The noise of the market was a chaotic symphony of shouts, clattering carts, and the braying of donkeys, but for Ashlyn, the world had narrowed down to the small, still space around the blind priestess. The woman stood like a monolith in a rushing river, her simple grey robes unmoving in the breeze.
"Your husband bears the destiny of a commander," the priestess whispered. Her voice was low and raspy, like dry leaves skittering over stone, yet it cut through the din of the market with startling clarity. She leaned closer, the scent of old incense and earth clinging to her clothes. "The stars have aligned for him. He will surely acquire all that is his—the power, the title, the glory. It is written in the tapestry of fate."
Ashlyn's heart soared. It was true. It was all true. The validation was like a sweet wine, intoxicating her senses. She had been right to trust her instincts,right to choose and push Carlos, right to mortgage everything.
