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Shadi wished that simple words could have adequately expressed what was going on inside her, this simmering of anger and fear and disappointment and desire, all emotions that ignited and extinguished each other.

For the Trials were only part of the conflict she carried in her heart.

"I have news from Kerina," she began. The very mention of her friend's name made her chest tighten. "She told me about the preparations her family was making for the confrontation, for the journey, and all the things she would be doing in Larsa," she said. The last word died on her lips.

Larsa.

The capital of Kenjir.

"She was overjoyed, Roben. She was excited, and she kept babbling about the clothes she planned to wear, the jewelry she had been given, and how she would attract the attention of the Champions or their families."

Shadi bit her lower lip as she worked up the courage to continue the story.

"I'm sure when she wrote me that message, she was jumping for joy like a little girl. Do you know that? Kerina! The one who spent most of her life learning the healing arts, who dreamed of filling her home with orphans and the needy. I didn't recognize her anymore. And after her, Maera, Ninda, Alla and all the others. They turned into a gang of hens, thirsty for fame and popularity! I couldn't believe it, Roben. All they seemed to be thinking about were the bloody Trials and the Jubilee celebrations right after. I couldn't take it, I couldn't take it, do you understand?" she groaned, pressing her hands to her cheeks.

"They gave up their dreams. Even the proudest and most determined. They erased their aspirations to become I don't even know what." She paused, took the handkerchief Roben handed her, and wept resignedly.

"I thought I had put these thoughts behind me after Norain's story. But I didn't. I felt so weak and stupid."

Roben took the handkerchief from her hands and wiped away her tears. "Don't say that. You were always the smart one."

Shadi sobbed, feeling her throat tighten as laughter mixed with her tears. "And you are the one who is too handsome."

"Now you're making fun of me."

"No, Roben. You are the beautiful one between us, and the funny one. And the good one. Much more than I could ever be. That's why I love you so much. I'm sorry if I don't tell you that often. I'm always so distracted."

"I know you love me."

Shadi took a deep breath. She was almost there. It was the right time to find the right words, even with herself. "I don't know what came over me. This thing with the river started months ago. I've always been afraid of water, from a very young age, though I can't remember why. And every time I thought about the Trials, I felt lost and suffocated at the same time. Like I was drowning. So I asked Darjin to teach me how to swim. The gods only know how difficult it was to even set foot in the water. But I finally succeeded. I began to feel better, to think that if I could overcome this fear, then I could overcome all the others. Maybe I would have the strength to change."

"And go to the Trials without making a fuss."

Shadi nodded.

How many years had passed? Ten? Twelve? It didn't matter. She could have recited her father's tales from memory.

Shadi loved his voice, his passion for stories and the fervor with which he told them. Leoben Jan Hura chose his words carefully, imbuing them with charm, making them as light as butterfly wings or as sharp as bear claws. She could have sat on his knees forever, surrounded by his arms, leafing through one of the many books in the family library. She would follow his fingers as they underlined important passages and pointed out the hidden details in illustrations that never ceased to intrigue and amaze her.

In her father's eyes, there was love for the secrets held within these pages. Worlds that only blossomed in those who welcomed them into their minds and hearts. The aloof face of the man, who always seemed to be so busy with urgent and vital matters that he even kept his family away, lit up—no, transformed—when he read one of these stories.

Shadi watched this little miracle with big eyes and wonder in her soul. She wished she could harness that magic and make her father's features glow forever.

But it was not possible. The magic faded quickly.

That cold winter night, so many years ago, Shadi had believed that her father wanted to tell her a new fantasy story. So she had jumped out of bed and landed on his lap, opening the book he held in his hands, laughing and struggling to see what was inside.

And her father had laughed with her. How she loved his laughter. How long had it been since she heard it?

"This is not just another book," he said gravely.

There was a mystery in that sentence that left her breathless. "And what is it, Dad?"

He had caressed her cheek. "This is The Hymns to the Reasons."

Shadi had repeated the words, moving her lips in silence, looking sideways at her father and enjoying his conspiratorial tone.

"These pages recount the origin of everything. They tell of how the stars became the gods and how they created our lands, then the sparks of life they planted there. And they sing the story of the first people and the deeds of the first Masters, the divine beings the gods created to guide our way."

"The Masters," Shadi had whispered, her voice reduced to a very thin thread.

Her father had turned the pages of the book until he found an illustration that seemed to glow with its own light, as if it had been etched with the ink of the stars.

