her to duck down beneath the suds a little more. Her hair, she noticed, was as bright a red as it had ever been.

"My name is Hava.r.s.eth, but everyone just calls me Bluefingers." He held up a hand and wiggled the fingers, which were all stained dark with blue ink from writing. "I am head scribe and steward to his Excellent Grace Susebron, G.o.d King of Hallandren. In simpler terms, I manage the palace attendants and oversee all servants in the Court of G.o.ds."

He paused, eying her. "I also make certain that everyone stays on schedule and does what they are supposed to."

Some of the younger girls-wearing brown, like the ones bathing Siri-began bringing pitchers of water to the side of the tub, and the women used these to rinse Siri's hair. She turned about to let them, though she tried to keep a waterlogged eye on Bluefingers and his serving boy.

"Now," Bluefingers said. "The palace tailors are working very quickly on your gown. We had a good estimate of your size, but final measurements were necessary to complete the process. We should have the garment ready for you in a short time."

The serving women dunked Siri's head again.

"There are some things we need to discuss," Bluefingers continued, voice distorted by the water in Siri's ears. "I presume you have been taught the proper method of treating his Royal Excellency?"

Siri glanced at him, then looked away. She probably had been taught, but she didn't really remember-and either way, wasn't in a frame of mind to concentrate.

"Ah," Bluefingers said, apparently reading her expression. "Well then, this could be... interesting. Allow me to give you some suggestions."

Siri nodded.

"First, please understand that the G.o.d King's will is law. He needs no reason or justification for what he does. Your life, like all of our lives, is in his hands. Second, please understand that the G.o.d King does not speak with people such as you or I. You will not talk to him when you go to him. Do you understand?"

Siri spit out a bit of soapy water. "You mean I'm not even able to be able to speak to my husband?"

"I'm afraid not," Bluefingers said. "None of us can."

"Then how does he make judgments and rulings?" she asked, wiping her eyes.

"The Council of G.o.ds handles the kingdom's more mundane needs," Bluefingers explained. "The G.o.d King is above the day-to-day governance. When it is necessary for him to communicate, he gives his judgments to his priests, who then reveal them to the world."

Great, Siri thought.

"It is unconventional that you are allowed to touch him," Bluefingers continued. "Fathering a child is a necessary enc.u.mbrance for him. It is our job to present you in as pleasing a way as possible, and avoid-at all costs-irritating him."

Austre, G.o.d of colors, she thought. What kind of creature is this?

Bluefingers eyed her. "I know something of your temperament, Vessel," he said. "We have, of course, researched the children of the Idris monarchy. Allow me be a little more personal, and perhaps a little more direct, than I would prefer. If you speak directly to the G.o.d King, he will order you executed. Unlike your father, he is not a man of patience.

"I cannot stress this point enough, Vessel. I realize fully that you are accustomed to being a very important person. Indeed, you still are that important-if not more so. You are far above myself and these others. However, as far as you are above us, the G.o.d King is even farther above you.

"The G.o.d King is... special. The doctrines teach that the earth itself is too base for him. He is one who obtained transcendence before he was even born, but then Returned to bring his people blessings and visions. You are being given a special trust. Please, do not betray it-and please, please to not rile his anger. Do you understand?"

Siri nodded slowly, feeling her hair bleach back to white. She tried to steel herself, but any bit of courage she could gather felt like a sham. No, this creature wasn't going to be stomached as easily as the Lifeless or the city colors. His reputation in Idris wasn't exaggerated.

In a short time, he was going to take her body and do with it as he wished. Part of her felt a rage at that-but it was the rage of frustration. The rage that came from knowing that something horrible was coming, and from being unable to do anything at all about it.

The serving women backed away from her, leaving her half-floating in the soapy water. One of the servants looked to Bluefingers and nodded her head in respect.

"Ah, finished are we?" he asked. "Excellent. You and your ladies are efficient, as always, Jlan. Let us proceed, then."

"Can't they speak?" Siri asked quietly.

"Of course they can," Bluefingers said. "But they are dedicated servants of his Excellency. During their hours of service, their duty is to be as useful as possible without being distracting. Now, if you'll continue..."

Siri stayed in the water, even when the silent women tried to pull her out. Bluefingers turned around with a sigh, putting his back to her. He reached over and turned the serving boy around as well.

