Slumping to the floor by her door, Thalia buried her head in her arms. The phantom of Sinbad's embrace lingered on her skin, warm and familiar— a seductive ghost threatening to pull her back to him. She'd already been fraying at the edges ever since she'd first seen him on the ship. Now, she might unravel completely, undone by those patient fingers. Their touch filled her with warmth and security. They made her want to confide every trouble, to let him handle everything. He was probably still out there patiently waiting for her as he always had. She could run to him now if she decided to. There was a life waiting for her outside this cabin. It was the dream she couldn't have. The goddess had been clear about the consequences of pursuing Sinbad. He would destroy her country, destroy her. Only one man had the power and resources to fix her life and that of her people: Muu Alexius, her fiance.

Slowly, she picked herself up off the floor and shuffled to her bed, collapsing onto it. In the light of the lamp, her golden engagement ring glittered on her hand. She inspected it, attempting to ground herself with the reminder of its presence.

Muu was a good man. He would treat her well. Yet, a thousand rationalizations as to why she should return to the deck raced through her mind: Muu didn't love her either, so she could never hurt him; he would likely pursue a lover of his own if given the chance; if she gave up on Sinbad, she would end up as broken and bitter as her mother. All of these, she pushed aside. No matter how much she longed to, she could not betray Muu. There were no excuses. All room for mistakes was gone. Her selfishness had cost her people enough.

Why, then, had she donned her most alluring dress that night in hopes that the man she couldn't have would come find her? Why had she sought any excuse to be close to him? Why was it that every protest she'd mounted had been nothing but lip-service?

Trembling, she let her hand fall to her chest. Her eyes squeezed shut as she remembered the feel of his lips against her neck. Intoxicating heat pooled in her fluttering stomach, spilling into her limbs. It left her weak-willed and fuzzy-headed. This was her answer, the high she sought that she would never get from Muu Alexius. Only Sinbad made her feel this way.

She could not give in again.

"Hmm? Sinbad inspected Thalia closely, taking pleasure at the flush that crept up her neck as he hovered over her, invading her personal space. "Not talking today, are we?"

She was seated at the same table as usual, her hair perfectly coiffed to match her lavish clothing. Today, the sun shone brightly, birds chattered overhead, and a cool breeze played with his hair. Their journey was coming to an end, and Sinbad was wasting no time with Thalia. Especially not the precious rare moments like these, where Ja'far and Sappho were off discussing plans. He had Thalia to himself— though, at least when Sappho was around, she talked.

Thalia's eyes flicked in his direction, her lips pulling into a fond smile. Sinbad responded with a bright grin of his own. He wasn't sure how she intended to make their friendship work without being able to talk to him, but he had a few tricks up his sleeve either way.

"I suppose I won't get a second chance to have you as a dance teacher either."

She shook her head.

Sinbad sighed. That's what he had thought. He'd jumped on the chance to attempt to seduce Thalia too soon last night. She was right about the Parthevian nobility looking down on him if he couldn't dance. He'd wasted an opportunity on a failed attempt to win her back. All he could do now was try to learn without her instruction.

Planting his hands chastely on an imaginary partner, he looked to Thalia. "The hands go like this, right?"

She gave a slow nod, resting her chin in her hand as her eyes glittered with amusement.

"Go ahead. Put on a show," she seemed to say.

Sinbad straightened his spine, rolling his shoulders back confidently. She liked shows, and he was good at giving them. "And now what? I spin around in circles?"

She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. She probably was hoping he would fall flat on his ass so that she could laugh at his failure. He wasn't entirely opposed to the idea. Making her laugh was one of his favorite pastimes.

He began to prance around in wide circles, dragging his imaginary partner with him. Spinning and twirling, he mimicked what he assumed dancers did until he tripped on his own feet and caught his balance. Then, quiet giggling met his ears. Thalia was entertained. He shot her a grin with a cockiness he was well aware he hadn't earned and swept his imaginary partner into a low bend. He pretended to pucker his lips, waggling his eyebrows. In the corner of his vision, he caught Thalia shaking her head disapprovingly, her body trembling with restrained laughter.

"What sort of barbarian mating ritual…?"

Sappho's stunned voice broke through the moment, and Sinbad straightened again. Her dark eyebrows knitted together when he shot her a wink, attempting to cover up the fact that he was at least a little embarrassed at being caught humiliating himself for Thalia.

Ja'far stood by her side, his eyebrow twitching irritably. He didn't look surprised to find Sinbad like this. Admittedly, on the list of compromising situations Ja'far had found Sinbad in, this ranked fairly low.

He shrugged. "Thalia won't teach me how to dance, so I have to figure it out myself."

"This is dancing?" Sappho crossed her arms over her chest, her lips twitching at the ends.

"He doesn't need a teacher. Don't you agree, Sappho?" Thalia was still tittering. "I've never seen such a natural."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea to encourage him." Sappho grinned, sitting next to Thalia. "This is the future king you spoke of, correct? A ruler should give an air of austerity, not whatever this display was just now."

