I raised my hand linked with Dagan’s and we all sang a collective praise to Linaza for joining these two. The priestess poured the honied drink on Ilu’s tongue, then Simti’s, so their words to one another would be sweet for the rest of their days.

When Ilu bent to kiss Simti and she wound her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, the priestess declared them wed. As the crowd cheered for their union, Dagan looked at me with such heat in his eyes, what he’d been trying to say before the ceremony was suddenly as clear as the river on a hot summer day.

He’d been trying to ask me to marry him.

He wanted this moment on the dais for us.

TWO HOURS LATER, the wedding had exploded in celebration. The musicians pounded their drums and strummed their lyres with flashing hands. Nanaea was dragged to dance by nearly half the men of the city, and Iltani played game after game of twenty squares, taking everyone’s coins right out of their purses.

Sandals kicked off near the gambling tables, curly hair bouncing, Kasha danced with a group of boys. I spied a table with platters of fruits and eased myself down in front of it as I watched him play. Back in Alu, he’d been taken from us and had been forced to live in the Palace to replace the lugal’s son. But now he could just be a boy.

And though he could be carefree, I could not.

Swiping a handful of grapes, I popped them into my mouth and surveyed the rest of the crowd, my thoughts straying to Mirrum.

I’d left her for far too long.

I looked at the full moon shining overhead as I forced myself to swallow. A half an hour more. That was as long as I could possibly stay. A tug in the center of my chest connected me to her as though she were an anchor and I was the boat.

“There you are, Favored Dancing A-zu of the North.” Dagan ducked around the tent’s flaps. “May I have the honor of your presence?” He bowed graciously, arms wide like Linaza’s wings, and I smiled at his attempt at the Manzazu tradition.

“You may, Oh Great Farmer of the Fields.”

He laughed, and I placed a hand over my heart, grinning at our game. He made me happy, and had, for a long time.

Dagan settled in and grabbed some grapes from the platter, and we talked about the wedding. I grew more relaxed, less worried, the more we talked. I studied his broad shoulders as he leaned back on his elbows. Watched his mouth move as he popped the grapes in one by one and chewed. He caught me studying him, and the air around us shifted. I could smell the faintest touch of Aleppo soap on his skin. See the reflection of the torchlight shining in his eyes. Suddenly, what he’d been trying to say before the ceremony became a candle flickering between us, bright and hot.