Page 5

3

She could find anything in those pages. The words painted pictures of distant cities, of people so different from any she had ever met, living lives she could not imagine.

Shadi turned the pages of the tome she had placed on the thick fur rug and studied the margins. They were worn, thick with annotations bearing unintelligible words. The ink was faded in many places, and large stains made whole sections look more like strange dark spots than readable paragraphs.

Perhaps she should have thrown more wood onto the fire to brighten the room and make it easier to read.

But what was before her eyes was too intriguing. It was as if the book was whispering in her ear, calling to her. And for years, she had been refining the art of letting herself be carried away by reading. She had designed this room, on the top floor of one of the tallest towers in the citadel of Jabal Amira, to keep distractions to a minimum.

With infinite patience, and a few favors from her brother Roben, she had managed to arrange for shelves of solid wood to be placed along four of the eight walls, reaching up to the dome.

She had amassed hundreds of books; many she had taken from the official library of the fortress, many others were the result of bargaining with her friends and acquaintances. For the most valuable ones, she had even gone as far as paying bribes for them.

Shadi was very proud of her resourcefulness.

Lying on her stomach, she shivered a little and told herself that she should have worn thicker nightclothes. She reached out one arm, grabbed a fur coat that was lying on the chair next to her, and threw it over the other blankets.

Then she went back to reading.

The tome had no title. Or rather, the embossing on the leather cover was so worn that it was unreadable.

Could this have been intentional? Had someone tried to obscure the contents of these pages to keep them away from prying eyes? In a way, she liked to imagine that was the case. That suspicion made the reading even more intriguing. It had taken her six months to find this copy of the memoirs of the Original Promise, the wife of the king who first united all Kenjir and ascended to the role of Negus.

The Promise was an attractive young woman.

Shadi studied the illustration that depicted her, the last one drawn before the girl's face became sacred and was forever hidden from the eyes of the people.

She analyzed the round face, the large black eyes, the dark hair. The artist had portrayed her walking in the middle of a wheat field, her robes puffed up by the wind and her hair flowing at the same angle as the leaves and branches. The drawing intertwined the girl's form with the background, creating a web of thin but solid lines.

The Promise appeared beautiful and in perfect harmony with the landscape around her.

This part of the story was about the day she met the eyes of her Lord.

A god.

The Champion of the Binders, Master of Larsa.

"How high is the soul of my Lord.

How great is the light of his eyes.

Infinite is the power of his arms,

Deep is the sweetness of his heart."

Verse alternated with prose.

The girl never mentioned her own name or revealed that of the Negus. She said that she had fallen in love at first sight.

The moment the Negus had descended from the heavens and walked toward her among the ears of corn, she had known that she belonged to him.

Shadi let out a deep, evil laugh. "Nonsense, my Lady Promise," she whispered. The poor thing must have fainted from fear at the sight of this impossible creature.

She turned the pages and bit her lower lip.

Her mother probably would reprimand her harshly if she heard her utter such words, interpreting them as a lack of respect for the gods, teachers and her own family.

Shadi sighed, closed the book, and rolled onto her back. She rested her eyes on the large stone blocks that made up the walls and the wooden inlays that decorated the pillars, outlining the octagonal architecture of the tower.

Before her touch, it had been an infinitely desolate place. She caressed one of the many cushions scattered in every corner, ran her eyes over the books she had read, the ones she had not even opened yet, and the ones so old they threatened to crumble under her gaze.

So many books.

So little time.

She wondered if the young woman with the dark hair and large black eyes had cultivated a similar passion. Had she carved out a little island where she felt safe even in winter storms?

She shook her head. No, it was impossible for this girl to have simply fallen in love with a being so far removed from the simple life of ordinary people. Of course, the Masters were strong and very tall. Everyone said that their beauty was touching.

But they were not men.

They were not women.

What kind of love could they give or ask for from people like this girl? Or like Shadi? To her, it seemed absolutely crazy, impossibly stupid. And frightening too. But her parents were ready to embrace the possibility with enthusiasm.