"Oh, I'm very austere," Sinbad assured her, striking the position Thalia had taught him. This time, he kept his lips pulled into a dour frown, which was a challenge with Thalia howling in the background. Once again, he began to prance in circles, this time attempting to take it seriously. His cheeks burned hotter the harder Thalia laughed. She was merciless.

"Sappho, tell him he's doing it wrong."

"He's right there, Princess."

"Tell him he needs to learn the proper steps. He looks like a drunken peacock."

Sinbad faltered, his hands letting go of his imaginary partner. There were steps?

"Why don't you show me how it's done, then, Thalia?" He held out his hand in invitation. Her hand lifted to take his, the most natural thing in the world. For a moment, he believed she would take it. He forgot about the strange melancholy that had overtaken her recently, her new-found religious convictions. There was nothing in the world that could keep them apart. They were inseparable.

Then, she caught herself. Pulling her hand back to her head, she shook her head, refusing to meet his gaze.

Sinbad's stomach dropped as their current reality came crashing back into him. This was his fault. If he hadn't pushed her away, she would never have returned to that place. Whatever had happened to her there wouldn't have occurred. She would be happy, and so would he.

"Come on, Sin." Ja'far stepped in, taking Sinbad's hand and dragging him several paces away from the table. "I'll teach you."

The Attican palace used to have hundreds of slaves, dozens of servants for each member of the royal family. In recent years, Attica had fallen on hard times, and many of the slaves had been sold off to the mainland. Positions at the palace were rare but cushy, and every slave dreamed of working there. Sappho was not one of them.

She was an eleven-year-old girl who'd been born into this life. Though she'd been ripped from her parents before she could remember, she considered herself lucky. She'd managed a position as a high-class slave for a prominent family before she was even old enough to understand the concept of status and servitude. Her mentor, the woman who raised her, drilled into her that it was her place to be neither seen nor heard. She was not to desire more from this life than what she was given. Dreams were for freemen and idiots. Sappho was neither.

When Eleni Galanis, the girl Sappho used to serve, gossiped, Sappho paid no mind. It was not her place to know things or to think, only to serve. Yet, there was one incident she had never been able to forget. Sappho had been standing in the corner, watching Eleni and her visitor lunch. The afternoon sunlight poured in, catching in Eleni's bright blue eyes. Sappho found herself more mesmerized by them every day.

Dipping a piece of bread in olive oil, Eleni tilted her head demurely toward her guest. "I take it you have news from the palace?"

The other girl beamed proudly. "My maid's connections got something juicy this time."

Eleni raised an eyebrow, leaning in excitedly. "Juicy?"

Sappho stood rigidly, tuning out the conversation just enough that it wouldn't stick, but she would still hear if Eleni requested something.

"Everyone in the palace is talking about it. The king is furious and you'll never guess why."

"Why?" Eleni's mouth was full, but she could rarely contain herself around gossip. "Why why why?"

The other girl put a finger to her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm… it's pretty bad. I shouldn't be spreading a rumor like this about our dear princess."

Eleni went rigid, her lips pulling into a wide grin. "Oh, please tell!"

The girl leaned in, whispering low enough that Sappho could only make out a few words. "She… …a girl."

Eleni went pale. "Is such a thing even possible? How did that idea even occur to her? How would two women even…?"

"Why don't you ask your maid over there?" The girl shot Sappho a malicious grin. "I catch her leering at you all the time."

Sappho's muscles locked in place as Eleni's beautiful eyes turned to her. "She's a child. Children don't leer."

Fear crawled underneath Sappho's skin. Leering? She knew her interest in Eleni was unusual, but she didn't understand. She just thought Eleni was pretty. It wasn't like she had crude thoughts about her. How could she? They were both girls.

"There's something wrong with her, Eleni. If it's this bad now, it'll only get worse. You should sell her before she tries something."

Trembling, Eleni rose, directing her hard gaze at her guest. "I think you should leave."

Sappho breathed a sigh of relief as the visitor shot Eleni a dirty look before marching out the door. Eleni might be friends with the other girl, but Sappho had been serving Eleni for as long as she could remember. Eleni had to know that the accusations were false.

Over the next two years, other girls' Sappho's age took an interest in boys, but she closed in on herself. When bathing Eleni, she averted her gaze to hide her increasing anxiety about what she was beginning to suspect was the truth. She did like girls. They gave her butterflies, made her heart pound in her chest. It was impossible to ignore, but she did a good job faking. At least, she thought she did.

It was a foggy autumn day when Eleni pulled her aside. Today, her mistress's lovely blue eyes were somber, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"I know what you are, Sappho."

Sappho's eyelids fluttered as she tried to process the meaning of what Eleni was saying.

"You try so hard to hide it, but I practically raised you. You can't fool me." Eleni gingerly brought a hand to Sappho's cheek, prepared to wipe the tears that she didn't yet know to shed. "I've heard of such things— women with a preference for women. There are doctors who speak of these tendencies in their writings."

Sappho's blood ran cold. Eleni knew, and now that Sappho was older, she understood what happened to girls like her. They were shunned, forced to marry, or, most likely in Sappho's case, sold off to work in the mines.

