(Almera POV)
The oasis woke before the sun.
I realized it not by sound, but by movement—the subtle shift of water beneath the stone floors, the murmur of voices rising too early, too expectant. The channels that ran through the guest quarter courtyard carried water in steady rhythm, but today even that constancy felt strained, as if the city itself were holding its breath.
I stood by the open lattice window, watching attendants cross the courtyard with hurried steps. White and blue robes fluttered, priestly hems brushing the stone. No laughter. No idle greetings.
They were waiting.
Romulus had not appeared.
In Aqaris, that absence spoke louder than refusal.
Jessie helped me dress in layers appropriate for public presence—light linen beneath a flowing outer robe dyed the pale green reserved for imperial consorts. Even as she adjusted the clasps, I felt the weight of the city's gaze settling on me, invisible but insistent.
