The festival opened at dusk with a procession and every visiting dignitary was expected to walk it. That was the rule, passed to Phaeryl that morning by a pale-faced steward who'd delivered the schedule like he was apologizing for it: two columns, paired by rank, down the main avenue from the east gate to the festival square, where the Erast Alpha would light the ceremonial fire and the first night's celebrations would begin.
Paired by rank, she muttered as she read that part twice.
She was not ranked. She had no title, no formal position, no bond mark that would give her a claim on the man she'd been traveling with for months. Whatever she and Xhanes were to each other existed entirely in the space between them and nowhere on record.
She folded the schedule and set it on the table befo