She had stopped being upset about it. A few years ago, when her mother had started dropping hints of engagements and marriages into their conversations, she had reacted with disbelief. Then almost with anger. Anger tempered by the knowledge that one wrong word was reason enough for her to be confined to her quarters. And that meant being separated from this place and its treasures.

Shadi was considered too young for such things, and she knew she was not as beautiful or as spry as her friends. Moreover, her lineage made it unlikely that she would receive invitations to the most prestigious events. Her father was a beloved and respected Lugalen, no one could deny that. But he was not the heir to a noble family, and there were occasions when that shortcoming was used against him without mercy.

Which, according to Shadi, was no bad thing.

A strong gust of wind rattled the shutters of one of the two tall, narrow windows that let in the moonlight. Dried by the frigid wind of the Peaks, the wood groaned and the rusty lock creaked.

Grunting, Shadi got to her feet and walked over to the window. She checked the inside pane, gave the handle a little tug, and looked at the outside shutters. They were struggling a bit, but it did not seem to her that they might give way.

"I'll have to ask someone to check it out," she said in a low voice to make a mental note. Her eyes slid down and filled with the lights coming from the streets.

Large braziers and torches illuminated the entire central part of the walled city. The stone alleys were crowded with stalls and vendors. This frenetic atmosphere would continue for another week or two. Then, as the weather turned colder, the streets would freeze over, preventing merchants from displaying their wares, especially after dark.

Even a town like Jabal Amira, a commercial stronghold in the Peaks, slowed to a crawl in the dead of winter. Shadi pressed her nose to the glass, taking in the streets, the people, the colors. When had she last been allowed to walk those streets?

Years ago?

The more her father's social position rose, the less personal freedom she was allowed.

Shadi bit the inside of her cheek and stifled a groan. She always had her tower and her books. That was enough.

Darjin opened the door just enough to slip in, as she always did. She seemed to be made of shadows, dressed in dark wool with tiny floral patterns and dull leather. Yet her amber skin glowed in the warm light of the fireplace.

She closed the door and clasped her hands behind her back, keeping her torso straight and her legs slightly apart.

Darjin watched the room. She paused at the open book resting on the fur, and then at the now dying flames in the fireplace. "How are the readings going, my lady?"

Shadi smiled at her. "'Wonderfully, Darjin, thank you for asking. So wonderfully, in fact, that I could spend the night here."

"I can imagine. It must be an extraordinary book to have distracted you so much that you neglected the fire," she said, pointing to the fireplace with her chin. "Be careful, my lady. The cold of the Peaks is a treacherous and patient foe."

"You are right, you are right, I will be more careful." Shadi tiptoed over to the carpet, picked up the book and carefully closed it. Then she placed it among the other ancient volumes on the shelves. "Sometimes when I'm in here, I feel like I'm losing touch with reality."

"It is obvious, my lady."

Shadi frowned and turned to Darjin. Her Dagger did not usually address her in this way. It almost seemed like she was being sarcastic.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked, more surprised than upset.

Darjin tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "I could never be, my lady. But you really seem to have lost track of time."

"Yes, that's exactly what I..." The words died on Shadi's lips. She widened her eyes. "That can't be!"

Darjin nodded slowly, as if to say that it could indeed be.

"Today? Is it today? Tonight? I couldn't have forgotten," Shadi said as she ran to pull on a pair of low leather boots. "Oh, my gods! My gods!" She stumbled over her feet as she stood up, and Darjin caught her as quickly as only she could.

"Calm yourself, my lady. Your mother has summoned you, but she's not yet worried about your absence, nor has she started looking for you. You have some time to change and welcome the visitors," she said calmly.

But Shadi was shaking. "What an idiot! What a fool I am! This time she'll rip my lungs out of my chest, I'm sure of it!"

