Ahsan surveyed himself before the polished obsidian mirror. The green robe he’d been made to wear had small disks of painted bronze sewn into the shoulders and at the hem, tinkling every time he moved and giving him the appearance of having scales. It was almost as bad as the fake beard currently scratching his upper lip and cheeks.
“I look like a colorful fish.”
“Even the prettiest of fish wish that were true,” Belshun said, leaning against the doorframe.
Sunrise brought the day of the eclipse, and it was only bad jokes and good food that kept Ahsan’s mind half-distracted. His eyes flicked to Nirah. She was a vision, as usual, wrapped in pale green and gold, hammered metal leaves woven through her hair, but she had no reaction to his words. Instead, she just stared ahead with her gaze
