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Sitting on the edge of her bed, Shadi kept her eyes closed as her mother's voice echoed off the stone walls outside her room. The woman was about to burst through the door.

It happened every time she was angry.

Every time she was disappointed.

Every time she heard something that convinced her even more that Shadi was a failure.

As punctual and reliable as the succession of day and night, Tiona's jabs came, overlapping with the heavy squeak of the big door opening.

"I knew I would regret it. I was sure of it, may the gods be my witnesses," Tiona said. She masterfully controlled her voice. She did not need to shout to make it sound aggressive or sharp, to leave deep wounds in Shadi's soul.

"But I wanted to listen to your father. He begged me, you know? To give you another chance with Norain. He, a Lugalen, loved and respected by all, had to beg his wife to be merciful to a daughter who deserved to be punished in an exemplary manner." She lowered her voice to a hiss.

Shadi gasped as she heard the door slam against the frame.

"Open your eyes, Shadi. Look at me. I'm talking to you," Tiona ordered.

Shadi obeyed.

Her mother was standing in front of her, a few steps away from the bed. She wore a nightgown woven of dark red threads, as wide as clouds at sunset; it contrasted depressingly with her snow-white skin and blond hair.

When Tiona spoke again, Shadi felt an icy breath on her skin.

"Did you think we didn't know about your fight with the daughter of our best friends? That your lack of temperament would simply go unnoticed?" she continued, raising her chin proudly. "Silly, very silly of you."

Tiona smoothed her robes and then clasped her hands over her stomach. She became as still as a statue as she watched Shadi.

"Your father hoped that you would be respectful enough, wise enough, to mend your relationship with Norain. That by spending more time with her you would somehow prove wise. But he was wrong. And I, unfortunately, was right again."

Just over an hour earlier, Shadi had stood in the middle of the streets of Jabal Amira, on the edge of the most monumental display of violence she had ever seen.

She was just trying to do the right thing.

Just trying to help her friend.

But now her mother blamed her. How could she? Yet Shadi knew how foolish it would be to try to defend herself. Tiona had already made the decision. The fact that she was alone meant that she was only going to pronounce the sentence.

Where was Shadi's father? Perhaps he wanted to avoid a diplomatic incident. Knowing him, he would have taken the blame for allowing one of his men to escort Norain out of her quarters in the middle of the night.

"You cover us with ridicule. Instead of rushing to tell us what happened, whatever happened, you decided to go your own way. You even convinced your brother to support you. Oh, poor Roben." Tiona ran the back of one hand over her forehead. "Get up. Come," she ordered, walking to the large window to her right. She pushed aside the curtains and pointed to the night view.

Shadi obeyed, moving slowly, trying to control the trembling that threatened to trip her on the thick carpets. She followed her mother's gaze and widened her eyes as she understood.

The seventh tower.

The window on the top floor shone.

Her little private library, her sanctuary. Someone was feeding the fireplace until the flames swelled like never before. Dark, thick smoke poured out of the chimney that protruded from the roof.

"Your brother almost died because of you. And what should be your best friend is as drunk as the worst scullery maid, willing to sell herself for an extra sip," Tiona whispered.

Shadi held back tears, pressed her lips together and clenched her hands into painful fists.

Her books, set on fire.

"We had plans for them. If you had paid more attention, if you had cared about anything beyond your own foolish interests, you would have realized that Roben and Norain were meant to be together. Our families were about to form an unbreakable bond." Tiona sighed. "Instead, look how our friendship must end. With a young man stabbed nearly to death and a girl covered in shame."

Tiona grabbed Shadi's chin and forced her to turn around. Long, perfect nails dug into her cheeks.

"Weep for your books if you wish, little one. I hope the ashes of the library blacken your soul enough to make you realize how wrong you are. How dangerous you are. How deeply you must change if you are to be worthy of this family's respect."

Tiona let go of her chin, turned and headed for the exit. She flung the door wide open. "If your brother does not recover quickly and completely, or if he is forced to pay the consequences for what happened tonight, your burning books will only be the beginning, my dear. I will make your life a living hell, I promise."

And with that she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Shadi trembled and fell to her knees.

The glow of the burning books created thin, warm strips of light that danced in her room.

Pain, anger and fear turned to sobs.

The thick leather satchel, decorated with paisley and floral patterns, was heavy, more so than Darjin had imagined. She clutched it to her chest as she walked through the stone corridors leading to Shadi's quarters; they were as quiet as ever, lit by a few narrow, tall windows carved into the thickest walls she had ever seen. It had been difficult for her to adjust to the scale of the fortress, from the outer walls to the citadel, so different from the place where she had grown up.

At first she had felt oppressed. But her duties had kept her busy, and little by little, Jabal Amira had become familiar to her. And though she was glad to have grown up elsewhere, free to breathe fresh air and watch the sky without difficulty, she could now appreciate the sense of protection those imposing walls provided.

She wished she could have shared this acceptance with Shadi. To help her understand how foolish it had been to confront her mother's caustic attitude, to show her how to choose the path of diplomacy.

She glided across the carpets leading to Shadi's quarters, her mind preoccupied with recent events: the arrival of the Asadi family, Norain's nighttime escape, the fight that had injured Roben, and Torro's confession. The conversation weighed heavily on her, a constant reminder of her failure. She struggled to accept that she had allowed a member of the Jan Hura family to come so perilously close to an ignominious death.

