The moonlight spilled through the carved marble arches of Kanika's chambers like liquid silver, pooling on the cool stone floor and painting shadows that danced with the flickering flames of a dozen oil lamps. The scent of jasmine and sandalwood hung heavy in the air, thick and intoxicating, curling around her like the silken sheets that had slipped from her body hours ago.

Kanika stood before the great bronze mirror, her reflection caught between the golden glow of the lamps and the pale light of the moon. She was a vision that would make men weep and women seethe with envy, a creature carved from the finest clay the gods had ever blessed. Her skin gleamed like burnished copper, smooth and flawless, untouched by the sun's harsh kiss. It was the color of cinnamon and honey, warm and rich, and it seemed to glow from within.