The great hall was alive with the sounds of the feast: the buzz of mingled voices, the clink of goblet and platter, the distant whine of reeded pipes. Officially my birthday celebration, truly it was more than that—tomorrow, the Trials began.

Though the sun had set, God-Blooded males still filtered through the ornate, two-story wooden doors at the far end of the hall: nobles and soldiers, politicians and the wealthiest of merchants’ sons. Even a few low-born, brave or foolish enough to think they’d ever be allowed a chance to win a Korai.

But if any of them thought they were likely to defeat Varian, their foolishness more closely resembled delusion.

I’d long been forgotten by the High Priestess—the woman who had raised me and was the only true mother I’d known—as she exchanged excited words with the Emperor. Seated beside me, the ancient male—and Varian’s father—seemed to notice my boredom. His rheumy blue eyes twinkled with mirth as they slid my way.

“Excited?” he asked.

I tried to smile. “Of course.”

The lie filled my mouth with sickly sweetness and my weak attempt at a grin turned to a grimace.

On my other side, the High Priestess chuckled. “Excuse her, Your Majesty. Aurora is a terrible liar.”

“In my experience, the Korai usually are.” The ancient male’s gaze tightened, crow’s feet crinkling like crumpled parchment. “Varian’s own mother couldn’t lie to save her life.”

His words rang hollow in my ears and I swallowed thickly. Her life. While Queen Ileana had died long before I was even born, the story of her death was well known, and it always sent unease crawling through my chest. Because these same Trials that were meant to find husbands for the Korai were used for another, greater purpose; to tie both a Korai’s power and her life to her husband’s will.

“Many said competing for her was not worth the risk to my life, you know,” the Emperor continued, blind to my unease. He sighed, eyes growing distant. “How wrong they were. The empire would not be what it is today without Ileana’s power. It took every drop of her magic to end the battle that won us this very continent.”

Reading the sickness in my face, the High Priestess’ hand moved to my arm, the silk of her white robe brushing against my skin. “Why don’t you check on Solara and Elysa? I’m afraid Solara is a bit too excited about the Trials. Make sure she is behaving herself, will you?”

Before I could argue, the Emperor spoke. “Solara? She’s a pretty little thing. How are her powers progressing?”

The High Priestess turned her attention away from me. “There’s little promise there, I’m afraid, but Elysa . . .”

I tuned them out, my stomach cold and leaden as they discussed my sisters as they would prime livestock. I glanced down the table to where they sat. Solara was in conversation with a noble. Everything about her was gilded, marking her as a daughter of the sun god, Helios. Her golden hair hung in ringlets, held back from her face by a jeweled band. Elysa was beside her. The daughter of the moon goddess, Selene, Elysa’s skin was pale, her hair so blonde it was nearly silver. Her eyes, a gray opalescence, moved across the crowd. Both sisters of my order wore the same mark that graced my brow, painted in gold upon Solara and me, in silver on Elysa: The Mark of the Korai.

Elysa noticed my attention, and her lips thinned. I reached within, to the bond that bridged our minds and allowed the three of us to share the powers born of our separate bloodlines. Your Trials are next. This is what you can look forward to in a few short months.

She ignored me. Turning away, she focused on the males who still feasted throughout the hall. Her gaze found one table—one male. I didn’t need to follow my sister’s eyes to know they had fixed upon Varian.

I sighed. Elysa’s Trials were still months away, but the one male in the entire empire she wanted was favored to win mine.

A bird-faced priestess cut away from the crowded tables below, appearing at the High Priestess’ shoulder.

“The competitors have all been accounted for, High Priestess. We’re ready to begin.”

She clapped hands together, bangles clanking. “Majesty,” she said with a girlish titter. “Would you do the honors?”

The Emperor gave a slight nod and straightened, as much as his aged shoulders could manage.

The hovering priestess turned to the crowd. Her voice sounded out in the harsh tone of Old Dorian. She spoke one word in the ancient language; an order for silence, and the hall fell into an expectant calm.

The Emperor rose, steady despite his aged and twisted joints.

