‘Sixteen! I was told it would be fifteen years at most.’

‘Lord Taraka said there were complications with your vessel that had to be smoothed out.’

‘Ah.’ I wonder if that was the fault of my meddling or something else. ‘Is Varg here?’

‘Yes, my lady. He is camped with the courtyard traders to keep out of Lord Taraka’s sight. I know he is eager to speak with you.’

‘I’m sure he is. But he will have to wait. Is there anything else I should know before I meet with the other lords?’

Ami frowned as she considered the question. Clearly there were a lot of things and Ami was struggling to filter them. She’s still too easy to read, thought Pari, adding it to her list of things to attend to.

‘Never mind, Ami. If it isn’t on fire then I will deal with it after the High Lord. Have the others arrived yet?’

‘They are all waiting for you.’

Pari pursed her lips. She was tired from the rebirth but the High Lord was forcing her to attend before she had fully recovered. It was a low tactic. ‘Was this gathering overseen by Lord Taraka, by any chance?’

‘Yes, my lady. How did you guess?’

‘Bitter experience.’

Ami wisely made no comment, instead summoning servants to collect the back of Pari’s gown. It was time to face her peers.

The gentle flow of conversation ended as Pari entered the room. Ordinarily, she would have greeted the other Deathless Lords as they arrived, and granted them permission to enter. Ordinarily, it would be she, the Lady Pari, sitting in the chair opposite the door rather than her High Lord. However, on the day of a rebirthing ceremony, the usual laws were put aside.

She tried not to be hurt that of the six other Deathless that made House Tanzanite only three had bothered to attend her.

‘Lady Pari, welcome back to the realm of life.’ High Lord Priyamvada had stood, and the other two immortals followed a beat after. As was her preference, the High Lord had taken a tall body with an ample frame, the bright gold-violet of her gown a broad block of colour. It made Pari feel as if she was looking at a fortress rather than a person. Priyamvada’s high hat became a turret, and her full-lipped mouth a spout for dropping acid on any foolish enough to get too close.

Armoured in paint, that face gave nothing away. A golden tattoo sat like a star on her forehead, commemorating an old death wound gained long before the rest of the house had their first birth.

‘Thank you for holding my walls and my lands while I was gone,’ Pari replied. ‘Thank you for watching my people and keeping the Wild from their doors.’

Priyamvada gave a slight nod, and sat, allowing everyone else to do the same.