Darjin shook her head, but made no further effort to allay her fears. She grabbed a heavy woolen cloak lying on the cushions to her left and threw it over Shadi's shoulders. Then she dragged her out of the room.

On the other side of the door two Urookite soldiers, her father's men, stood guard.

Darjin turned to them without stopping. "You are dismissed. My lady will not return to the tower tonight."

Shadi followed her down the stairs, her anxiety making her movements unsteady and almost causing her to stumble a few times.

How could she have forgotten? The Asadi family had traveled for days to visit her. And Shadi had waited for this day for months. Still.

She held back tears.

She would rather have fallen down the stairs and broken her neck than endure another rant from her mother.

The descent down the stairs that snaked inside the tower was long. Each step seemed more difficult than the last.

She couldn't believe that she had managed to forget such an important social event. Her parents had never been particularly hospitable; they attended dinners and dances, often traveled to nearby towns, and even visited Urook. But entertaining guests, especially allowing them to stay in the citadel, was a privilege reserved for the few. In a way, perhaps Shadi had hoped to forget this visit.

"I am a coward," she whispered through clenched teeth.

Darjin, who was a few steps ahead of her, stopped and turned, "Excuse me, my lady?"

Shadi shook her head. "Do you know if Norain will be there?" she asked in the completely unfounded hope that luck would come to her aid.

"Lugalen Asadi's daughter? I assume she will be present, as she has been on all the other occasions her family has visited yours."

"Of course, of course. It's quite normal." Shadi inhaled deeply and then exhaled. "We didn't part on the best of terms. The last time she was here, a rift opened up between us. And we haven't written since."

Darjin listened in silence. Although Shadi hadn't shared the details of that unpleasant conversation with her, she was sure that Darjin knew everything.

The Dagger always knew everything.

After a short pause, Darjin cleared her throat and asked: "Should I tell your mother that you are not feeling well? That you stayed in bed nursing a cold?"

"She will discover the truth and become even more angry. Anyway, I don't want to disappoint my father. He knows nothing of this and values Lugalen Asadi's friendship. If I were to miss dinner, he might take it as a sign of disrespect for him and one of the few men in the world he really likes."

"Then we should hurry, my lady."

"Yes, we should." But Shadi still hesitated.

Darjin tilted her head and looked at her sideways. "Actually, it could be a good opportunity."

"A good opportunity? For what?"

Darjin's face, often so serious and distant, showed a faintly conspiratorial hint. She ran a hand over her dark hair, pulled back into a tight bun, and said, "To find a copy of the book you are looking for."

For a moment, Shadi forgot her haste and anxiety. "I'm always looking for a book, Darjin, one way or another."

The Dagger nodded. "But this one has eluded you for months. Almost a year, I think."

"Are you referring to The Guardians of the Golden City?"

"The Asadi family has a very rich private collection. One of the most renowned in all of Kenjir. If there is a place where such a rare book could be kept, then it is their library."

Shadi was well aware of this, but she didn't have the courage to ask Norain, not after what had happened. "It's a good idea, but Norain won't listen to me. Why should she? I was hard on her. If I were her, I don't know if I could forgive a person who spoke to me like that."

Darjin looked pensive. She stared at Shadi as if she was planning something.

"If young Asadi joins us, take it as a good sign. However, she might decide not to attend in order to avoid an encounter with you. So let's see what happens. If she does come, greet her warmly and use the book as a conversation starter. Ask for her help as if nothing had happened, but be prepared to apologize even if you're not sure you're in the wrong."

"Believe me, I feel more than guilty. I'm afraid I've ruined our friendship."

Darjin climbed onto her step and looked down. Although she wasn't an imposing woman, she easily towered over her.

"You will only know the truth if you face it. Remaining in doubt can eat away at your insides. The more you hesitate, the worse it will be. Put it this way," she explained, "if all goes well, the young Asadi will at least agree to listen to you. She may decide to break the silence and resume your relationship. And who knows, she may even have a copy of the book you seek, or know where to find one."