Shadi followed her father's finger as it traced the image. Was it of a man? It looked like one, but not quite. He had thick hair that shone like the sun. His skin glowed with dark tattoos, and it looked as if his body had been carved out of rock.

Why were the men and women around him so short? And why were they on their knees? Perhaps because of his eyes. Clear as the sky, yet fierce.

Shadi felt intimidated by this image and pressed herself against her father. He laughed at her reaction and kissed her on the head.

"This is the Tutor. The gods have placed him to guard all that is right, to protect Kenjir and all the souls that inhabit our lands," he had explained. The pages had literally flown by under Shadi's curious and eager eyes.

That night, she had also learned of the existence of the other two Supreme Masters: the Binder and the Nurturer. Her father had told her about the perfect balance that was the foundation of Kenjir's government. Each Supreme Master commanded a Household populated by hundreds of Masters, creatures of extraordinary features and abilities.

But one Supreme Master towered over Kenjir and became its Negus, the Emperor, for exactly thirty-three years. At the end of his reign, the Binders, Tutors, and Nurturers would choose Champions from the ranks of each Household to represent them in the most important event the peoples of Kenjir could experience and remember.

The Trials.

The day when the three Champions of the Masters would fight. The day when the next Negus, Emperor of all things, would rise. To witness this was an immense honor, a privilege that was not reserved for all families that lived in Kenjir and that was as much a gift as it was a recognition, a legitimation. With a dreamy voice, her father had told her his wishes: "I promise that you will see the Trials with your own eyes, little one. You will see the Masters with your own eyes. He had kissed her head again and held her close.

It was then that Shadi had begun to dream of this extraordinary event: a clash of divine beings. A new Negus.

Now, however, that prospect no longer seemed so attractive to her. Time had not dulled the memory of her father's tale. Rather, it had darkened it, stripping it of its wonder and blackening it with certainty and truth.

Shadi had hoped the Trials would never touch her family. But the invitation had arrived.

Roben seemed distracted for a while as he pondered Shadi's confession.

Then he lifted his chin as if he had just woken up from a bad dream. "I don't know if I can ever truly understand what was going through your mind. But I'm sorry you chose to deal with your fears in this way."

Did he feel guilty? Did he think he could have helped her before the situation escalated?

Maybe he was right. But she had not given him a chance to listen to her, not really, until that moment.

Shame closed her mouth.

"But any problem can be solved with the right mix of truth and lies," he said.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I might be able to find the right words to make someone doubt their decisions."

"Would that someone be Mother?"

"Gods willing, yes. Now, get back under the covers or the fever will kill you once and for all. I'll be right back."

Darjin kept her eyes closed, feeling the memories of what she had experienced within these walls fight for space in her soul. The night would end quickly, too quickly, and the road back to the Fields of Dawn would open before her. She wondered how much the folds of time and the endless recursions of fate had changed her.

She sighed when she heard a knock at the door. A light knock, as if whoever was knocking was afraid of being heard by prying ears.

Darjin tiptoed to the entrance of the small room, put her ear to the wood and listened carefully.

The breath of a young man. He was strong, nervous, and moved his feet on the pavement as if undecided how long to wait for an answer.

When Darjin opened a crack, she had already recognized that cheeky smile and those eyes that shone even in the darkness. Even on a night like this, full of resentment, ambiguous accusations, and poisoned judgments, his pale skin almost glowed.

"What can I do for you, my lord?"

"What you do best," Roben winked.

Shadi let herself fall back onto the pillows and hoped that Roben's plan would succeed, whatever it was.

No, her brother was not as stupid and vain as many thought.

Well, a little, yes, but not in the way his admirers attributed to him. Besides, none of them had put up much resistance to his attentions, from what she had been told. Surely Roben's reputation would improve if he had payed more attention to his acquaintances and spared himself a few nights outside the fortress, assuming his encounters were only nocturnal, which Shadi doubted.

Roben was disarming. All he had to do was smile and you would end up saying yes. Period.

But that smile also filled the air around him with a sense of shallowness. In that moment, when it seemed that no one else in the world was willing to listen to her, let alone help her, Shadi marveled at how easily one could be swept away by first impressions and whispers shared in hushed tones, with knowing glances and discreet hands covering mouths.

Roben warned her that she was not going to like his idea and that the price would be high.

And Shadi was ready to accept any condition to keep Darjin with her. Perhaps the Dagger would have lived better among her people, free of political intrigue and a loyalty oath that had turned into a noose.

