Oris watched the white hair of the priestess warily as she led the group of male scribes to greet the Empress Dowager.

The woman wore a white gown with an impressive trail that needed four attendants to carry. Her skin was the color of baked clay, smooth and supple like the skin of a berry; her lips were painted with ash; tattoos of black ink swirled about half of her face and down her collar in bewitching patterns.

Her hair was a color purer than that of her gown and completely natural. It was cut short, with all of the tightly curled strands just inches above her scalp but the bold color was enough to make them stand out.

It was what made Oris know to not treat this test lightly.

This woman was a Deàdim, the currently vessel of Sūn and a priestess of the highest order. The combination was a rarity, seeing as the gods chose humans that were the embodiment of their ideals as vessels and priestesses were untouched, holy women who had severed their ties to the mortal world.

How can a saint be the Deàdim for the god of war?

Oris found it strange that the title belonged to a priestess that looked two years her junior, and stranger still that Hermes wasn't Sūn's Deàdim—though she had to admit that white hair wouldn't have looked good on him. To be the Deàdim of Heshera meant being the consolidation of all the nation's spiritual power in one being.

If this priestess was not trusted by the Emperor, she would have been killed three times over. Once, for being closer to Sūn than Hermes; a second time for having the power to influence the masses through religion, and a final, third time for being more dignified—yet younger—than the Empress Dowager.

"Forgive me," the priestess said after rising. Her voice was loud and deep. It didn't sound like what should come from someone so small and frail—looking. "I am late."

"How could you be late?" The Empress Dowager laughed but her voice cold. "I am sure that when you arrived was most auspicious."

If the priestess noticed the woman's scorn, she didn't show it. She bowed her head low then turned to face the rest of the hall, both her hands clasped and hidden by her sleeves.

"The first test of the selection will begin now," she said with a level voice. "Each candidate will be supervised by a scribe, with only the period of a burnt incense stick to complete the task before them."

The scribes dispersed in pairs.

Oris didn't take her eyes off the priestess, her gaze scanning the petite woman from head to toe in search of an ounce of godly power.

She found none and felt disappointment creep up into her lungs and leave her in a long exhale.

She sensed, more than saw, two scribes occupying the seats on her left and right.

In that moment, she understood. Though the priestess said that everyone was supervised by a scribe, they were actually being watched closely by four.

First of all, the seats were not equally spaced. A candidate and their scribe sat closest to each other, with the scribe on their left-hand side if they were on the left side of the hall and the opposite if they were on the right. At the same time, the scribe of another candidate would still be a short distance from the nearest candidate. The was the case for everyone seat in the hall except those at the beginning and end of the line.

The scribes directly supervising three candidates—the ones by the side and the one directly opposite—could simultaneously monitor another candidate, and there was a guard behind every seat.

Even a god could not cheat in such a situation.

Oris felt sorry for the parents that had given their daughters away thinking that they would achieve status quickly. It seemed that Hermes and his mother were taking extreme measures to thin down the herd.

It made her wonder why the Emperor had gathered so many women in the first place. Where would those who failed this test go to? Would they be expelled from the palace? Executed?

As though the priestess had read her mind, she started speaking again, "This selection will be divided into several categories. Your performance in each will determine your final rank in the palace. Be aware that not everyone will get a position in the harem. Your time begins now."

So that is it. Oris finally returned her gaze to her table, ignoring the burst of conversation that followed the priestess' words.

No candidate was getting expelled, so technically no one could fail the selection. It was just that those with low scores would not serve Hermes in bed.

They would become maids or servants, entertainers if they were lucky.

"Mistress?" Andrea called, her voice filled with worry.

"I am fine," Oris said honestly. A maid could still become a queen. It had happened before and it will happen again.

She didn't care for the throne though. She just wanted to survive. After that, she would worry about her standing among the women in the harem.

The scribe beside her pulled the red cloth off the table, folding it immediately as what it had covered was finally revealed. Two boxes. When he placed the folded cloth to the side and took the lids off, Oris realized that the boxes contained objects much smaller than their volumes.

Even the small box was larger than the item in the larger box.

Oris felt like laughing. How many psychological tactics will the royal family employ during this selection?

The scribe took out a tablet from the bigger box and a stylus from the small one then set the boxes on the floor, giving Oris more time to examine what was in front of her.

She prodded the side of the tablet with her little finger and stared at the small indentation that formed. It was soft yet firm, like damp clay or soft wood. Whatever was written on it could not be erased, only scratched out.

Keziah had been right. The first test was on writing.

Oris picked up the stylus. It was more ornate than the ordinary-looking tablet, almost see-through with sparkles trapped in the glossing. It was pretty enough to have passed for a slightly bulky hairpin.

She tapped her pointer finger lightly on its sharp tip and felt a sting on her skin. It could be an efficient murder weapon too.

It was too bad that there was no opportunity to test it out—not while l keeping her head anyway. Besides, there was no target around her to sacrifice her life for. Why would she try to kill another candidate?

Oris shook her head and set down the stylus, as well her darkening thoughts. It was silly of her to even think of it.

The scribe beside her unfolded a parchment and cleared his throat. "These are the questions."