"What if instead..." Shadi did not have the courage to finish the sentence and lowered her eyes.

"Raise your eyes, my lady, please."

Shadi complied.

"If young lady Asadi refuses your offer of peace, then we will remove her private library from the list of places to search for old and valuable books."

Shadi smiled without much conviction. "Then I will have lost her forever."

It was Darjin who sighed. "My lady, we can find anyone, even those who go to great lengths to erase all traces. But we can only keep those who desire our affection." She gestured to the stairs, silently inviting her to descend further.

Shadi nodded.With tearful but grateful eyes, she followed her Dagger.

Shadi's quarters were filled with servants who scurried like wasps between closets, trunks, and sacks of cloth, gathering whatever was needed to clothe her.

Darjin stepped aside and let her in, then closed the door behind them. At the sight of the dark pink silk dress on the bed and the three servants, including the seamstress who had worked for her family for two decades, Shadi's heart clenched.

A corset.

As beautiful as it was uncomfortable, it made it difficult for her to breathe.

'Every woman from a good family has to pay this price,' her mother said. 'Beauty is expensive and painful'.

Her mother seemed to be able to wear clothes that wrapped her body gracefully for hours. And she never complained.

Never.

But every time Shadi dared to so much as exhale a sigh of exasperation, as the boning sewn into her corsets suffocated her, Tiona lashed out at her with harsh words.

The servants all bowed in haste when they saw Shadi enter, and the seamstress, Qestere, rolled her eyes. "May the gods be praised, my young lady, may they be praised infinitely! We were afraid you might not come!" Then she smiled at them, interlacing her fingers impatiently.

"Quick, quick, girls," she said to the other servants, "help our young lady undress, we have so little time left!"

The wave of enthusiasm emanating from the woman, left Shadi feeling overwhelmed, as if someone had left her in the middle of a wheat field and then set a herd of wild horses on her. There were too many people in the room.

Her eyes burned and her breath was short. Instinctively, she turned her gaze to Darjin, who was standing a step behind her.

"I'll stay outside the door. You'll be ready in no time, you'll see," the Dagger said in a low voice before leaving.

Shadi inhaled slowly and tried to hold back a deep tremor. She told herself that she had been lucky. She could have found her mother there, ready to pour out icy, stinging words to underline a deep disappointment.

She often did that, and Shadi hated those moments.

For she was very capable of responding to provocations with words unworthy of a young noblewoman. And she actually hated the person she became when she felt compelled to react bitterly. It was often her own choices that got her into trouble. So she felt no satisfaction in engaging in such s, even if only to defend herself.

Shadi spread her arms wide, closed her eyes, and let the servants take off her nightgown.

Solitude and silence gave her small reassurances.

They represented the absence of conflict.

She could concentrate on the beauty of the dress and see it as a kind of armor.

And the corset, a shield.

By custom at that hour, dinner was long over. The fact that her parents had agreed to set aside their habits for the benefit of their guests was a testament to how eager they were to make a good impression.

Shadi said to herself that it was strange. She felt that this visit was different from the others, although she could not explain exactly why. It was not just a friendship between two high ranking families, no. She shrugged off that subtle feeling and concentrated on not tripping over the hem of her wide skirt. Who was she to question the motives of her parents? They were simply reserved people. Just like she was.

Keeping pace with Darjin, she walked down the corridor that led from the entrance to her quarters to a grand staircase. She let her eyes lazily wander over the stone walls, the tapestries that covered them, and the war scenes they depicted. She rarely lingered on these details. She found them disturbing. And in a way, they clashed with the architecture.

For the fortress of Jabal Amira, from the towering walls outside the citadel where she lived to the array of towers carved into the rock, was austere and imposing. The dark stone of the Peaks had given birth to great blocks, creating sharp joints and angles, cold spaces and deep shadows. It was like that because it represented the last great outpost of the Masters' civilization in the mountains. It had to radiate power. Or so her father said. So why the tapestries? What about the statues, the paintings, the thick carpets?

