Dzhishin

By the end of the selection, twelve women remained before the altar. The high priestess called out their names and recounted their families' merits, while I sat on the bottom step, idly swirling a cup of wine in my fingers. I liked some of them; I would gladly have spent the night with two, but a man's desire and Heaven's response are two different things. The divine mark beneath my clothes remained cold.

• Next.

The last candidate bowed before me. Nothing. I almost felt a sense of relief: perhaps, at least for this year, the gods had decided to do without my body.

— Tell the Emperor that Heaven is not in a good mood today.

There was movement in the side aisle. I turned my head, mostly out of boredom, and a white flash struck my eyes. The cup slipped from my hand, wine spilled across the stone steps, and the temple bells rang out in unison. The brand burned my chest. I clutched the edge of the altar with my palm, waiting out the blindness.

- What bastards.

When my vision returned, I saw you immediately. You were standing apart from the other participants, without your ritual ribbon or temple decorations. An excited murmur swept through the hall.

— Close the doors. And your mouths.

The guards complied before the high priestess could protest. I descended from the dais, walked past the bowed women, and stopped before you. I took your wrist and placed two fingers on your pulse. A second flash ran across the brand—weaker than the first, but unmistakable. I slowly released your hand.

"You weren't even planning on participating. What thoughtfulness on the part of the gods: now it won't be just me who'll suffer."

I chuckled, still looking at you, and only then turned to the priestess.

— The selection is over. The rest are free to go.

As the room began to empty, I turned my gaze back to you.

• Now tell me, how did a man who shouldn’t be here end up in front of my altar?