His voice sounded old and grave, much like that of the priestess he served. He didn't look much older than her but his voice carried the weight of a wizened grandfather.

What an interesting group of people. Oris said nothing and took the parchment as carefully as she could. The feel of the well-treated animal skin beneath her fingers nearly took her into the past, into the four-story library in the castle of Orse.

She brought herself back before she travelled too far, biting down hard on her tongue.

"Watch the incense," her scribe reminded her as she read through the questions.

Most of them were about the empire. When Hermes came to power. How he reunited the world. His allies and his foes.

Some were about Inae. Hermes past as an unwanted child. How he was sent to the army as an unfavoured prince. His victories and his near victories.

The remaining few were personal. What do you think of the Emperor? What do you appreciate the most about him? Why do you want to enter his harem?

It was those three questions at the end that stumped Oris the most. She almost laughed again.

How will these questions marked? Which answer will be correct? Which will be wrong?

She picked the stylus again, this time with the intent to write.

The questions were easy. For someone like herself who had spent weeks studying for imperial exams she should have been trained from birth to pass, an essay on the formation of the world would not be a challenge talk less of the history of a mere man.

With the graceful flick of her wrist, she placed a period on her first sentence.

When did Hermes come to power? Of course, it was when he captured the last free territory behind the sea and slayed the Queen of Orse.

Who were his enemies? Of course, they were the men and women whose severed heads hung on the city gates of Inae for three days.

What spurred his ambitions? Of course, it was because his father did not believe that a half-breed could rule his kingdom and so kicked his poor little son to the dogs. The little prince conquered kingdoms in order to have enough power to kill his father.

Oris did not take a moment's pause as she wrote. Trapped in the power of her own words, she did not heed the passing time until the scribe by her side announced, "A minute left."

She had just gotten to the last three questions. The stylus screeched softly as it stopped, forming a small gash at the end of her sentence.

Oris stared blankly at the nearly full tablet, horrified. How is this sticking with the shadows?

Impassioned by the opportunity to put her knowledge to use, she had forgotten that she was meant to be obscure, invisible.

This sort of essay, won't it just draw attention to herself? Oris felt a bead of sweat roll down her cheek. She was down to the last seconds of the test, she couldn't even cross things out if she wanted.

Knowing that she had backed herself into the edge of a cliff, Oris decided to go all out to the end. This wasn't the only test, she could still do poorly in the others.

Having a high score on the quiz about the Emperor was both good and bad. While most would say it was a fluke, she would say that it was the only history she knew.

Oris hurriedly answered the last questions.

What do I think of the Emperor?

He is wise.

What do I appreciate most about the Emperor? It took a second longer to find the answer. It was clear that the answer should have something to do with his physical appearance.

His hair.

It was the only thing about him that had captured her attention for more time than necessary. That and his sun-blessed skin but she had a feeling that had answer would be less well-received.

Why do I want to enter his harem? Because I have no home.

Just as soon as she was about to lay down her stylus a bell rang. It was at that moment she noticed the gash on the tablet.

She hurriedly sketched budding flowers atop it to beautify the damage then bowed to the scribe. "Thank you for your assistance."

If he hadn't warned her of the time, she wouldn't have been able to answer all the questions.

The man bow his head low. "It is my duty."

He took the tablet and stylus and put them in their respective boxes.

Oris bowed her head as well and rolled up the parchment.

"Thanking mister for his supervisions." She handed it to him.

He nodded and placed both the parchment and the box containing the stylus into the larger box.

He stood up in synchrony with the rest of the scribes, and started walking in the direction of the throne. The guard followed.

Oris watched the processing, admiring the order of it all. It looked as though the scribes and the guards had practiced their match together dozens of times before now.

Her gaze shot up to the Empress Dowager. She noted the smug look the woman carried. I should have known.

Of course, they would have practiced. Some of the women here were former princesses of once existing kingdoms. Which one of them were not used to elegance and finery?

If there was anything lacking in the mannerisms of the people in the Royal Palace, who would know it better than them?

The Empress Dowager was using this opportunity to show that everyone under her control is strictly adherent to her rules, there was no chance of a slip up.

"All rise," an eunuch by the side of the throne announced loudly.

Oris clasped her hands in front of her and stood as gracefully as she could. The moment she did, it was as though she had broken through a film that had been wrapped around her because of her earlier concentration.

She was suddenly aware of the whispers behind her—her maids; the whispers in front of her—Hermes' future brides—and the whispers of the scribes that now surrounded their high priestess.

The hall had become so impossibly loud and the noise would have escalated if not for the eunuch's cry for silence.

"Should we have slipped the scribe a coin?" Andrea asked, sounding a little nervous.

"Have faith in our Mistress," Seline said just as Mayree scoffed.

"Do we have coin to spare?" the oldest maid asked.

Oris let out a small laugh. "You three are so silly."

"Your answers were unique," Keziah said. "I have no doubt that if all things are fair, you will place first."

"If all things are fair," Oris repeated with a wry smile then curtsied along with the other women in the room as the eunuch called for their dismissal.

"The results will be announced this coming dawn," the priestess announced as the great double doors swung open.

Dawn was over half a day away.

Oris wondered what she was going to do with her free time.

~