All far too frivolous choices in her eyes. The Tutors, lords of Urook and all the loyal lands, would not approve, she was sure.

"Are you with me, my lady?" Darjin's voice brought her back to reality.

Shadi had passed the mouth of the stairs and her Dagger was waiting for her with a look somewhere between doubt and concern.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry." Once again, she fixated on such thoughts to keep her fear at bay.

She descended the stairs with Darjin. Below them was a large hallway and tall black wooden doors leading to a courtyard. The cool evening breeze flickered the lamps that illuminated the entrance and the figures of her parents. With their backs to her, they stood erect, elegant and proud, waiting for their guests.

Darjin stopped as they reached the doors. Her hands clasped behind her back, she stood on the threshold and gave Shadi a quiet look. It was her way of silently promising that she would be there, no matter what.

Shadi hesitated for a moment. She caught a glimpse of the approaching carriages, preceded by riders in light leather armor, dark yellow uniforms, and golden iron reinforcements protecting shoulders and joints.

Her father, Leoben, looked over his shoulder. There was a barely hinted question between the lines of his forehead. He motioned for her to join him on his right, opposite where his wife had taken her place. He likely feared Tiona's inability to restrain herself from scolding Shadi in front of everyone.

Shadi appreciated the cleverness but had no illusions. She knew her father was as annoyed by the delay as her mother. However, Tiona likely had a subtler way to point it out.

Shadi stood beside the Lugalen, guardian of Jabal Amira, and tried to pose in a manner worthy of her parents' elegance.

Moments later, the guests arrived.

Lugalen Culm Asadi, his wife Pharah, and their daughter Norain dismounted from carriages at least twice the size of those owned by the Jan Hura family; they were also made of much finer-looking wood, polished like marble and decorated with gold metal inlays.

The Asadi were Larsani, and they seemed to want everyone they encountered outside the capital to know it.

As the three approached, smiling, Shadi could not help but notice the traveling clothes they wore: smooth leather, furs dyed white, gold, and silver-gray. Even the women wore breeches, just like the Lugalen.

It seemed strange to Shadi. She was convinced that only Urookite women, especially from the less noble social classes, had embraced the practicality of these garments.

Lugalen Asadi, a little shorter than her father, completely bald and with the broad shoulders of a consummate warrior, spread his arms wide and hugged his colleague as if he had found a brother.

Shadi watched them and smiled. It was rare to see the man who had raised her indulge in such an outpouring of affection. As far as she knew, her father's friendship with Culm Asadi was entirely sincere, and she was glad that the two of them had not been affected by the fall out between her and Norain.

Even her mother Tiona, always so reserved and calm, raised her hands and intertwined her fingers with Pharah's. The woman looked like a brunette version of her mother. Just as tall and slender, with a dark, glowing complexion and long black hair pulled back over her head in knotted plaits.

Beautiful, radiant on this chilly night, the two women exchanged polite smiles and words.

Shadi bit her lip. She did it again, staring at everything around her, trying to ignore her fear.

Norain.

The young woman walked towards her.

When Shadi saw a smile on her face, it was as if a new moon had lit up the sky above.

She returned the smile and silently prayed that Norain was not just trying to please her parents, that she was truly happy to see her again.

Shadi took a deep breath, took courage, went over to Norain and hugged her.

They held each other for a few moments, but it was a warm exchange. So much so that Shadi found herself blinking quickly to fight back a hint of tears. "Welcome, Norain, welcome," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady despite the knot in her throat.

The young Larsani released the embrace and looked into her eyes. "My friend," she whispered. Seeing that Shadi was about to say more, she shook her head. "Let's not talk about it. Not now."

Shadi nodded, aware that her cheeks were burning and her eyes were wide open, as they always were when emotion overpowered reason. It was a sight Tiona Jan Hura often called pitiful.

Perhaps Norain was driven by the same pity? If so, she did not show it. She turned her eyes to her mother Pharah and answered a question Shadi had not heard: "Of course, Mother, we will be right there."