She huffed and sat down again, running a nervous hand through her hair. It was a shade less dark than Roben's, and in summer sunsets it glowed copper. Mother said she would tame it for her with the color of black lilies from the lakes when she turned eighteen. It was as if Shadi's natural color betrayed indecision and lack of manners. Black or red. No middle ground. Tiona Jan Hura was like that. It was said that even the gods bowed before her decisions. She showed the same determination when she threw open the door to Roben's bedroom and walked through the entrance with long strides.

Shadi stifled a groan of surprise, telling herself that she was living the nightmare of all his brother's lovers: that of being caught in his bed, shamed by a mother drowned in a rage concealed by perfect features. From the way she walked and pointed to the bed, Shadi believed Roben's plan had failed miserably.

"It was your idea, wasn't it?"

Shadi remained silent. For once, she had no idea what her mother was talking about. A true rarity. She shook her head.

"Is this how I raised you? Do you try to make fun of my decisions? What about your father's? Will you even dignify me with an answer?"

Shadi swallowed hard. Tiona controlled her voice and facial expressions remarkably well. One could have said she was chatting about the weather over cinnamon biscuits and steaming tea.

"I would never forgive myself for such disrespect, Mother. And I know that in your infinite wisdom you would repay me with the utmost severity."

Tiona did not respond immediately. In the few seconds that followed, Shadi could almost hear the creaking of the tiles that made up her mother's mental mosaic. They fit together delicately. Often in dangerous ways. The woman smoothed the sleeves of her gold lace nightgown and only resumed speaking when she felt her son's presence behind her.

Shadi looked into Roben's eyes and read his gaze.

She had to play along, saying the bare minimum as he approached his mother, his gaze unfocused, barely aware of the tension this woman was emanating.

Maybe Roben had taken after Tiona. If that woman was capable of appearing relaxed and calm when she actually held a hurricane of rage in her chest, he could pretend to be stupidly attractive. A big, attractive toy without any unpleasant desires. People should have feared them a lot more than they already did. Both of them. Maybe the real confrontation was not between her and her mother's choices. Maybe it was about who, between the woman who had given birth to them and her brother, was better at hiding calculations and desires.

"So you are as foolish as your brother says?"

"I guess so, Mother."

"And you would have kept quiet if not for Roben and his honesty."

Shadi could almost feel the floor of the room becoming as thin and fragile as the surface of a frozen lake. This conversation had just begun and was already taking on the characteristics of a walk on the edge of a great chasm. How close could she get without falling?

"Roben has always been a beacon of nobility and generosity, Mother. His honesty is praised throughout Kenjir."

Her brother smiled at her, then grew serious and solemn when Tiona returned to look at him. "It must be because of these virtues he confessed. He told me everything, down to the last detail, about the wager. He may be loyal, noble, and generous. But your game was so reckless that I cannot, I absolutely cannot, turn my head and pretend I don't know."

What game?

"Your father has decreed an exemplary punishment. And a compromise."

Shadi felt her head spin.

"You, silly beast, always in rut." Tiona scolded her son, "You will not attend the Trials. You will not be able to take advantage of the privileges you have been promised. And you, my daughter, will do everything in your power to represent our family honorably at the most important event of the last thirty-three years. You will use your scheming little mind to make your way through the fleet of silly hens attending the competition, and you will outshine them all. All of them. You will return to this fortress with a promise of marriage, Shadi, or I will push your conniving little head under the surface of the river you love so much with my own hands. Once and for all."

Shadi held her breath.

Her mother had never threatened her so openly. And Roben had never exposed himself or lied so brazenly for her. What had he achieved?

"What about Darjin?" Shadi asked. Keeping her voice calm, not letting it turn into a gasp, was as difficult as getting out of the icy river that had nearly killed her.

"She will go with you. It seems she is just a victim in this ugly story after all," Tiona concluded. She lifted the hem of her robe, turned her back on Shadi, and walked past Roben without a glance. At the threshold, she turned and said over her shoulder to her two children, "Of course, if you return empty-handed, your Dagger will vanish into thin air. You will never see her again. No one will ever see her again. Sleep well, my daughter. And rest. Preparations for the journey will soon begin. Larsa is waiting for us!"

The door closed behind the swirl of fine fabrics Tiona wore, and the air in the room died away, becoming as still as Shadi's mind, unable to absorb what she had heard and the meaning it would take on.

Roben seemed equally numb, but he was the first to speak, and Shadi was grateful.

