Chapter 20

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For the first time in her several weeks at the palace, Siri stood before the God King’s door and felt neither worried nor tired.

Bluefingers, oddly, wasn’t scribbling on his pad. He watched her silently, expression unreadable.

Siri almost smiled to herself. Gone were the days when she’d had to lie on the floor, awkwardly trying to kneel while her back complained. Gone were the days when she had to fall asleep on the marble, her discarded dress her only comfort. Ever since she’d grown daring enough to climb into the bed the previous week, she’d slept well each night, comfortable and warm. And not once had she been touched by the God King.

It was a nice arrangement. The priests—apparently satisfied that she was doing her wifely duty—left her alone. She didn’t have to be naked in front of anyone, and she was beginning to learn the social dynamic of the palace. She’d even gone to a few more sessions of the Court Assembly, though she hadn’t mingled with the Returned.

“Vessel,” Bluefingers said quietly.

She turned toward him, raising an eyebrow.

He shuffled uncomfortably. “You . . . have found a way to make the king respond to your advances, then?”

“That got out, did it?” she asked, looking back at the door. Inside, her smile deepened.

“Indeed it did, Vessel,” Bluefingers said, tapping his ledger from beneath. “Only those in the palace know about any of this, of course.”

Good, Siri thought. She glanced to the side.

Bluefingers did not look pleased.

“What?” she asked. “I’m out of danger. The priests can stop worrying about an heir.” For a few months, at least. They’ll get suspicious eventually.

“Vessel,” Bluefingers said with a harsh whisper. “Doing your duty as the Vessel was the danger!”

She frowned, looking at Bluefingers as the little scribe tapped his board. “Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods . . .” he whispered to himself.

“What?” she asked.

“I shouldn’t say.”

“Then what is the point of bringing it up in the first place! Honestly, Bluefingers, you’re getting frustrating. Leave me too confused, and I might just start asking questions—”

“No!” Bluefingers said sharply, then immediately glanced behind him, cringing slightly. “Vessel, you must not speak to others of my fears. They’re silly, really, nothing to bother anyone else with. Just . . .”

“What?” she asked.

“You must not bear him a child,” Bluefingers said. “That is the danger, both to yourself and to the God King himself. This all . . . everything here in the palace . . . it is not what it appears to be.”

“That’s what everyone says,” she snapped. “If it’s not what it seems, then tell me what it is.

“There is no need,” Bluefingers said. “And I will not speak of this again. After tonight, you will conduct yourself to the bedchamber—you obviously have the pattern down well enough. Just wait a hundred heartbeats or so after the women let you out of the dressing room.”

“You have to tell me something!” Siri said.

“Vessel,” Bluefingers said, leaning in. “I advise you to please keep your voice down. You don’t know how many factions shift and move inside the palace. I am a member of many of them, and a stray word on your part could . . . no, would . . . mean my death. Do you understand that? Can you understand that?”

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