She took Shadi under her arm and dragged her towards the entrance. "I like your dress. You look good in it. But you should eat more," Norain said as if it had only been a few hours since they had last seen each other.

Shadi allowed herself a laugh that sounded more like a gasp. "And you look as beautiful as ever."

Norain laughed heartily. She resembled her mother: dark complexion, lustrous black hair braided in a cascade that covered her shoulders. But her face showed her father's strong features and broad forehead.

"Don't flatter me, dear. Save the compliments for later. If we survive dinner, that is. How many courses has your mother prepared? Five? Six? Remember the last banquet? On my last visit?" she asked Shadi as they passed the big doors and went up the stairs.

Of course Shadi remembered. That banquet had been the last one she and Norain had enjoyed happily together.

The lightheartedness had vanished a few hours later when Shadi uttered words she bitterly regretted. She still regretted them. Perhaps not even Norain's forgiveness, had it ever come, could have changed that bitterness.

"Actually, there are eight courses. We will enjoy two different desserts tonight."

Norain groaned. "Your mother is cruel. She'll just pick at the dishes placed in front of her and take great offense if we don't eat like longshoremen."

"She just wants to make sure no one at the table wears a corset as casually as she does."

"Cruel and calculating," Norain chuckled.

Shadi asked her about the trip and how she had spent her days on the outskirts of Larsa. Norain was vague, laughed softly, and did not slow her pace. Soon they reached the large dining room on the second floor.

The room was lit by large lamps suspended between the dark stone corridors and high colonnades. A large fireplace cast long shadows behind the tables, chairs, columns, and the guests themselves.

In the center of the room, a table had been set for the six diners, already loaded with fruit sprinkled with spices and brown sugar, cider, hot strips of cheese, and small cups of honey.

Shadi sat to the left of her father at the head of the table. Norain sat in a similar position on the opposite side.

As Shadi had suspected, it was the Lugalens' two wives who dictated the pace of the conversation.

Pharah Asadi graciously allowed Tiona Jan Hura to be the first to report on the state of affairs in Jabal Amira. The hostess spoke of the plentiful hides and furs from her mountain herds, as well as the abundant meat from the same animals. It had been an exceptionally good year.

Not to mention the wine.

"Please, please, taste, my dears," Tiona said, nodding to the servants who hurriedly replaced the used plates with ones laden with strips of smoked meat. A second wave of attendants poured wine for all the guests.

And for Shadi. She was momentarily amazed that she was now allowed to taste it in public, instead of sneaking into a dark pantry with her brother a few times a year. She accepted the glass with the rest of the guests and took a sip that burned her palate and throat.

Tiona was right. It was a special vintage. "Our Blackpeak has an aftertaste of red figs, don't you think? That hasn't happened in decades, has it, my dear?" she asked her husband.

Leoben nodded as he downed half a glass of the dark red liquid in one go. "A rarity."

Lugalen Asadi chuckled, "I never understood where the name came from. Blackpeak. Did you coin it?"

"Oh no, my friend," Shadi's father replied, skewering a strip of well-oiled meat. "The Blackpeak grape is very old. They called it that long before my family climbed the mountains."

That last explanation put Shadi on her toes. It was the kind of word choice that could backfire on her father, for it implied that he was not a native of these mountains. And that there was not a single drop of noble blood in his veins.

The other high-ranking lords who aspired to the seat of Jabal Amira could have used such an admission as a blade and jumped at Leoben Jan Hura's neck without a second thought.

But the Asadi family was Larsani. The power games of a provincial fortress must have seemed as insignificant to them as a few specks of dust on fine clothes. Or perhaps they had chosen to ignore those words out of sincere affection.

Shadi had no way to know.

It was at this very moment that Pharah made sure to point out that it was not only the very good wine that had made the past year so special.

Shadi's hair stood up on the back of her neck as she sensed where this conversation was going. She almost choked on her sip of wine.