"I'm afraid I'm no longer her favorite son," he smiled. He shrugged, with mixture of sadness and resentment. This simple gesture, which should have lightened the tone of the aftermath of Tiona's visit, opened a drawer in Shadi's mind.

"Oh, Roben! I'm so sorry." She got out of bed and went to meet him, but lacked the courage to look him in the eye. "What did you say to her? Why does she want to shut you out?"

He shook his head, then looked away.

Shadi felt overwhelmed by the slimy sands of guilt and inadequacy. She had been so focused on herself and Darjin's fate that she had been unable to really consider the consequences of what she had told Roben. Only now did she understand it clearly.

He did not want her parents to force her to act like all her peers, to be forced to show off in order to contract a marriage of interest. And it didn't matter how much her family could gain in wealth and prestige. He had supported her, as always, even though it had taken a heavy toll.

Because Shadi finally understood that Roben really wanted to go to the Trials. He spoke of it lightly and sarcastically, just so as not to put any more strain on her. His natural charisma could open the doors of any family, even the upper class ones. But he had chosen to put Shadi's interests ahead of his own.

She loved him even more, if that was possible.

And she hated herself, without a shadow of a doubt, for being so reckless.

"I told her a story. It sounded believable because I had help."

"Roben, you shouldn't have. I didn't deserve such a sacrifice."

"There's no going back now."

"Who helped you?"

Roben smiled again. "If I time it right, she will tell you herself."

And he was right, as always. The door moved silently on its hinges, as if pushed by the wind.

Darjin entered the room quietly, blending into the shadows and silence as she always did.

Shadi's eyes were clouded with tears. She moved closer to the Dagger and pulled her into an embrace, ignoring her protests.

"You're killing me, my lady," Darjin gasped as Shadi held her, one shoulder wet with tears.

The girl seemed to have become a shadow of her former self in the past few months. So Darjin indulged her affection, then gently patted her right shoulder and waited for the tremor to subside.

"How did you convince her?" she heard Shadi ask her older brother, who had silently enjoyed the scene, one of his perfect smiles plastered on that handsome face.

"It's not just me. Darjin was absolutely convincing."

"I said yes, no, and shook my head."

Shadi's became suspicious and pointed a finger at his brother's chest. "Did you force her to lie?"

Roben did not flinch, holding his sister's gaze, and Darjin wondered if, for the first time, they were actually going to fight. Usually, he just gave in to the girl's useless blackmail and always seemed ready to do anything to support her.

"He didn't force me, my lady."

"Let's say I helped her see things in a different light, and so we found a way to prolong her stay by your side."

Shadi ran her hands through her long, loose hair. "My head hurts. I'm not sure I want to know what's really going on," she groaned, dragging her feet to the bed. She collapsed into it.

Darjin exchanged an uncertain look with Roben.

"Don't take me seriously, damn it. Of course I want to know everything," they heard Shadi chirping from the valley of pillows and blankets.

Roben laughed softly. The young man looked sad, as if a too-heavy burden had been lifted from him, and yet he mourned its absence. He had lost something important.

Darjin told herself that it was too late to go back. It was done now. She had stood by him as he told half-truths and lies to the Lugalen himself and to his wife.

She wondered how soon she would regret it.

In silence she listened. He sat down beside his sister and spoke to her in a resigned voice. "I told her it was my idea. That you felt compelled to learn to swim because of me. That I had laughed at you for weeks and bet you that you would never learn. Mother didn't believe me, of course. Until I brought a witness."

Emerging from the blankets, Shadi blinked and glared at him.

"Mother knows that honesty and sincerity are qualities Darjin's people pride themselves on. If she had questioned it, she would have caused a political incident. So she finally gave in," Roben explained.

"What if she finds out? What if she learns that her testimony is false, that the whole wager is a sham?"

"We'll make sure that doesn't happen."

"You can't be sure, Roben. And I'm sorry, Darjin. I caused all this."

"Yes, my lady, you are right. Just as I have brought about the state of things as they are now. I am the last person in the world you need to apologize to. Your beloved brother is also right. He offered me the chance to keep my oath by continuing to protect you wherever you go."

"You had to lie."

"I chose to stay by your side."

Shadi lowered her eyes as if overwhelmed by the consequences of her own actions. She was now running on a path that would lead her to Larsa, the capital. The jewel of Kenjir. The cradle of the Masters, the gods who held fate itself between their fingers.

But in Darjin's eyes, it was just a lair of golden-skinned vipers.