Odessa returned to the castle’s east-wing gallery dripping wet after leaping from her private cliff, a ritual she had adopted since age sixteen to feel brave and free. Passing a violent gallery of murals depicting the crux migrations and recalling scholars’ warnings that another migration could come next spring, she tried to slip away unseen.

She nearly collided with her father’s Voster emissary in the corridor. The priest’s presence and power overwhelmed Odessa; he silently manipulated the water from her hair into a spinning, spiked crown above her head, a wordless display that terrified her. Odessa fled up the stairs, feeling watched and nauseated by the proximity to magic.

On the fourth floor, Margot intercepted Odessa, scolding her for being wet, late, and disheveled. In Odessa’s rooms, Margot undressed her, put her in a new gray gown, and aggressively combed and re-braided her hair, then dusted it with dye powder to conceal its natural red tones. Odessa chafed at the constant comparisons to Mae and at Margot’s disapproval of her interests.

While preparing her, Margot said the Turans had already arrived with six dead marroweels, suggesting they were capable of clearing the Krisenth Crossing. Odessa reviewed the escalating crisis: marroweels had begun attacking Quentis’s grain ships, threatening trade, treaties, and preparations for the impending crux migration. She wondered how the Turans had accomplished the kills and whether the threats at sea were worsening.

Odessa mentioned seeing General Banner and learning the Guardian had come with the Turans, evoking the ominous myths surrounding the Guardian. Margot warned Odessa to keep guards close and ordered her to finish her hair and not be late for the throne room meeting, then left.

Alone, Odessa reflected on her half brother Arthalayus’s carefree childhood before future obligations, contrasted with the burdens she and Mae already carried. She managed a passable braid, set her heavy amber-inlaid crown on her head—the only non-gray item she wore—and, recognizing the hour, hurried out despite being late.