The Trials.

"I have heard incredible rumors," Pharah said, tilting her head and casting a conspiratorial glance at Tiona. "It seems that this year's celebrations will be the most amazing in Kenjir's memory. The city is in an uproar. There are architects and builders working day and night. Larsa will never be the same."

Shadi concentrated on the wine. How she wished she could find a way to change the subject. Or suddenly go deaf so as not to hear her parents repeat the same words.

"Have you received an official invitation?" asked Tiona.

Shadi suppressed the urge to give her mother a dirty look. She prayed silently, but without much conviction, that the evening would end quickly.

Her mother seemed to read her mind and fixated on this particular topic as if she wanted to use it to spank her. "Or is it too soon?" she added.

"Definitely yes." Pharah put down her glass and cut into her portion of meat. "No family has received a call from the capital yet, and it looks like it will stay that way for at least another two or three weeks. My friends close to the ziggurat say the selection will be tougher than ever."

"I thought so. I guess it's good after all," Tiona nodded.

"Masters should not be satisfied with mediocrity. We would be honored if one of our beloved Broen, Jathim or Norain received an invitation to the celebrations, to see the Trials," Pharah continued. "But it will always be a gift. A blessing. Nothing in our power could ever change the Masters' judgment. If they decide that our little ones are worthy of their attention, we will obey with the greatest of enthusiasm. But if not, we will accept in silence. May the gods enlighten us," she said, her eyes shining.

Everyone echoed her. "May the gods enlighten us!"

Shadi listened reluctantly to the stories of how the Asadi family had spent months making all the necessary preparations. They had hired tailors, dance and elocution teachers, invested in new carriages and horses. They had almost gone so far as to look for a house closer to the center of the capital.

"Then we recognized that we had gone too far," said the Lugalen. He took his wife Pharah's hand between his own and smiled. "Actually, it was my beloved wife who convinced me to slow down. As she has already explained to you, we must trust the Masters to bestow their mercy. As always."

Shadi wished she could say that her mother Tiona had the same peaceful certainty.

But no, the woman was not like that. She would use every opportunity to make sure that Shadi or Roben, preferably both, were present on that important occasion.

Tiona wanted them to marry well, of course. And the Trials were the perfect opportunity to show off her children.

"My Leoben and I also try not to think too much about the Trials, nor add more anxiety to our lives, which are already so full of challenges and tasks."

Shadi was in danger of bursting into hysterical laughter under the weight of her mother's blatant falsehood. She swallowed more wine and coughed. Her knuckles were pale and almost sore. She met Norain's gaze. The girl looked worried and tilted her head in a silent question.

Shadi shrugged.

The idea that her parents, especially her mother, were such hypocrites and liars was as sad as it was outrageous.

Norain came to her aid, shifting the conversation to other shores. "Jabal Amira is breathtaking even at night," she said, turning first to Leoben, then to Tiona. "I caught a glimpse of the booths, the lights, and heard the music. I would love to take a walk through the narrow streets of the fortress."

Leoben smiled and Tiona beamed with pride. "Of course, my young lady. We will fulfill your wish with all our hearts."

Norain bowed her head briefly. Then she added, "But where is dear Roben? His presence is always so cheerful, he is really missed."

Tiona liked this question. Shadi could tell by the way she looked at Norain and smiled, even with her eyes. Did she consider Norain to be a suitable partner for her eldest son? No doubt. Tiona Jan Hura always weighed all possibilities.

But it was Leoben who explained that Roben was still on the road, returning from the Peaks after weeks of hunting. He might be back any day.

Culm Asadi explained that his two eldest sons, Broen and Jathim, were training with the Golden Army. "Ah, just thinking about it makes me feel so old! I haven't seen Broen for almost a year and Jathim for three months. And I won't see them for at least another four weeks?" he asked, turning to his wife.

