As the servants towelled her dry, Pari considered her body anew. She had asked to be given her granddaughter, Rashana, as a vessel. A perfect match both physically and in temperament, Rashana would have led to an easy rebirth. However, as punishment for going to the Sapphire lands in secret and without permission, she had been given Priti instead, her great granddaughter. Shorter, sweeter, obedient to a fault. The type of girl that would not know an original thought if it struck her in the face.

If the vessel’s body was like a jug, then Pari’s soul was the water. And if the jug did not have room for certain of Pari’s qualities, then they would spill over the edge and be lost.

However, unlike a jug, a vessel could be reshaped, and Pari had seen to it that one of her people visited Priti in secret to complete her education. In the years while she was between lives, he had been working quietly to encourage rebellious thoughts. His name was Varg, and unlike most of the servants, he was not known to the High Lord or any of the main staff. At least, he should not be. She’d had him go in disguise under a false name just to be safe.

Given the ease of her rebirth, she could only assume that Varg had done well. The calluses on her hands suggested her great granddaughter had enjoyed some clandestine climbing, as well as knife work, and she could only guess at the other terrible things he had taught her.

It’s a start, she thought. Though my arms look like they could use some more work.

She would have liked to be a few inches taller too. Such things shouldn’t matter, but they did. She made a mental note to have the platforms on her shoes adjusted accordingly.

Silk was wrapped around her, tight on the arms and legs. Over this was draped a violet gown with loose sleeves and high shoulders that curled to points. A layer of gem-studded jewellery was added to that, and her face was painted; gold around the eyes and mouth, subtler tones elsewhere, smoothing the lines on her face and the youth of her skin, obscuring the age of the body to let the Deathless soul shine through.

A woman sang for permission to enter and Pari gave it. She was dressed in the uniform of a majordomo, tanzanite studs flashing at her throat. Her arrival automatically dismissed the other servants, who hurried away as she bowed deeply. ‘Welcome back, my lady.’

Pari looked at her full face blankly. ‘And you are?’

The woman laughed in delight, sounding briefly like a common child from the settlements below. Pari looked closer, noting that the woman’s skin was made up, that beneath it she was pale for a sky-born. She had clearly spent many years in the castle but had not started life there.