Eue-Lysae and her coven are gathered in their wing of the Abbey. Warm natural light pours through the large open windows at the far wall, and the hearth before the stairs crackles with life.

  The thirteen priestesses sit scattered between the leather couches and chairs of the common room and the black oak table of the dining hall, in groups of twos and threes; they chatter amongst themselves about the gossip within the College of the Third Moon—not a word is uttered about their studies or practices.

  Eue-Lysae lies sprawled on her back across one of the brown leather couches, her head resting on a soft down pillow; she reads.

  A sharp knock comes from the door.

  A sharp knock comes at the door. Eue-Lysae stands with a groan, places the book face-down on the cushion, and walks to the door. As she opens it, the chatter of the priestesses spills into the hallway; she steps out and pulls the door shut behind her, closing off the noise. She looks down to find ?nnywella flanked by Osmund and Gyores Dornytter.

  “Afternoon, Gekaryna vela’Herst. What brings you to my door?” Eue-Lysae asks.

  "A simple request, High Priestess: I wish to hold a wedding on the college grounds—a rather large one, with you officiating." ?nnywella's cigarette hangs from her lips, her hands clasped behind her back, as she looks up at Gyrshke.

  "No," Eue-Lysae states firmly, "I will not officiate weddings outside your family; the last thing I would wish to do with my time here is bind a woman—in any way—to a flippant man." She watches the two Dornytter brothers react to her statement; Gyores purses his lips, seemingly taken aback by her comment, and Osmund looks as if he is unsure if he agrees or not.

  "It is Dyder Dornytter and Ilsenyla Heren." ?nnywella raises her eyebrows; she knows there is one way to make Gyrshke set aside her convictions—Dyder: as far as ?nnywella knows, he is the only man Gyrshke does not hold in visible contempt.

  Eue-Lysae's lips purse and her brow furrows: Dyder is the antithesis of the man she despises; he is the type of man who has overcome himself and become a being more valuable than simply just a body of labor or a body of military force; declining this would make her a hypocrite to the Queen, yet accepting would leave her unmoored from her past. "Fine... When?"

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  "The seventeenth of the next Maiden," ?nnywella replies.

  “Why so rushed?” Eue-Lysae’s head spins with ideas, but she cannot quite draw the thread between them; she knows this has something to do with the discussion surrounding Drewer Koeh-Styer from the other day.

  “I would like to strengthen the bond between my court and Sk?dstan as soon as possible.”

  Eue-Lysae nods; Gekaryna's response makes sense, but she has a twisting in her stomach telling her that the queen is being sophistic. "I will have everything arranged for the seventeenth. I request that my coven be able to assist me in the ceremony—hands-on experience, as you can see." Eue-Lysae opens the door behind her; the priestesses inside are too preoccupied to notice. "Our activities are quite limited."

  "I’m surprised that you would wish to train them to plan and officiate weddings."

  “I might disagree with marriage amongst common men, but one of them will replace me and will probably be more lenient than I—I cannot speak as I do about men refusing to do their duties to the future and not do mine.” She takes the brass doorknob and closes the door. Leaning against the wooden door frame, she places a hand across her chest, resting it on her shoulder; she glares at Gyores, who quickly looks away. “Please take after the eldest, Osmund.” Her tone is sharp, turning the simple request of decency into a threat.

  Confused, Osmund looks to Gyores, who is craning his neck away from the group; he cannot tell if his brother is embarrassed for his actions or just getting caught. Looking back at High Priestess Seliani and nods.

  “In some ways, I can see why you were chosen.” ?nnywella says.

  “Yes, I know; she’s told me,” Eue-Lysae responds. In many of her conversations with Luhnylla, the goddess has made sure to praise the similarities between Eue-Lysae's personal philosophy and the actions of Luhnylla's former husband. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to my girls.” She takes the handle of the door before turning back around. “Please be sure to bring Dyder next time. I enjoy the presence of a dignified man—” Her tone changes to a hiss as she looks at Gyores. “Who can appreciate what clothing adds and not what it takes away.” She leaves, clicking the door shut quietly behind her.

  ?nnywella turns to Gyores. “You disgust me.”

  "Most women—"

  "Gyrshke is not 'most women'; barmaids only put up with your leers because you tip and are part of my guard—Gyrshke can write one letter requesting to have you executed, and I cannot—and possibly will not—do anything about it. You are making me regret granting your brother's request for time off. Next time I catch you leering, I will have you on overnight gate duties for the rest of your life or until I have you discharged."

  Gyores knows better than to argue with Gekaryna; while she has mellowed out over the past five years, her temper remains.

  ?nnywella and the two brothers leave, heading back to the castle.

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