Pharah nodded, suddenly on the verge of tears. "Time goes too fast for us parents. One day we hold babies in our arms. Little bundles that spend all their time sucking milk and sleeping. The next day we see them riding war horses or turning into beautiful ladies." She looked at her daughter Norain with loving eyes.

The girl blew her a reverent kiss.

Within moments, the tone of the conversation changed, and Shadi was relieved to find that the meal was over.

The Asadis asked to be excused, and after a final brief exchange of courtesies and pleasantries, they rose to be escorted to the guest rooms.

Before leaving, Norain turned to Shadi.

"Shall we have breakfast together in the morning?"

Shadi hastened to accept. "In my quarters? Like when we were children?" The question was directed more to Tiona than the girl.

The hostess did not seem to like the idea. But she caught Pharah's approving look. So she agreed. "But don't spend the whole day locked up gossiping, mind you." She said it lightly, as if it were a joke.

Shadi knew it was not.

She and her mother had unfinished business. This visit did not change the fact that Tiona trusted her daughter even less than usual and feared that sooner or later, she would do something stupid or end up ruining her family's reputation forever.

"Thank you, Mother. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

The two families wished each other good night, and Shadi found herself alone with her parents.

She sensed that Tiona was about to say something. Something as cold and sharp as a splinter of ice.

But Leoben simply said, "You may go to sleep, my daughter. I leave Norain in your care. Make sure she has a pleasant stay in Jabal Amira. Can you do that for me?"

Shadi bowed. "It will be an honor, Father." Then he turned on his heel and hurried out of the great hall.

When Shadi met Darjin's gaze, hidden between shadows and colonnades, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Have you been there all evening?" she asked the Dagger in a low voice, leaving the hall at a brisk pace.

"Certainly, my lady. It was a pleasant dinner, wasn't it?"

Shadi stifled a sad laugh. "Sitting next to my mother? A nice swim in a frozen lake could be more fun."

Darjin remained silent.

"Thank you for staying close."

"Always, my lady, always."

Sleep eluded her. But at the same time, Shadi knew that she was not fully awake. Her mind sailed through images that could have been memories mixed with daydreams: she revisited the moments when she had embraced Norain and heard her voice again.

Let's not talk about it.

Not now.

In that no-man's-land between waking and dreaming, she wondered if she could do the same, if she could put aside a wrong she had suffered to preserve a friendship.

Probably not.

And she called herself a foolish, childish little girl; the daughter of a man the people of Kenjir considered infinitely rich and powerful. This was not the case, no. Her family's finances were anything but rosy. But growing up in a fortress, sheltered from the hardships of the common people, had she become lazy? Haughty? Spoiled?

Perhaps.

Weariness continued to cloud her mind.

She dreamed of walking through the ruins of a great city. Dark smoke prevented her from seeing the distinctive features of buildings and streets. Aware of the intangible nature of these images, she was not surprised by the lack of heat from distant flames, nor by the fact that she could breathe without coughing violently. Yet those images dug a hole of fear in her chest. Thick, heavy, as if her lungs wanted to turn to stone, restlessness pushing her down.

Shadi curled up in a ball, the weight no longer bearable. There, amidst the cold flames and blackest smoke that enveloped a once golden city, an answer lit up in her mind.

She knew the name of the city, but couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

Shadi let out a soft moan, a hissing sound that brought her closer to wakefulness.

Then the voice.

A growl.

"Who are you? How did you get here?"

And Shadi screamed, unable to comprehend these questions, their origin, and the threat that brushed across her skin.

She awoke struggling and banging her forehead against something hard.

Wood.

There was cold stone against her back, the subtle smell of dust mixed with that of herbs used to scent sheets and blankets.

She was under the bed. How did she get there?

Massaging her head, she sighed in despair and crawled out of her hiding place.

The last traces of a dream still clouded her mind with faint strokes of rapidly fading images.

The fear stayed with her for a few moments. But as she slipped back under the covers, everything suddenly vanished.

Weariness pulled her into the darkness as if she were returning from a very long journey. Sleep suddenly made her close her eyes.