Page 6

Norain took a bite of sweet bread, covered with honey and small dates. She giggled, trying not to stain the fine yellow tunic woven with gold threads and tiny white beads, and the wide white skirt she struggled to hold between the arms of the chair.

"My mother will not admit it even under torture, but I think your cooks are better than ours, Shadi Jan Hura."

The morning light was cold, almost piercing. It poured into Shadi's quarters through large windows, casting distinct shadows on the desk where she studied. Between them was a low table, covered with freshly baked bread; milk and sweet cheese, still warm, their aroma filled the room.

Shadi did not dare to confirm Norain's suspicion; that would have been impolite. "Sooner or later I'll have to test your word. I was too young the last time. To be honest, I have very few memories of your home."

"You are right." Norain poured hot milk into a glass and drank some. "I don't understand why Tiona is so in love with this fortress. It is imposing and I recognize its importance, don't get me wrong. And the view is spectacular. But you should travel more. Kenjir is full of wonders. Not to mention the fact that your family surely knows how to use the new connections from a political point of view, I'm sure," she continued with her usual nonchalance.

Shadi was relieved to see that the girl had not lost her habit of saying everything she thought, anytime, without thinking too much about the consequences. Especially after months of silence.

"I think it's a good way to keep everything under control," Shadi thought aloud. "Here she can dictate the rules."

"True. Travel exposes us to many unforeseen circumstances. Yes, Pharah used to be like that. My father changed her mind in time," Norain sighed.

Shadi felt on edge every time they called their mothers by their first names during these conversations. This small act of rebellion could cost them both dearly if discovered. It was fun to refer to the two matriarchs as if they were just women and not the wives of two powerful Lugalens. They continued to munch on dried fruit, drink milk and herbal infusions, exchanging pleasantries about the bad weather that had slowed Norain's journey, and news of their respective brothers.

The way Norain looked away when Roben was mentioned was strange.

Shadi did not want to dwell on that detail. This intimate moment had to be used to settle the dispute that had kept them apart for so long.

"Norain, I owe you an apology. No, please, I have to do this," she said, raising her hand.

Norain nodded and took a bite.

Shadi caught her breath and let it out as she spoke. The words flowed with the air, a small stream that had been painfully held back for months.

"This whole discussion about the Trials is difficult for me." She hesitated. It was the first time she could talk about that event in a completely honest way without feeling overwhelmed by her mother's cold stare. "I barely understand it. I mean, I know every parent wants their children to have a good marriage. The desire to find someone who deserves us and can take care of us. That's clear, yes. But the Trials are something else entirely. They ask us to do things that don't make sense to me."

Norain swallowed the last bite, drank more brew, and folded her hands in her lap, waiting.

I don't think I can do it. Even if an official call came, I'm not sure I could join. I'd embarrass them all: my mother, my father, and even Roben. I can barely speak in public, let alone to one of them." Her last word slipped out in a whisper.

Norain pressed her lips into a thin line. Rarely had she been so serious. "The Masters. You are afraid of them. Because they are not like us. Because they are gods and children of gods." She freed her fingers from the tangle in her lap and slowly smoothed her skirt. "We fear them deeply. We venerate them, follow their commands, and adhere to their laws. We bask in their protection. The riches that envelop us stem from their power. Yet, we do not truly grasp their nature. If we did, we would be gods ourselves."

Shadi listened to Norain and was surprised to hear a different tone of voice than her friend usually used. It made her seem more mature.

"Perhaps ignorance is the small price we have to pay for our way of life. On the other hand, young men and women who marry Masters seem to lead happy lives. We have never heard of such a union being less than prosperous."

"We've never heard of it, exactly."

Norain looked at her sideways. "Do you think they keep us in the dark on purpose?"

"Perhaps it would be too much for us. The Masters live hundreds of years longer than we do. They control the forces of nature. Every day they perform deeds that we cannot even imagine. I wonder how we can even think of sharing a life with such beings."

