‘Isobel, daughter of Philippos, son of Paolos, I invoke the goddess Aeris’s blessings upon you,’ High Priestess Marina intoned. ‘I invoke the goddess’s blessings for health and vitality, for the strong children you will bear, for the wisdom you will share with your husband.’

The high priestess, tall and commanding in her ceremonial robe of pale blue trimmed with gold, turned and nodded at Isobel’s father.

‘Lord Philippos. Approach your daughter.’

Lord Philippos took a deep breath and stepped forward to play his part. His penetrating eyes were uncharacteristically wide and uncertain.

‘Philippos, son of Paolos, the goddess wishes to know that you give your daughter freely to King Dion of Xanthos.’

Philippos nodded. ‘I do.’

Sophia reached for a towel and dried Isobel’s hair.

‘The goddess acknowledges the bond between father and daughter. Isobel, your mother in heaven gives her blessing.’

Sophia was close enough to Isobel to hear her breath catch at the mention of her mother.

‘Philippos,’ the high priestess instructed. ‘Take this incense. Circle your daughter three times and repeat after me.’

As Philippos reached for the clay pot holding the stick of smoking incense, Sophia heard low male voices, echoing throughout the cavernous temple.

She frowned. Whoever it was, they should know better than to disturb a holy ritual in the temple’s inner sanctum. Why hadn’t the men of the city guard turned them away? Perhaps something urgent required Philippos’s attention? But what could be so important?

The gruff murmurs became louder. Boot heels rang out on the stone. Sophia was puzzled, and then worried; whoever these men were, their speech was accented and unfamiliar.

Leaving the high priestess holding the incense, Philippos turned and peered through the latticed screen. The high priestess cleared her throat, lifting the incense pointedly for Isobel’s father to take.

The shuffles and footsteps broke the stillness of the night, despite the fact that the men approaching were obviously trying to stay quiet. Someone coughed. Metal clanged against metal. Isobel climbed to her feet, and the high priestess turned also. Sophia exchanged frightened glances with Isobel.

Sophia began to discern silhouettes. Initially they were dark shadows, but then they became clearer. Pale-faced men in black cloaks were creeping steadily forward, surrounding the inner sanctum.

‘Father?’ Isobel said in a tight voice.

Sophia glanced at High Priestess Marina, but even she looked afraid. The strangers were encircling the area, blocking off every exit. Terror stabbed into Sophia’s chest when she saw that the cloaked men were holding drawn swords.

‘Who goes there?’ Lord Philippos called out.

Panic struck Sophia like a nail through the heart. Where were the guards?

A short, solitary figure walked up to the screen. His back was bent and his shoulders were oddly high. Bushy, black hair crowned his scalp, and his eyes were dark and fierce. Glaring at the people on the other side, he lifted his leg and smashed his boot against the lattice.