Siri finally allowed herself to be led out of the bath. The wet women left her, walking into a side room-probably to change-and several others approached, leading Siri toward a smaller tub, apparently intended for rinsing. She stepped down into the water, which was much colder than the other bath, and gasped. The women motioned for her to dunk, and she cringed, but did so, cleaning off most of the soap. After that, there was a final, third tub. As Siri approached, shivering, she could smell strong floral scents coming from it.

"What's this?" Siri asked.

"Perfumed bath," Bluefingers said, still turned away. "If you prefer, you may have one of the palace ma.s.seuses rub perfume onto your body instead. I advise against that, however, considering time restraints..."

Siri blushed, imagining anyone-male or female-rubbing her body with perfume. "This will be fine," she said, climbing down into the water. It was lukewarm, and the floral scents were so strong that she had to breathe through her mouth.

The women motioned downward, and-sighing-Siri dunked beneath the scented water. After that, she climbed out, and several women finally approached with fluffy towels. They began to pat Siri down, their touch as delicate and soft as the previous scrubbing had been hard. This took away some of the strong scent, for which Siri was glad. Other women approached with a deep blue robe, and she extended her arms, allowing them to put it on her, then tie it shut. "You may turn around," she told the steward.

"Excellent," Bluefingers said, doing so. He strode toward a door at the side of the room, waving for her. "Quickly, now. We still have much to do."

Siri and the serving women followed, leaving the maroon room for one that was decorated in bright yellows. It held a lot more furniture, no bath, and a large plush chair in the center of the room.

"His majesty is a.s.sociated with no single hue," Bluefingers said, waving to the bright colors of the room as the women led Siri to the plush chair. "He represents all colors and each of the Iridescent Tones. Therefore, each room is decorated with a different color."

Siri sat, and the women began to work on her nails. Another tried to brush out the snarls that had come from the hearty washing. Siri frowned. "Just cut it off," she said.

They hesitated. "Vessel?" one asked.

"Cut off the hair," she said.

Bluefingers gave them permission, and a few snips later, her hair was in a bunch on the floor. Then Siri closed her eyes and focused.

She wasn't certain how she did it. The Royal Locks had always been part of her life; altering them was like moving any other muscle to her, if a little more difficult. In a few moments, she was able to get the hair to grow.

Several women gasped softly as the hair sprouted from Siri's head and moved down to her shoulders. Growing it made her feel hungry and tired, but it was better than letting the women fight snarls. Finished, she opened her eyes.

Bluefingers was watching her with a curious expression, his ledger held loosely in his fingers. "That is... fascinating," he said. "The Royal Locks. We have waited quite some time for them to grace the palace again, Vessel. You can change the color at will?"

"Yes," Siri said. Though most of the time, it changes at its own will. "Is it too long?"

"Long hair is seen as a sign of beauty in Hallandren, my lady," Bluefingers said. "I know you keep it bound up in Idris, but here, flowing hair is favored by many of the women-particularly the G.o.ddesses."

Part of her wanted to keep the hair short just out of spite. She was beginning to realize that such an att.i.tude, however, could get her killed in Hallandren. Instead, she closed her eyes and focused again. The hair had been shoulder length, but she extended it for several minutes, making it grow until it would reach all the way down her back once she stood.

Siri opened her eyes.

"Beautiful," one of the younger serving women whispered, then flushed, immediately returning to her work on Siri's toenails.

"Very nice," Bluefingers agreed. "I will leave you here-I have a few things to be about-but will return shortly."

Siri nodded as he left, and several women moved in and began to apply makeup. Siri suffered it pensively, others still working on her nails and hair. This wasn't how she had imagined her wedding day. Marriage had always seemed distant to her, something that would only happen after spouses had been chosen for her siblings. When she'd been very young, in fact, she'd always said that she intended to raise horses instead of getting married.

She'd grown out of that, but a piece of her felt a longing for such simple times. She didn't want to be married. Not yet. She still felt like a child, even if her body had become that of a woman. She wanted to play in the hills and pick flowers and tease her father. She wanted time to experience more of life before she was forced into the responsibilities of child-bearing.