Norain leaned to the side and rested her elbow on the armrest. She looked at the panorama of the Peaks outside the windows.

"I understand you, Shadi. Even if you don't believe me."

Shadi searched for the words to disagree, but remained silent. Norain was right. Their relationship had soured precisely because of a lack of trust.

"You believe that men and women who are enthusiastic about the idea of participating in the Trials are driven by ambition. You expressed this with infinite clarity, if I remember correctly." The girl's words were blackened by the memory of their last discussion.

‘ Ambitious. You are too ambitious. And hypocritical like everyone else.’

Shadi shuddered at the thought of having spoken those words to Norain.

"And I'll tell you what," Norain continued, her gaze fixed on the vista, "you're probably right, for the most part. Even though I didn't admit it a while ago. But the truth is, there are boys and girls who know they have no choice. They have to participate because their families demand it." She looked at Shadi again, as if she wanted to say much more.

Shadi held her breath.

"Then there are others who believe they are acting for the good of Kenjir. By marrying the Masters, they help create alliances and solidify the peace. There are dozens and dozens of different reasons why our peers might decide they want to be a part of the celebrations and pursue a prestigious marriage." She stared at Shadi intently. "But you have chosen to pass judgment as if all those justifications did not exist."

"Norain, I..."

"Don't make it harder for me to forgive you, my friend. I have already decided to put what you said behind me. Don't bring those words back to my mind. Believe me, it is not a question of generosity. It's just that my circumstances and those of my family have changed."

Shadi frowned, sensing that Norain was struggling with the subject, but also needed to confront it.

"I was obsessed with the Trials. Obsessed with the idea of celebrating, jumping from party to party, event to event, surrounded by my friends and maybe even the Masters. This is the truth. I was only seeing a small part of the big picture. But I told myself that in the end I was just pleasing my parents. Obeying their orders. All nonsense. I just wanted to run away from home." Norian shrugged. "So maybe you were right when you yelled at me for acting like a fool."

"No. No, it's not for me to judge. You said yourself it was wrong to question your motives. It wasn't my place, that's all."

"You're right again," Norain laughed quietly. Now she had tears in her eyes. "Especially because my motives have shifted. I am now the one who must find a rich and influential suitor during these celebrations. Or my family will sink into very, very dark waters." She lowered her eyes and twisted her fingers.

"I held a grudge against you, Shadi, because you could see through me. You saw what I filled my head with, you saw the person I would become. And I hated what you knew." A tear ran down her cheek. "A poor idiot who only wanted to be a tool. Trading goods to keep my people from going bankrupt."

Shadi got out of her chair, leaned over and hugged Norain.

She heard her friend sobbing, moaning softly, "I feel so stupid."

Shadi stroked her hair. She let tear after tear fall on her shoulder, hugging a young woman who had always seemed bright and confident. Now she was feverish, distraught.

Because of the Masters, because of what they represented, and because of what they demanded of all the men, women, and children who worshipped them and could do nothing but obey.

Shadi spent most of the day in her quarters. She could only go out on occasions arranged by her parents. Most of the teachers visited her in the same room where she had breakfasted with Norain. So the only real opportunities to poke her nose out of those rooms were family lunches and dinners, the very rare times they attended social events, and riding lessons.

Shadi had begged her father to let Darjin teach her self-defense. She didn't want to become a warrior, or get bruises, or show off calloused hands. She just wanted to survive if someone attacked her when her Dagger wasn't there.

But Leoben always said that Darjin was only there to watch over her day and night, to ensure the safety of his beloved daughter.

The small library in the tower was a concession that had cost Shadi a veritable marathon of prayers, condescending smiles, promises, and perjury.

She could spend only a few hours a week there, and always under the close supervision of Darjin and at least two of the soldiers who had sworn allegiance to the Jan Hura family. In fact, her small retreat remained more of a goodwill gesture on her father's part. Tiona would leave her daughter to take root in her rooms and stay there until she rotted.

