Little Pink Starfish

Despite saying he would “surely see you again,” Lan Gwen made no attempt to request another audience in the days that followed. Not that Nyne would have accepted it, but still—his silence was irritating. Fortunately, Nyne was soon too distracted to dwell on Gwen. Lu had been more clingy than usual.

“Lord Nyne! I made fig jam myself!”

Lu cheerfully presented a slice of bread slathered with jam. Nyne reluctantly took a bite. It was sickeningly sweet, oversaturated with jam. He grimaced and pushed it away.

“Lu, it’s too sweet.”

“Eh? But it’s jam…”

“There’s just too much on the bread.”

Deflated, Lu’s earlier cheer evaporated. He sulkily lowered himself to Nyne’s feet and began rubbing at his instep with the hem of his robe. With a sigh, Nyne gestured him closer.

“What’s wrong with you lately?”

Lu didn’t answer, but Nyne already knew. Lu always grew jealous when Nyne favored someone else—even slightly. With Yiwu gaining attention lately, and now Gwen added to the list, it must have triggered him again. Even though Lu still spent the most time with him. Pitying him a little, Nyne softened his tone.

“If there’s something you want, just say it.”

The best way to appease Lu was simple: gifts. Whenever Nyne granted him a fine item, Lu would proudly flaunt it for days, satisfied not so much with the item itself, but with what it symbolized—Nyne’s affection.

“May I wear a new piece of jewelry to today’s banquet, Lord Nyne?”

Which of course meant: Would you give me something new? Nyne nodded magnanimously.

“Alright. What do you want?”

“A snake-shaped piece, Lord Nyne.”

“Snake-shaped?”

Nyne had countless ornaments, including more than a few with serpent motifs. He looked confused as Lu suddenly brightened, jumping up to retrieve a small box. When he opened it—Nyne’s face fell.

That piece. The snake biting into a pomegranate-shaped garnet, its coiled body wrapping tightly like it might slither across the skin. Nyne’s expression darkened, and Lu immediately knelt.

“Not that one.”

Nyne’s voice was cold. Lu shut the box quickly, flustered.

“I—I only thought… You never wore it, Lord Nyne… I didn’t mean to covet it, I swear…”

Afraid of losing Nyne’s favor, Lu’s voice trembled. But Nyne couldn’t take his eyes off the closed box. What was it? It wasn’t exactly sentimental attachment. His chest tightened, not in affection, but with a deep, inexplicable discomfort.

“Lord Nyne…”

Lu’s worried voice pulled Nyne from his daze just as he tried to respond, but Popo interjected.

“Sha, it’s time to prepare.”

Nyne stood with a sigh. Lu remained kneeling, eyes pleading. Slaves held up the jewelry boxes like living stands, and Nyne approached them silently.

He chose a set of gold jewelry adorned with rams and sapphires. As he clasped the earrings and necklace around Lu himself, he murmured:

“I’m not angry.”

Even after receiving the jewelry, Lu was still hesitant. Nyne stroked his cheek reassuringly.

“Blue gems suit you well.”

Finally, Lu’s expression brightened again. Nyne gestured for him to rise.

“But from now on, don’t bring that snake ornament before me.”

“Yes, Lord Nyne.”

Lu stood respectfully. Some priests quietly ushered the slaves carrying snake-themed items away. Nyne doubted he’d see it again soon. It’s not really the snake, he thought. But he said nothing. He couldn’t explain the feeling—only that it was unpleasant.

While the priests adjusted the trailing linen of his robes, Nyne’s gaze drifted toward a feathered accessory. He remembered the drawing Amon had liked—the one of him with a feather in his hair. Picking up on his mood, the priests eagerly brought out the adornment.

“This blue kingfisher feather suits you so well, Sha. Its shimmer will make you shine at the banquet.”

They attached rectangular-cut feathers to gold plates and wove them into a chain around his neck. White linen veils laced with pearls and blue feathers crowned his head, while sapphire earrings brushed against his earlobes, and a gold bracelet shaped like an eagle’s wings encircled his wrist. Nyne admired his reflection and, satisfied, allowed the priests to lower their heads in gratitude.

Tonight’s banquet wasn’t large—only high priests would attend. But it was still one of the most important gatherings, with only Trastasa’s most powerful religious figures present. That was also why Nyne disliked it.

Held in a lakeside peristyle pavilion, the building’s veils fluttered in the breeze, and rich incense hung in the air. Nyne lingered by his palanquin, reluctant to enter.

That’s when Amon arrived.

“Sha Amon.”

Nyne approached him, quietly pleased. Amon’s eyes fell on the feathered ornaments, and Nyne smiled.

“You have many feathers today.”

“Yes. They’re made from kingfisher feathers.”

Amon reached out and lightly flicked one. No compliments followed—no “beautiful,” “lovely,” or “suits you”—but Nyne felt content just receiving attention.

As the two entered the hall, the high priests lounging lazily straightened at once. Nyne frowned. He didn’t typically judge by appearances, but something about these high priests always left him queasy.

Ignoring their greetings, he sat down with a frosty expression.

“Sha Amon, Sha Nyne.”

Ossen Iyad, seated at the next highest place, greeted them with a beaming smile. Despite the coldness of the two Sha, he remained unfazed.

“How can this humble, loyal servant express the honor of your presence here?”

Ossen Iyad: the supreme priest of all priests, the Am-Net, and the overseer of the entire High Temple. Amon’s personal priest. He never missed a ritual or banquet and was always decked in opulence second only to the Sha.

Always smiling with feigned humility and pledging his life to the Sha… and yet, something about him gave Nyne chills. That was why he disliked events like this. But if Amon was here, he had no choice.

At Ossen’s gesture, the attending priests began to serve them with perfect grace. Food and drink appeared at their fingertips. Yet Nyne found the high priests’ greedy stares deeply unpleasant.

“Thanks to the Sha’s grace, Trastasa will enjoy another year of abundant harvest.”

Ossen filled a goblet with wine and offered it to Amon, buttering him up. It wasn’t even flood season yet, and already he was talking of good harvests. Nyne didn’t even glance at the wine.

More flattery followed—about how the whole nation sang praises of the Sha, how none could hope to repay such divine benevolence. Nyne let it go in one ear and out the other, gazing instead at the lake where fireflies sparkled like fallen stars.

Amon listened blankly, occasionally offering a quiet, “Is that so?”

Only after a lengthy stream of adoration did Ossen turn to the other high priests. A beautiful dancer appeared, half-clothed and glittering in torchlight. Lutes, lyres, sistrums, and hand drums set a lively tone.

Amon, having barely touched anything but three gemstones on his plate, rose from his seat. Nyne quickly followed. As the Sha departed, the priests bowed deeply, then resumed the banquet.