"Please don't— don't send me to the mines. I can control myself. I can change."

Eleni shook her head sadly. "I don't want you to change. I don't think you chose this, but life for you here will always be one of solitude and deception. I was going to sell you to the mainland, but something happened. A position has opened up in the palace under the princess. I think about that poor girl… she's hiding as well. I want you to go serve her. Be careful about letting her know about you, but one day, I hope you'll find comfort in one another."

Sappho fell to her knees, clinging to her mistress's skirts. "Please, I don't want to serve anyone but you."

Eleni bent down, pulling Sappho into her arms. "You only say that because I'm all you know. Sappho, you're a smart girl. The truth is, you're destined for something greater than the life of a handmaiden. In the palace, you can gain real influence. You'll be able to make a difference. Isn't that what you've always dreamed of?"

"I don't dream of anything…" Sappho buried her head in Eleni's chest. "I don't want anything."

"Goodbye, Sappho."

...

Sappho stood in the doorway, her head hanging low in deference to her new master. The princess Thalia was described by the others as a lax mistress. She was often too absorbed in her studies to notice when the maids were slacking, and as a result, working for her was one of the most enviable positions in the palace.

"You're here to serve me, yes?" Sappho couldn't see her, but her voice held a level of contempt that grated on Sappho's nerves.

"I am, My Lady."

"Good. I'll let you know if I need anything."

She dared to look up as the princess walked away. She was different from the reckless girl Eleni used to gossip about. She carried herself with even greater poise than Sappho's previous master. Yet, where Eleni had spent most of her days spinning yarn, weaving, and gossiping, Princess Thalia surrounded herself with books and tutors constantly. Sappho tried to tune out the information. It wasn't her place to know things. Even so, she found the allure of knowledge so tempting that she coveted it. She coveted Thalia's life, her ability to read— and so Sappho tried to learn.

"What is that?"

Months into serving Thalia, Sappho had begun to write letters on her hands in an attempt to learn. Embarrassed and ashamed, Sappho bowed her head.

"I don't dare lie to you, Princess. I've been trying to learn to read. These are letters for me to practice remembering throughout the day. I know a lowly girl such as myself is not supposed to covet knowledge..."

Sappho awaited her mistress's fury. It wasn't her place as a slave or a woman to seek out knowledge. It wasn't her place to want things or to dream.

Princess Thalia surprised Sappho with her response. "That's an admirable pursuit. Learn as much as you can. You'll be better able to serve me."

Ba-dum.

Sappho's heart skipped a beat. Her mistress wanted her to want things. She wanted her to dream.

"Princess, thank you for your blessing!"

Thalia turned around and began to walk ahead before pausing. "By the way, I don't believe I've ever asked your name."

Ba-dum.

Sappho froze, averting her gaze. She was in trouble. Why else would the princess take an interest in her? Thalia was too wrapped up in herself to care about some lowly slave.

"Sappho," she answered reluctantly.

Ba-dum.

Princess Thalia's hand landed on Sappho's head, and her shoulders hunched. Her heart threatened to pound its way out of her ribcage. It was so loud, she could barely hear. What was this? This was more than what she felt toward other girls.

"Thank you, Sappho. For everything you do."

Something inside Sappho snapped, the string tethering her to her pride. It was in that moment she knew: she was destined for more than what Eleni could have given her. In the palace, she had learned to want things— want knowledge, want companionship, want Thalia. It didn't matter to her if her crush faded. She knew in her bones that this was where she belonged. She would follow the princess for the rest of her life.

Sappho lay in bed, her eyelids drooping as the sway of the boat lulled her into drowsiness. Fighting her exhaustion, she got up and paced the room for the tenth time that night. She couldn't sleep, not yet. She wanted answers that Thalia wasn't giving.

The book she'd been up late reading every night was one that she'd pilfered from the temple before leaving Attica. It contained countless spells and rituals, calling upon the goddess for fortune, safe delivery of a child, protection of a household, and more. The one she was interested in, though, was the purification ritual. But, from what she could see, the ritual prescribed was nothing more than a routine ablution followed by lengthy prayer. Yet, when Thalia had returned, her pupils had been constricted, and she'd been mildly disoriented.

Amaltheia had pointed it out. She was showing symptoms of recovering from a heavy dose of Merosh. Yet, so far none of these dense pages of rituals described anything that called for use of the substance. Frustrated, Sappho sat on the bed.

"Goddess Asena, hear me. Your daughter is in danger and your priestesses are corrupt. Yet, I know not what to do—"

She cut herself off, a swell of anger rising in her chest. The goddess wouldn't respond. She had abandoned Attica and its people long ago. Why cling so desperately to a slumbering deity? Throwing the book against the wall, she buried her head in her pillow. It was hopeless. Short of interrogating the priestess herself, she would never know what had happened to the princess she used to admire.

Then, slowly, her anger died down, and she crossed the floor to pick up the book. The title of the page caught her eye.

"Indoctrination Ritual."

And the first ingredient listed: Merosh.