Or until she found a husband.

So the idea of spending the late morning walking the streets of the citadel seemed like a precious gift to Shadi.

She and Norain were accompanied by two soldiers who walked a few steps behind them. Their names were Breni and Torro. The first was tall, with an imposing figure on the verge of middle age, dark hair streaked with gray, and sun-darkened skin that gave him a solemn expression. The second was thinner, almost too much for a soldier, in Shadi's objectively uninformed opinion. Torro had dark brown hair, a sharp face, and inquisitive eyes.

Shadi had said over and over again that Darjin would be more than enough to keep an eye on her and Norain. She did not want the walk to turn into some kind of holy procession. With the two guards at their heels, they could end up attracting a lot more attention.

But Leoben and Tiona were adamant.

Darjin was further ahead, hidden between a pillar and the next curve. She watched the path for threats. As always. The way she could avoid distracted eyes was extraordinary, proof that the Daggers' fame was more than well-founded.

Shadi walked down the narrow, stone-paved street beside Norain. On this day, she had decided to wear colors similar to her friend's: white, pale yellow, silver trim. There was barely room for the two of them and their wide skirts.

She pointed to the end of the street, "The stalls are that way."

Norain clapped her hands, happy as a child. "I never really paid attention to this part of the citadel," she said shortly after, her voice a little surprised and a little brooding, "maybe because they always kept us locked up in your quarters. This place is really, really old."

As the sound of their footsteps echoed off the stone and rose up the walls that towered as far as the eye could see, Shadi was glad to be able to talk about a subject she knew well.

"Ah Jabal Amira as a whole is a mixture of architecture from different eras. The further you get from the citadel, the more recent the buildings. Outside the walls, it would be hard to distinguish the streets and houses from those of any other mountain town. This is what my teachers say. Some of them have traveled far. This way," she said as she turned right.

The stone corridor gradually widened and the street sloped downward. Buildings now had wide wooden gates and stained-glass windows protected by thin bars molded into floral patterns.

"But the citadel and other structures like it," she continued, pointing to the stone buildings leaning against each other, "mostly date back to the same historical period. Back then, the fortress was just a fortress, and the outer walls did not exist. There was only a small circle of them nearby. We will cross it in a moment. The structure was used to demarcate the territory and symbolized the end of the Masters' rule over Kenjir. From here on, there were only inhospitable lands. Some believed they were cursed.

"The lands beyond the peaks," Norain nodded. "How long was it before the people of Kenjir discovered that there was life beyond the mountains?"

"Hundreds of years, probably. Long, long after the fortress was built. In any case, it is as if the Masters foresaw the need to protect their people. It seems that the first encounters with the peoples beyond the Peaks were bloody, to say the least."

They reached a small square, dominated by a fountain, where a statue of the Lord of the Tutors, King Zayr, stood. A suit of armor covered his entire body, and he held a ceremonial staff in his right hand. Crystal clear water gushed from the tip of the weapon.

"Do you smell it?" asked Norain, lifting her nose like a bloodhound. Then she scanned the stalls on the opposite side of the square. "Biscuits, Shadi!" she chuckled and ran after the smell of toasted sugar.

Shadi hurried to keep up. The cool morning air stung her cheeks and throat. Norain's soft laughter reminded her of distant years when everything seemed simpler: food, clothing, even the love of her parents. When there were no responsibilities to weigh on her mind.

The two soldiers cursed in low voices, amazed at Norain's vitality, and ran after the girls, stopping at a reasonable distance to allow them to observe the wares and buy what they wanted.

Norain had two bags filled with seeds marinated in lemon and honey, small dried berries, and figs baked with ginger and cinnamon.

Shadi blushed when she saw the way the vendor, a tall young man with brown hair and dark eyes, looked at Norain.

"Will I regret tasting your seeds, sir?" chirped Norain. She blinked and looked at him sideways.

