The drizzle was finally starting to let up, and Parlin lowered the umbrella he’d bought to keep them both dry. “So, this is it,” he said, shaking off the umbrella. “The Court of Gods.”

Vivenna nodded.

“Good place to graze sheep.”

“I doubt that,” she said quietly.

Parlin frowned. “Goats, then?” he said finally.

Vivenna sighed, and they joined the small procession walking across the grass toward a large structure outside the circle of palaces. She’d been worried about standing out—after all, she still wore her simple Idrian dress, with its high neck, practical fabric, and muted colors. She was beginning to realize that there just wasn’t a way to stand out in T’Telir.

The people around her wore such a stunning variety of costumes that she wondered who had the imagination to design them all. Some were as modest as Vivenna’s and others even had muted colors—though these were usually accented by bright scarves or hats. Modesty in both design and color was obviously unfashionable, but not nonexistent.

It’s all about drawing attention, she realized. The whites and faded colors are a reaction against the bright colors. But because everyone tries so hard to look distinctive, nobody does!

Feeling a little more secure, she glanced at Parlin, who seemed more at peace now that they were away from the larger crowds in the city below. “Interesting buildings,” he said. “The people wear so much color, but that palace is just one color. Wonder why that is.”

“It’s not one color. It’s many different shades of the same color.”

Parlin shrugged. “Red is red.”

How could she explain? Each red was different, like notes on a musical scale. The walls were of pure red. The roof tiles, side columns, and other ornamentations were of slightly different shades, each distinct and intentional. The columns, for instance, formed stepping fifths of color, harmonizing with the base tint of the walls.

It was like a symphony of hues. The building had obviously been constructed for a person who had achieved the Third Heightening, as only such a person would be able to see the ideal resonance. To others . . . well, it was just a bunch of red.

They passed the red palace, approaching the arena. Entertainment was central to the lives of the Hallandren gods. After all, one couldn’t expect gods to do anything useful with their time. Often they were diverted in their palaces or on the courtyard lawn, but for particularly large events, there was the arena—which also served as the location of Hallandren legislative debates. Today, the priests would argue for the sport of their deities.

Vivenna and Parlin waited their turn as the people crowded around the arena entrance. Vivenna glanced toward another gateway, wondering why nobody used it. The answer was made manifest as a figure approached. He was surrounded by servants, some carrying a canopy. All were dressed in blue and silver, matching their leader, who stood a good head taller than the others. He gave off a BioChromatic aura such as Vivenna had never seen—though, admittedly, she’d been able to see them for only a few hours. His bubble of enhanced color was enormous; it extended nearly thirty feet. To her First Heightening senses, the god’s Breath registered as infinite. Immeasurable. For the first time, Vivenna could see that there was something different about the Returned. They weren’t just Awakeners with more power; it was like they had only a single Breath, but that Breath was so immensely powerful that it single-handedly propelled them to the upper Heightenings.

The god entered the arena through the open gateway. As she watched him, Vivenna’s sense of awe dissipated. There was an arrogance in this man’s posture, a dismissiveness to the way he entered freely while others waited their turn at an overcrowded entrance.

To keep him alive, Vivenna thought, he has to absorb a person’s Breath each week.

She’d let herself become too relaxed, and she felt her revulsion return. Color and beauty couldn’t cover up such enormous conceit, nor could it hide the sin of being a parasite living on the common people.

The god disappeared into the arena. Vivenna waited, thinking for a time about her own BioChroma and what it meant. She was completely shocked when a man beside her suddenly lifted off the ground.

The man rose into the air, lifted by his unusually long cloak. The cloth had stiffened, looking a little like a hand as it held the man up high so he could see over the crowd. How does it do that? She’d been told that Breath could give life to objects, but what did “life” mean? It seemed as if the fibers in the cloak were taut, like muscles, but how did it lift something so much heavier than it was?

The man descended to the ground. He muttered something Vivenna couldn’t hear, and his BioChromatic aura grew stronger as he recovered his Breath from the cloak. “We should be moving again soon,” the man said to his friends. “The crowd is thinning up ahead.”

Indeed, soon the crowd started to progress. It wasn’t long before Vivenna and Parlin entered the arena itself. They moved through the stone benches, choosing a place that wasn’t too crowded, and Vivenna looked urgently through the boxes set above. The building was ornate, but not really very big, and so it didn’t take her long to locate Siri.

When she did, her heart sank. My . . . sister, Vivenna thought with a chill. My poor sister.

Siri was dressed in a scandalous golden dress that didn’t even come down to her knees. It also had a plunging neckline. Siri’s hair, which even she should have been able to keep a dark brown, was instead the golden yellow of enjoyment, and there were deep red ribbons woven through it. She was being attended by dozens of servants.

“Look what they’ve done to her,” Vivenna said. “She must be frightened senseless, forced to wear something like that, forced to keep her hair a color that matches her clothing . . .” Forced to be slave to the God King.

Parlin’s square-jawed face grew hard. He didn’t often get angry, but Vivenna could see it in him now. She agreed. Siri was being exploited; they were carrying her around and displaying her like some kind of trophy. It seemed to Vivenna a statement. They were saying they could take a chaste, innocent Idris woman and do whatever they wished with her.

What I’m doing is right, Vivenna thought with growing determination. Coming to Hallandren was the best thing to do. Lemex might be dead, but I have to press onward. I have to find a way.

I have to save my sister.

“Vivenna?” Parlin said.

“Hum?” Vivenna asked, distracted.

“Why is everyone starting to bow?”

SIRI PLAYED idly with one of the tassels on her dress. The final god was seating himself in his box. That’s twenty-five, she thought. That should be all of them.

Suddenly, out in the audience, people began to rise, then kneel to the ground. Siri stood, searching anxiously. What was she missing? Had the God King arrived, or was this something else? Even the gods had gone down on their knees, though they didn’t prostrate themselves as the mortals did. They all seemed to be bowing toward Siri. Some sort of ritual greeting for their new queen?

Then she saw it. Her dress exploded with color, the stone at her feet gained luster, and her very skin became more vibrant. In front of her, a white serving bowl began to shine; then it seemed to stretch, the white color splitting into the colors of the rainbow.

A serving woman tugged on Siri’s sleeve from where she knelt below. “Vessel,” the woman whispered, “behind you!”