AKSHARA AWOKE THE NEXT morning with the worst headache of her life. The small room around her was blurry, but she saw Erevia sitting naked on another sleeping mat, watching her.
“Good. You’re awake,” Erevia said. “I’m just waiting for the innkeeper to bring me a fresh robe—something in blue to match yours. She said she had one, because she used to be a novice priestess.”
Akshara sat up very slow.
“What’s wrong with me?” she asked.
“You had too much wine, child.”
“I thought we talked about that before. I’m not a child anymore.”
“And I told you that you are to me. I’m eight times your age! So, child it is to me.”
Akshara gasped. “Eight times my age? You wouldn’t be—”
“Alive and looking so young? It’s one of the benefits of being born special. You’ll see it yourself someday. You’re ne