Shadi begged the stones beneath her feet to give way, to open a chasm and swallow her alive. She could imagine the look of disdain Tiona would give her if she saw her anywhere near such a scene.

The salesman smiled, showing straight white teeth. There was a strange mixture of childish curiosity and utterly mature desire in his eyes. "Never! I place my good name and the honor of my entire family in your hands, my lady! My sweet seeds will warm your palate and your heart," he replied. The last sentence was spoken in a low voice. A promise, in a way.

Norain nodded and took a handful of seeds to her mouth. She munched them slowly, never taking her eyes off the young man. "You were not lying." She slipped a hand through the folds of her skirt and pulled out coins, placing them on the merchant's hand. "I will remember these seeds, sir."

"And I will remember you, my lady. Forever."

Norain laughed at the dreamy look he gave her. But she returned it with a glance that was hard to misunderstand. Then she walked over to Shadi, grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her away, still giggling.

"The gods have been generous with us! They have given us the sweetest visions in the best year ever!" said the vendor behind them, his voice full and warm, as if one of the Masters had given him a vision.

Shadi turned to him.

"After years of poor harvests, our vines are producing the most delicious wine in Kenjir. And today our eyes are filled with the proudest beauty imaginable." Two boys approached the vendor. Servants, probably, or merchants themselves. They watched Norain and Shadi with curiosity, smiling at their friend's praise.

"Celebrate with us, my young ladies!" he continued. "Tonight the last barrels of Blackpeak will be sold and the streets will be filled with music and happy people. Bless us once again with your beauty!"

Shadi marveled at the young man's insolence.

Breni and Torro seemed ready to silence him. As they placed their hands on the handles of their blades, Shadi stepped forward and commanded in a low but firm voice, "No, no. Let it go. My guest and I don't want to linger."

The two soldiers turned sharply at her order, but obeyed.

Norain, however, did not respond to this heartfelt invitation. She just looked at the merchant and smiled. Then she returned to drag Shadi away. "My gods, what a hunk!" She seemed to find the whole situation outrageously funny.

"Norain!"

"Yes?"

"That guy could hear you! Surely the soldiers accompanying us have picked up on your appreciation!" Shadi said, glancing behind them.

Breni had a distant look, but seemed to carefully avoid meeting Shadi's eyes. Whereas, Torro sneered as if someone had whispered a dirty joke to him.

"Oh, what do I care? The big boy deserves more than a few coins. Do you think there's any way I can have him delivered right to my room tonight?"

"Norain!"

"Just kidding, my friend." Norain almost choked, laughing and spitting out small pieces of seed.

It was Shadi who quickened her pace for once. With her cheeks still burning, she could not help but be infected by the carefree laughter of her newfound friend.

Shadi tried to make their excursion through the streets of the city more subdued.

During the whole exchange between Norain and the vendor, she had suffered a deep and piercing embarrassment. She felt as if Tiona's oppressive gaze was upon her, even though there were thick stone walls between them. And she hated that feeling; it was hard for her to shake it away.

But Norain was funny. The way she seemed to disregard the conventions and customs that governed the lives of young women like her was fascinating.

With a sigh, Shadi led the way through streets that grew wider and wider, crowded and full of stalls. There were sellers of cloth and furs, jewelry and carvings, animals and food of all kinds. And then there was grain and meat, already cut and displayed on wide wooden counters.

Norain watched everything with curiosity, slowing her pace a few times to rest her fingers on some fabric that was brighter than others, or on beads of colors she had never seen before. For the rest of her walk, she continued to nibble on seeds and smile at the crowd as they moved aside to clear the way.

"These are the original walls of the citadel. The ones I was telling you about earlier," Shadi explained as she lifted her chin toward a high arch that connected two imposing buildings. Large segments of stone from the Peaks were visible on the outside of the arch.

