On the day of the equinox, we spend the morning getting ready. When we’re done, Mehtap pirouettes in front of her polished bronze mirror and smiles in delight. I’ve braided a fat strand of her dark blond hair into a crown on the top of her head, while the rest hangs loose. A single green jewel adorns her forehead, matching the green embroidery of her white silk gown.

“I’ve done well, don’t you think?” I tell her.

She beams at me and then pushes me toward the mirror. “Your turn.”

I’m nervous as I approach the mirror, but the woman that stares back still looks like me, just grander and more refined. My dark blue gown is similar in style to Mehtap’s—loose fitting with gathers at one hip and the opposite shoulder. Rather than a jewel though, Mehtap has woven ribbons through my hair and pinned up the braids. My eyes linger on the skin of my face and my arms, on my ever-present rosemarks. They make me look older than I am, wiser to the world. It’s hard to remember what I looked like without them.

We meet our umbertouched soldier escorts at the door of the villa. There’s laughter and chatter in the streets as we make our way toward the gates. People have put up bright-colored cloths in their windows, and mill around outside, talking with their neighbors. At one corner, an acrobat does flips and somersaults to the applause of an appreciative crowd. I pull at Mehtap’s sleeve to point him out, and she smiles. “Just wait until we get to the palace.”

Even the soldiers guarding the compound stand up straighter today as they wave us through. Outside, there is a palanquin waiting, lavishly decorated with red-and-gold cloth. Our escorts bow and motion us inside, and the litter jerks as they lift us onto their shoulders. The soldiers bear us at a leisurely pace. The roof of the palanquin shades us from the afternoon sun, and Mehtap pulls open one of the curtains to let in a breeze. It’s the perfect spring day, crisp and not too warm.

“We must make the most of this night,” she says, gazing out over the horizon. “Who knows if we’ll ever have an opportunity like this again.”

As the walls of Sehmar City loom near, one of the soldiers bearing our litter calls out to us. “Now is the time to lower the curtain, Lady Mehtap.” She doesn’t seem surprised, and quickly undoes the ribbon securing the drapes. We’re suddenly illuminated in reddish light. It makes sense, as we enter the city, that we would be kept from view. Still, I feel a bit of regret that I won’t be able to see it.

“I think we can peek out,” Mehtap says. “As long as they don’t see us.”