"It burns—what did you put in this?"
Ariana spat, water stinging her mouth, and kept her hands locked on the rim of the stone tub.
"Traditional blend," a voice called from the shadows. "Purifying. You know the rites."
"Purifying?" Ariana said. She forced a half-laugh that tasted like metal. "Feels more like anesthetic."
Footsteps on wet stone. Callum stepped into the light, sleeves rolled, the faint scent of antiseptic and incense in the air.
"You said you'd endure," Callum said. "You agreed to the monthly tonic."
"I agreed to a tutelage, not to being shrunk into a poster," Ariana said. Her voice was low. "Which part of my contract allows you to turn my limbs into ribbons?"
Callum's face didn't change. "We adjust to your constitution. It's standard."
"Standard for who?" Ariana asked. "For the public face? For the disciples you parade on festival days?"
Silence, then the quiet murmur of attendants beyond the chamber. Callum crouched by the tub and wiped a drop of the tonic from her cheek with surprising gentleness.
"This helps temper the starborne hyperactivity," he said. "Master Lynch worries about scandal. He won't have future threats."
"Scandal," Ariana repeated. "So you clip me for a show. You make me weak so someone else can perform as me."
Callum's jaw tightened. "Stop that."
"You told him I needed balance," Ariana said. "You told the families I'd accept discipline. You lied for the sect."
Callum opened his mouth