"Over hundreds of years, the structures inside and outside the inner walls eventually merged. As a result, there are dozens and dozens of buildings that literally rest on what were once the boundaries of the citadel. And the palaces themselves are connected by ancient Watchtowers, passageways and staircases that branch off the old walls."

Norain listened carefully. "It almost looks like a labyrinth of rock."

Shadi nodded. "Indeed, there are many stories of hidden paths and secret passages carved into the rock of the inner walls. It's all very strange, but I wouldn't want to be here at night." This thought made her remember Darjin's advice. So she decided it was time for her to be the bold one, just a little, and asked Norain, "Some of the most curious stories about Jabal Amira are found in an old book called The Guardians of the Golden City. Apparently it's very hard to get hold of. Have you ever read it?"

Norain scratched her nose doubtfully. "The title is not new to me, but no, I think not. I will personally look for it when I get home. Even if I don't find it in our family’s collection, I'm sure one of my mother's friends has a copy. We will dig up that book, my friend, I promise. I'm glad to see that your passions have not faded."

"Are you talking about reading?"

"Yes, of course. In these months I have crossed paths with many of our kind. Daughters of Lugalens, Ensins, and merchants of the Covenant Guild. I hardly recognized some of them. As soon as they were old enough to receive an invitation..." she shook her head gently, then turned to look at Shadi.

"I almost said something very foolish. I was about to accuse those girls with words all too similar to those that caused our separation." She took Shadi's hands and squeezed them tightly. "Let's not make the same mistake again, my friend. Let's not let circumstances dictate our friendship."

Shadi wondered if there were words to describe what she felt. That she agreed with her and was exceedingly grateful.

She just hugged Norain tightly.

Shadi dismissed the servants who had helped her undo the dress she had worn to dinner and loosen the topknot that had trapped her hair.

She sat on the edge of the bed and shifted her shoulders to ease the tension. After a full day in Norain's company, she felt exhausted. She was not used to spending so much time with anyone other than a member of her family or her teachers. And although her friend's presence was more than welcome, it remained a monumental departure from Shadi's habits.

Shadi did not handle this kind of change well. In fact, she did not handle any kind of change well.

She knotted the silk laces at the collar of a pale nightgown and stood. Just as she turned back the blankets, furs and sheet, a knock came at the door. With her heart beating a little faster and a smile on her lips, Shadi tiptoed through the bedroom, crossed the small living room where breakfast had been shared with Norain, and reached the door. As she opened it, Roben's handsome face appeared, his eyes shining in the dim light of the hallway. He smiled back at her, spread his arms wide, stepped forward and hugged her, laughing.

"Little sister!"

Shadi groaned in his tight embrace, but could not hold back her laughter as he lifted her off the ground. "Shouldn't you be hunting? What do you hope to catch in the keep, beetles and cockroaches? Or spiders and rats?"

He planted a kiss on her cheek. "I've missed you too, little one," he said, releasing her.

Shadi feigned outrage. "You should be announced if you want to visit a lady of high lineage like me. Look, you've wrinkled all my robes," she said, exaggerating a groan that sounded all too similar to the one Tiona used to give everyone when she was indisposed.

"Oh, forgive me, Your Ladyship!" Roben shut the door with the heel of a boot and bowed deeply. "What an impertinent fool I am. I do not deserve your grace, your indulgence, or your gratitude."

"Gratitude?"

"Exactly. For this," he said, slipping a hand under the jacket. He must have just returned, for he wore his traveling clothes soiled with dust and mud, his thick black hair disheveled, and a beard that had grown for at least a few days.

Yet no one mistook him for a commoner. Confidence radiated from his every movement, and an innate awareness marked his posture. Roben knew he was handsome and from a powerful family. Even the dirt on him seemed almost charming.

He pulled out a small leather pouch. "A gift. But you will not accept it. Not from an unworthy creature like me!" He withdrew his hand and Shadi's eyes widened.

"What have you brought me? Let me see! Now!"