The matter was now in the hands of brigade commander Sperian, and there was little she could do while he and his men continued the investigation.

But the shame remained. Darjin sighed, shook her head, and paused, resting a hand on the cold stone wall. She remembered the look of disappointment and anger in Constable Jan Hura's eyes when she had reported to him. He was ashamed too, Darjin was sure; it was one of his men who had stabbed Roben.

Darjin took a deep breath and straightened up. Torro would probably be executed soon. Every time she imagined his death, she felt conflicted. What he had done and how he had acted was hard to forgive.

And the mystery of the drug he had taken grew darker and darker.

She slowed as she approached the door to Shadi's room. An armed guard beckoned when he saw her coming. For Shadi, Jabal Amira was a prison. She did not admit it openly; most of the time she held on to her fears, entrenched in her silence and between the pages of books.

But the library no longer existed.

Shadi's books were gone, burned one by one by an angry mother. After that, it was as if Shadi, along with the small library in the tower, had lost the ability to hide pain, fear, sadness.

Stopping in front of the girl's quarters, Darjin hesitated.

Three days had passed since the Asadi family had hurriedly packed up and left Jabal Amira.

For three days, the city's best healers remained vigilant, never letting Roben out of their site, and tending to his injuries. During that time, Shadi barely closed her eyes and refused to eat.

Darjin nodded and the guard opened the door.

The windows were closed, the curtains drawn, and the room smelled stale. Darjin placed the bag on the breakfast table and then opened the shutters wide. She walked past the archway that connected the living room to the bedroom and without hesitation opened the window near the bed.

Shadi groaned as if she had been pinched.

"It's afternoon, my lady. A truly beautiful day. You don't want it to pass you by without a glance, do you?"

The girl did not answer, and Darjin moved to the side of the bed. "My lady, I have something to show you."

"Leave me alone." Shadi's voice came to her, muffled by the mountain of pillows she had buried herself under.

Darjin did not move.

"You're still there, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"And you will stay there until I do as you say."

Darjin did not answer. She grabbed the pillows, one by one, until she uncovered the girl's pale face. Her cheekbones had become more pronounced, heavy shadows darkening her large eyes.

"Get up. You will not regret it."

Shadi covered her face with her right forearm and groaned. But soon she nodded and let herself be helped. She was light on Darjin's arm, unsteady on her legs.

Darjin led her to the breakfast table and sat her down.

Then she undid the ties that held the bag closed.

"For you," she said, pointing to the object that was sticking out a little.

Shadi's eyes widened and she bent down to pull out the book. She touched it as if it were a Sacred Artifact and feared that the power of the gods would burn her.

"The Guardians of the Golden City," she said in a hushed voice, resting the book on her thighs and slowly opening it. She found a handwritten note and lifted it up, shaken by a sob. "Norain sent it. She begs my forgiveness. She says she loves me." Shadi forced herself to speak, holding back tears as she slumped back in her chair.

With her eyes closed, she sighed and smiled, but the tears came anyway.

"Oh Shadi, if you only knew. If you only knew how we are fading away. We are nothing. Foolish and worthless." Shadi swallowed hard, wiped her tears with the back of her hand and looked at Darjin.

"Norain said so that night. When we dragged her away from the battle. I didn't understand what she wanted to tell me. I thought it was just the ramblings of a drunk. Now I think I know." She went back to flipping through the book, caressing the pages.

"We are all fading, no longer ourselves. We have become empty shells, molded by our parents, Ensins and Masters. We are mere tools in their hands. A blade has no desires; a vial of poison nurtures no dreams. Why should we be granted these things?"

Darjin took the book from her hands, placed it on the table, and then knelt beside her. "I see you, my lady. You are here, not fading away. You are simply learning, as we all have. We have faced Kenjir's cruelties and enjoyed its riches. We obey the Masters and are grateful for their protection. In time, we understand what we may desire and how to obtain it. That includes you, even if it doesn't make sense now."

Shadi kept her eyes on the fur rug.

Darjin slowly took her chin and turned her head until their eyes met.

"Even if your parents doubt your motives, they do care about you and your brother. They may not understand you and wish you were different, perhaps because they've forgotten what it means to be young. From what I know, many parents share this common oversight. Be patient with them. Be wise. Do not let misunderstandings create a rift between you and those you love."

Darjin hesitated. The faces of her father, her mother and her big brother appeared in her mind. It was painful. She pushed those memories away. "Roben is strong. He will recover soon. And time will put distance between your family and what happened. Or what they think happened. It doesn't matter, not really. But the more time you spend sunk in that bed, the greater the shadow that night will cast over your family. Remember that each of them loves you in their own way."

Shadi let out a deep, sad laugh. "Even my mother?"

"There must be a heart somewhere in that chest."

Shadi laughed louder, but soon became somber. "Every time I close my eyes, I see terrible things. Nightmares that tear me from my sleep." Now there was a different light in the girl's eyes. A barely contained fever.

"I see a fiery sunset. An ink-black mountain, rocks crumbling beneath my feet. I feel myself falling and then water," she hesitated, covering her eyes with a hand.

"It swallows me, chokes me. Then I jerk awake." She stood abruptly and went to the window. Outside, a sudden snowfall made the cold air glisten. "Let's go to the river, Darjin."

She got up and joined her. "To the river?"

"Yes, to the river. I need it."