A moment later, I felt Vikter’s hand on my back, and I knew he was prepared to grab me in case I went to them. It took everything in me to stand there and do nothing.

Tearing my gaze away from Mr. Tulis, I forced out deep, even breaths. My wide eyes roamed the crowd as I pictured a wall in my mind, one as great as the Rise, so tall and thick that no one’s pain could breach it. That had always worked in the past, and it worked now. The claws of sorrow loosened their grip, but—

My gaze snagged on a blond man. He stood several rows back, his chin bowed, and much of his face obscured by the curtain of hair that fell forward. I felt…something burning through the wall I’d built, but it didn’t quite feel like anguish. It felt hot, like physical pain, but this was…it was bitter-tasting in the back of my throat as if I’d swallowed acid. He had to be in pain, but…

Unnerved, I closed my eyes and rebuilt the wall until all I felt was the pounding of my heart. After a few seconds, I was able to take a deeper, stronger breath, and finally, the strange sensation disappeared. I opened my eyes as the father pleaded.

“Please. We love our son,” he cried. “We want to raise him to be a good man, to—”

“He will be raised in the Temples of Rhahar and Ione, where he will be cared for while in service to the gods as it has been done since the first Blessing.” The Duke’s voice brooked no argument, and the woman’s sobs deepened. “Through us, the gods protect each and every one of you from the horrors outside the Rise. From what comes in the mist. And all we must do is provide them with service. Are you willing to anger the gods to keep a child at home, to grow old or possibly sicken and die?”

Mr. Tulis shook his head, his face draining of all color. “No, Your Grace, we would not want to risk that, but he’s our son—

“That is what you ask, though.” The Duke cut him off. “In one month from his birth, you will give him to the High Priests, and you will be honored to do so.”

Unable to look at the tear-stricken faces any longer, I closed my eyes once more and wished I could somehow drown out the sounds of their heartbreak. However, even if I could, I wouldn’t forget them. And, truthfully, I needed to hear their pain. I needed to bear witness to it and remember. Serving the gods in the Temples was an honor, but this was still a loss.

“Cease the tears,” the Duchess implored. “You know that this is right and what the gods have requested.”

But this didn’t feel right. What harm would come in asking for one child to remain at home with his parents? To grow, to live, and to become a useful member of society? Neither the Duke nor the Duchess would bend to grant such a simple favor. How could anyone mortal be unmoved by the mother’s pleas, her cries, and her husband’s desolate hopelessness?

But I already knew the answer to that.

The Ascended were no longer mortal.

Chapter 10

I smothered a yawn as Tawny helped secure my veil in place, feeling like I hadn’t gotten a moment of rest.

My mind wouldn’t shut down last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about Malessa and Rylan, the threat of the Dark One, and what had happened with the Tulis family. The utter hopelessness that had drenched the mother’s face as her husband had led her from the chamber haunted me, as did the audience parting and giving them a wide berth. It was as if their request had left the Tulises with an infectious taint. As they left, cradling their infant, their heartbreak had projected, becoming a tangible, lingering entity.

But that wasn’t the only part of this that preyed upon my mind.

The look that had settled over Hawke’s face as he watched the broken couple also kept resurfacing. Anger had hardened his jaw and pressed his lips into a firm, unyielding line. And he wasn’t the only one in attendance who’d borne what could easily be construed as the mark of resentment. I thought of the blond man I’d seen and what I’d felt from him. It had to be some form of pain, as that was the only thing I could feel from others. But it had reminded me of the anger that had settled into Hawke’s features and in others.

Men and women of different classes who didn’t look upon the Tulises with distaste, but had instead stared at the dais, unable to hide their displeasure and bitterness. Had some of them handed over third sons and daughters to the Priests, or would they soon be watching their second sons and daughters go to Court after their Rite.

Had the Duke and Duchess noticed those stares? I doubted they did, but I was sure the Royal Guards had.

As Vikter had said, this was a time of unrest, and it was spreading. I didn’t think all could be blamed on the Descenters. Some of the fault could be laid at the feet of the natural order of things—to the Rite, which was beginning to feel unnatural when extenuating circumstances such as the Tulises’ plight were ignored.

Could it be changed? The way things were done? That was another thing that had kept me awake. Surely, the gods had enough sons and daughters to serve them. They had the entire kingdom, and maybe it could become a case-by-case basis when it came to those who served the gods at the time of their Rite. Many parents were honored to have their children do so, and for some, a lifetime in servitude to the gods was a far better life than the one they would’ve had if they remained at home. Could I change the order of things once I returned to the capital, before I Ascended? Did I have that kind of power? Surely I had more than the Ladies and Lords in Wait, as I was the Maiden. I could speak to the Queen on behalf of the Tulises, and if I ended up returning from the gods as one of the Ascended, I could continue petitioning for change.

I could at least try, which was more than the Duke and Duchess were willing to do. That was what I’d decided before I’d finally drifted off to sleep, only to wake a few hours later to meet with Vikter.

“You sound like you need a nap,” Tawny commented as she secured the final chain of the veil.

“If only I could do just that.” I sighed.

“I have no idea how you can’t nap during the day.” She stepped to my side, tucking the ends of the veil so the length fell down the center of my back. “Give me any comfy chair and—”

“You’ll be out cold in minutes. It makes me so jealous.” I slipped my feet into white slippers with all-too-thin soles. “Once the sun comes up, I can’t sleep.”

“That’s because you can’t stand to be idle,” she responded. “And sleeping requires a certain amount of idleness, which is something I excel at.”