The Temple of Stars had never held so many people.
Not for the Rite. This was different — the doors thrown open at dusk, the sacred courtyard strung with lanterns again, but this time for celebration instead of judgment. The Investiture Feast. Tradition demanded it happen the same night as the verdict, before anyone had time to reconsider what they'd witnessed.
I stood at the top of the temple steps in robes someone had changed me into without my quite noticing, watching the crowd below shift from spectators into guests. Nobles who'd spent the afternoon debating my legitimacy were now accepting wine from Temple attendants as if nothing had happened at all.
"You look like you're about to be sick," Darius said, appearing at my shoulder.
"I look regal and composed."
