Lenna stepped away, a hand raising to her chin as she inspected Natalin critically. “Hmm.”

“Can I go?”

“You can go when I say you’re ready,” Lenna said, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Natalin groaned, her shoulders slumping.

“Do stand straight.”

“They’ll be here any minute.”

“You should have thought of that before you decided to sleep the afternoon away, hmm?”

She gave up. It wasn’t doing her any good to argue with the maid, not when she was in one of her moods. It was like Natalin’s perfection - or lack thereof - was some sort of blemish to her honor. Right then, Natalin didn’t care. Her stomach was growling, complaining about the day’s exertion and her lack of feeding it, and her legs were beginning to ache ominously. Dealing with Lenna was more than she could handle.

But, truly, she didn’t understand the maid’s fervor. She eyed herself in the mirror, the nearly ceiling-high wall of silvered glass she’d been drug in front of.

The high-collared, sleeveless dress Lenna had buttoned her into seemed passable enough to Natalin, which meant that it would probably be considered ‘lovely’ by anyone else’s standards. A string of drift-glass beads circled her waist in loop after loop of sea-green orbs, tied off with a metal loop. And Lenna had even managed to fix her hair, braiding it back in elegant rows that somehow managed to bring out the blue streaks that wove it through.

She looked fine. More than passable - and no matter how many times Lenna poked and prodded, nothing was changing.

“Lenna, I’m going to be late.”

“Oh, fine. I suppose that’ll do. Be polite, now. Don’t talk with your mouth full. And-”

Natalin’s ears were already burning as she turned on her heel, leaping towards the door. “Right. Thanks, Lenna!”

The maid’s exasperated sigh vanished behind her as she skidded into the hallway, her soft-soled sandals sliding across the smooth floorboards. She hardly slowed to catch herself. The Sanctuary wasn’t far, but she was cutting things close.

The amused laughter of the temple’s seers echoed through the halls around her as she raced towards Efren’s domain as quickly as she could. The dress made everything harder, constricting her movements and making it harder to breathe.

Her blood chilled as she came around the next corner - and saw horses, tied to the post outside. One of the Riverguard was already taking their tack off, rubbing them down. Their gear bore emblems sewn in red and black, not the silver and blue of Ondria.

In a last, final whirl of desperation, she turned her thoughts outward. Am I

They’re still settling into their rooms, putting their bags down, Efren murmured in her ear. You haven’t missed it yet. Gerd is getting anxious, though. His mental tone was carefully soothing, but there was a laugh hiding just under its surface.

A bead of sweat slipped down the small of her back. She’d dodged one arrow - but put herself right in front of another.

But the looming, carved wooden doors of the Sanctuary were waiting right in front of her as she dashed around the next corner. She pushed through with a relieved sigh, coming to a halt at last. Her legs were trembling with the adrenaline, and she was trying to pretend she wasn’t breathing hard, but she’d made it.

There were tables set up, low-slung to the ground. They waited in a loose box, with more thrown here and there. She’d never seen his Sanctuary look so big before - but Efren had never needed such a big Sanctuary during her tenure. It was his space, the domain of the Divines. If he needed more room, it would provide it.

Efren waited on the far side of the room, glancing over at the sound of her entry. A wide, amused smile settled across his face at the sight of her, red-faced and glaring.

“Ah, waterlily,” he said, his smile widening. “Glad you could join us.”

Gerd leapt to his feet from the table beside the Everdeep. His face was every bit as beet red as Natalin’s. His hand came up, one finger extended like a sword. It quivered with barely-contained frustration.

“Tideborn, I believe I told you to-”

“There, there, diviner, she made it, eh?” Efren said, slapping Gerd on the back. “That’s what matters.”

The silvered man shook from the force of the impact, his complaints dying away as he tried to gather himself. Natalin knew that none of this was new for Gerd - he’d have dealt with the carefree, easygoing water god for years before she was born. Those years had done nothing to dim the awe that shone in his eyes as he slid back into his seat, muttering darkly. There was little he could do to argue with a god, after all.

Seizing upon the brief reprieve she’d been given, Natalin scurried forward, throwing herself down onto the cushion Efren nodded towards. The Waterbinder was a massive, looming shield alongside her, a ward to keep the irritated stares of Gerd and the others off of her.

The rest of the seers were beginning to file in all the while, murmuring quietly to each other and offering Efren reverent bows as they approached. He accepted them with a nod and an indulgent grin, sipping from the bottle that had once again appeared in his hand.

There. She’d made it. Her work was done. Taking a deep breath, Natalin tried to settle her thundering heart, to steady her breathing a little. The flow of people through the door wasn’t slowing - more seers, yes, but cityfolk as well. The Presentation was an event for all of Ondria, after all, not just the gods’ servants. Their eyes were even rounder as they slipped in, making their way to the back of the room in anxious rows.

Staring at the table in front of her, trying to will the color to fade a bit from her cheeks, her ears, she scarcely noticed when the timbre of the room changed. She did take heed, finally, when the yelling and banter that had filled the room died away, replaced by a constant, echoing murmur that slipped from a hundred throats.

There were others, standing behind the cityfolk - who jumped free in an instant, realizing who they were blocking.

Just for a moment, they hesitated. They were still half-hidden by shadow, but Natalin saw them pause.

“Enter, and be welcome,” Gerd said, raising his voice gently to be heard over the bystanders.

That should probably have been her job, Natalin realized, adrenaline piercing her veins all over again. Efren’s low chuckle rippled through the air between them.

There were seven of them - just like she’d counted down on the river. The confirmation of what she’d already known left a sour taste in her mouth as they stepped towards the table.

Natalin flinched, masking a cough under her hand. The smell of smoke filled the room, sliding across the space between their party and her to seep down her nostrils. She’d been warned that the magic of other gods would have its own scent, just as hers carried the tang of rain with it. She’d been told that the Charred smelled like smoke. But it was softer, somehow, muted, like the first acrid wisps drifting off a candle that had been blown out.

She could see him, then, standing amidst his dark-haired friends, all clad in leather-and-chain armor. His ashen, white-grey hair would have been enough to set him apart - if he wasn’t making a face that told her he was reacting to the smell of her magic in much the same way.

Efren stood, a grin spreading across his face. She followed suit a heartbeat after him, remembering herself. But he seemed to be...waiting.

The first embers cascading down from thin air were nearly enough to set her to jumping back. But Gerd had warned her about this, too. Natalin held her ground, head raised stubbornly, as the flames whirled, coalescing into a tiny, spritely form.

Her eyes shone brilliant gold as they snapped open, appearing from within the vanishing sparks. Her teeth gleamed white as she beamed.

And then the Flameweaver launched herself across the room, leaping towards Efren with her brilliant hair trailing in her wake like a fireball.