“Sons of Doria,” his still-powerful voice rang over the crowd, “we have gathered to celebrate the beginning of a sacred tradition. Since the Ether first appeared a thousand years ago, tying our world to that of the Olympians, the three Dorian clans have stood united in our great empire, and our strength has been rewarded once each century with a gift: the Korai, daughters born from the three celestial gods who watch over us.”

The Emperor paused. Turning towards me, he offered his hand. I hesitated, my pulse a pounding drumbeat in my ears. The room was full of God-Blooded. And all their eyes were trained on me.

A deep breath in and I placed my hand in his cool palm. He pulled me to my feet.

“So,” he said, facing the hall, “you have come, God-Blooded sons of Doria, to compete for the right to make the Korai Aurora, Daughter of Eos, your life-mate and wife. Tomorrow, as Aurora’s mother brings the dawn, the First Trial shall begin. Feast tonight, my warriors, and may the gods grant you strength for the Trials to come.”

The room filled with the deafening roar of the crowd’s approval as, in his excitement, the Emperor gripped my hand with enough force to crush a human’s bones.

As the night dragged on, unease stole like a slow cancer through my gut.

What had begun as a contained excitement changed after the Emperor retired for the evening, as night’s darkness deepened and the males fell further into their cups.

More human slaves than I could count danced throughout the hall, at the behest of their God-Blooded masters. Some on top of tables, barely clothed, moved to the harsh beat of hand drums and brass castanets. Others rushed about the room, refilling tankards and bringing platter after platter of food.

A silky-haired slave from the Southern Isles passed close by, walking just beneath me to a table steps away, a heavy tray piled high in her arms. She leaned down to place her burden between two bearded warriors.

One’s lips parted in a crude grin, revealing an entire row of missing teeth. Then the other snaked a hand around the slave’s waist and pulled her onto his lap. Her tray toppled, the fruit she’d carried rolling to the floor. The human huffed a protest, but the toothless male grabbed her by the hair and forced his mouth onto her own, silencing her whimpered protests.

My nails dug into the arms of my chair. I stood, vision clouding with red, and a hand wrapped around my arm. Just before I could jerk away, his scent cut over the smells of ale and sweat that filled the chamber—sharp citrus and oiled steel.

Varian brought me to his side. “Hello, darling,” he breathed into my ear. My hair stood on end, the fire of my anger calming to a low, different sort of heat. “You look like you need rescuing.”

“I’m just . . . unaccustomed to feasts like this.”

He spun me around, pulling me closer. A calloused finger beneath my chin lifted my eyes to his, and he frowned down at me. “You haven’t enjoyed the evening. I’m sorry. I should have come sooner, but my father had me busy playing the part of prince.”

“Well,” I began, voice growing low and husky, “you’re here now.”

“I am. How does some fresh air sound?”

“Like a dream.”

His full lips spread into a grin. Without another word, he took my hand.

“Gods, I can’t wait until the feast is over,” I said over the cacophony around us as we made our way towards the terrace. Towards the towering seaside cliffs that waited beyond.

Varian laughed. “You’re in for a surprise when we get to Hyperion. This feast is tame by the capital’s standards.”

“You’re quite confident, aren’t you?” I teased. “Some might even call it arrogance.”

A low growl rumbled through his chest as his hand dropped my own to encircle my waist. “You’ll pay for that, Korai.”

“Oh? What will my punishment be?”

His eyes gleamed. “Torture. Slow, uninterrupted, wanton torture.”

My breath quickened. “Sounds... interesting.”

The terrace door was only feet away. Varian took another step, pulling me along with him, then froze.

The hall, chaotic before, suddenly fell into utter silence, as if every breath had been sucked from the room. Varian’s attention shifted over my shoulder, towards the double doors behind me. The blue of his gaze turned to ice.

Then I felt it: a tremor of power, dark and near. My magic spread a finger of warning down my spine as it awoke with a start. Heat flared to life inside me. It danced at my fingertips. “What is that?” I breathed.

Varian’s hand moved to the dagger belted at his hip. The other pulled me behind him. “Not a what,” he said, a rough growl tearing from his chest. “A who.”

Then the massive double doors flew open as if forced by a tempest, a dark wind buffeting about the room. The torches flickered and died as my hair blew around me.

A low, silky voice—the very melody of it woven from shadows—drawled from the darkness. “So sorry I’m late.”