Fate had taken that opportunity away from her. Now she was faced by the imminent prospect of going to a man's bed. A man who wouldn't speak to her, and who wouldn't care who she was or what she wanted. She knew the physical requirements of what would be involved-she could thank Mab the cook for some candid discussions on that point-but emotionally, she just felt petrified. Everything was all wrong. She wanted to run, hide, flee as far as she could.

Did all women feel this way, or was it only those who were being washed, cleaned, and sent to please a deity with the power to destroy nations?

Bluefingers eventually returned. Another person entered behind him, an elderly man in the blue and silver clothing Siri was beginning to a.s.sociate with those who served the G.o.d King.

But... Bluefingers wears brown, Siri thought, frowning. Why is that?

"Ah, I see that my timing is perfect," Bluefingers said as the women finished. They retreated to the sides of the room, heads bowed slightly.

Bluefingers nodded to the elderly man. "Vessel, this is one of the palace healers. Before you are taken to the G.o.d King, you will need to be inspected to determine if you are a maiden and to ensure that you don't have certain diseases. It's really just a formality, but one that I'm afraid I must insist upon. In consideration of your bashfulness, I did not bring the young healer I had originally a.s.signed to the job. I a.s.sume an older healer will make you more comfortable?"

Siri sighed, but nodded. Bluefingers gestured toward a padded table on the side of the room, then he and his serving boy turned around. Siri undid her robe and went to the table, lying down to continue what was proving to be the most embarra.s.sing day of her life.

It will only get worse, she thought as the doctor did his examination.

Susebron, the G.o.d King. Awesome, terrible, holy, majestic. He had been stillborn, but had Returned. What did that do to a man? Would he even be human? Would he be some monster, terrible to behold? He was said to be eternal, but obviously his reign would end, otherwise he wouldn't need an heir.

She shivered, partially wishing it would just be over with, but also partially relieved for anything that stalled for just a little longer, even something as humiliating as the doctor's prodding. It eventually finished, however, and Siri quickly did up her robe again, standing.

"She is quite healthy," the healer said to Bluefingers. "And most likely still a maiden. She has a very strong Breath, as well."

Siri froze. How could he tell...

And then she saw it. She had to look very closely, but the yellow floor around the surgeon looked a tad too bright. She felt herself pale, though the nervousness had already made her hair as white as it went.

The doctor is an Awakener, she thought. There is an Awakener here, in this room. And he touched me.

She cringed, skin writhing. It was wrong to take the Breath from another person. It was the ultimate in arrogance, the complete opposite of Idris philosophy. Others in Hallandren simply wore bright colors to draw attention to themselves, but Awakeners... they stole the life from human beings, and used that to make themselves stand out.

Use of Breath was one of the main reasons that the Royal line had moved to the highlands in the first place. Modern day Hallandren subsisted on the basis of extorting its people out of its Breath. Siri felt more naked now than she had been when unclothed. What could this Awakener tell about her, because of his unnatural life force? Was he tempted to steal Siri's BioChroma? She tried to breathe as shallowly as possible, just in case.

Eventually, Bluefingers and the terrible doctor left the room. The women approached to undo her robe once again, some bearing undergarments.

He will be worse, she realized. The King. He's not just an Awakener, he's Returned. He needs to suck the Breath from people in order to survive.

Would he take away her Breath?

No, that won't happen, she told herself firmly. He needs me to provide him with an heir of the Royal line. He won't risk the child's safety. He'll leave me my Breath, if only until then.

But... what would happen to her when she was no longer needed?

Her attention was drawn away from such thoughts as several serving women approached with a large bundle of cloth. A dress. No, a gown-a gorgeous gown of blue and silver.

Siri waited quietly as the women put it on her. The fabric was amazingly soft on her skin, the velvet smooth like petals from a highland flower. As the women situated it on her, she noticed that-oddly-that it laced up the side, instead of the back. It had an extremely long train and sleeves that were so long that if she put her arms down at the sides, the cuffs hung several feet below her hands. It took several minutes for the women to get the ties done up right, the folds situated correctly, and the train arranged behind her. All this so that it can be taken off again in a few minutes, Siri thought with a detached sense of cold irony as a woman approached with a mirror.

Siri froze.

Where had all that color come from? The delicately red cheeks, the mysteriously dark eyes, the blue on the top of her eyelids? The deep red lips, the almost glowing skin? The gown shone silver upon blue, bulky yet beautiful, with ripples of deep, velvet cloth.