The next morning dawns with disconcerting speed.
The day of the Revelry has begun.
My blood-mother arrives not long after the sun first shows its face over the edge of the mountains. She nudges me gently awake.
"Mamun?" I rub my eyes, blinking up at her. "What-"
"Here you are, avya," she says, handing me a steaming cup of khavfe as I sit up.
I breathe deep, eyes closing again as I inhale the khavfe's richly-scented steam. "Thank you. But why are you here? You must have so much to-"
"I'm here to help you prepare, of course." A few paces away, a stronghold Hand stands in patient silence, arms full of clothes. "I've missed enough of your life as it is, and you think I'm going to keep my distance on the most important day of it?" She huffs. "I think not."
I side-eye the Hand. "You two aren't going to try to help me bathe, are you?"
Jezben laughs. "Of course not. In fact, why don't you go get started on that. Your aunt will keep me company in the meantime."
"My-"
There's a knock at the door, and Pash calls through it that Rhavani Ula's arrived. I sigh and retreat to the bathroom while the two of them and the Hand begin arranging clothes and jewelry on my bed-already immersed together in low, conspiratorial chatter.
When I emerge from the washroom clean, robed and smelling of lavender and cedar oil, my mother thrusts a pile of clothes into my arms, while my aunt takes me by the shoulder and spins around to face back the way I'd come.
"There you are," says my blood-mother.
"Get changed quickly. We have a lot of work to do," adds Aunt Ula.
A little dizzy, I hang the clothes up at the back of the door, picking through the layers. They're my first clue as to what to expect of the day ahead-the mystery of which has been another layer of anxiety that is the bedrock of my life lately.
No one who hasn't been to a Revelry knows exactly what goes on in one-it's forbidden to speak of. What I do know is that they're necessary to form the bond between Heir and Artifact that will create the six new Rhaj of the Mirelands. The highest of all powers on this continent, the bindings that hold all the nations together, the hands which guide from without.
Those who aren't bonded to Artifacts during the Revelry are judged by their actions and interactions therein, and arranged into the khejia-groups of Rhavani that will lead each of the six nations from within, under the authority of their respective Rhaji.
What lies ahead of me today is at once test, ritual, and wedding.
I don't know what I'd been expecting, exactly. A dress, or something like one. But these are clothes made to move in.
I start with the pants-made of a dark, subtly shimmering gray material. Unlike the flowing, almost skirt-like ones I wore back home in Vishka, they're tapered, close to the leg. Over those go knee-high boots, a soft black top with long sleeves and holes for my thumbs. I take the last piece-a corset-laced surcoat-out of the washroom with me so my aunt and mother can strap me into it.
The chaos in my mind goes quiet as I take in the details of the coat-it's a masterpiece, a work of art.
"Do you like it?" My mother asks, tentative.
She's been working on it for years, hinting but never showing it to me. Started as "something special to wear when you join in Khejia," it's time has come much sooner than expected. I can't begin to guess how many hours she and the stronghold couturiers must have put into it. Falling to the tops of my thighs in the front and to the backs of my calves in the back, almost every bit of it is covered in intricate, shimmering embroidery and tiny gem-chip beads.
It's home.
The moss-covered trunks of ancients, the stony islands surrounded by eddies of shimmering water. Mist weaving through fir needles and branches. Fenfoxes and silver roe, kingfishers and herons. All in shades of gray and green, silver and muted teal.
"I love it," I breathe.
~*~
Once I'm dressed, coiffed and fed, my mother, Aunt Ula and a squadron of guards-including both Pash and Thrall-lead me from my room. At their instruction, Puka stays behind-happy to remain in bed. The halls crackle with nervous energy, crowded and loud with other Heirs and their respective entourages. I can feel eyes on me as we make our way to the lift, but I avoid returning anyone's gaze-heat already rushing to my cheeks.
I have absolutely no idea where we're going.
When we step off the lift, we're deep within the "prow" of Grailhold, far from any source of sunlight. Following another group of Heirs and their people with still more trailing behind, we take an almost immediate turn into a hall that leads away from the stronghold proper and directly into the mountain itself.
The hall narrows and slopes downward, growing damper and more chill the further down we go. There's an outburst of chatter ahead of us where the corridor comes to an end, and we slow to a halt. When those before us have moved on at last, my guards step to the side-allowing me to look out over the huge cavern below and the tangle of stone walls and strange tiered pagodas that fill its shadowy expanse.
An actual labyrinth.
