Sábria’s eyes narrowed, “Her eyes were blank when I looked into them. I expected hatred, but there was nothing. She prostrated herself in front of me. My own daughter fell on her face in front of me. What kind of a monster am I that she felt she needed to do that?”

  “Isobel said that judging from the places she’s lived as an adult, Ty has probably never seen a reflection of herself. She wouldn’t recognize you as her mother, and so when Isobel told her your rank, well, in Dreyutha, you know what happens to peasants and slaves who don’t render the proper amount of respect to the nobility.”

  “Ty?” Sábria rested her head on the sofa again. The name echoed through her mind, and she screwed her eyes shut to keep the sound of it out. “I can’t do this, Shirin. I can’t.”

  “Do what?”

  “I can’t be the Voice of the Goddess when I sent my own daughter into the brutal life of a Dreyuthan slave. I’m done, Shirin. It’s over.” She placed her fingers over the blue ring that circled her index finger and stood.

  Shirin rose as well. “You’re not thinking straight right now. We need to get back to the Temple and—” She froze mid-step and became as stiff as a statue. Her eyes were glazed, and her mouth remained half-opened with whatever word she’d been about to utter.

  Sábria stared at her a moment and then turned to find Elyon standing before her. Instead of prostrating herself before her Goddess, Sábria released all of the anger, rage, and frustration she’d kept pent up inside. “I trusted you. You⁠—”

  The hateful words she’d intended to say died in her throat when Elyon’s robes and eyes turned a dangerous, dark, thundercloud grey. It wasn’t simply the color that changed. The robes roiled as though they were, in fact, thunderclouds about to unleash a terrible storm on Sábria’s world. Still seething, Sábria watched the tempest swirling around Elyon and knew what she had to do. She sank to her knees and then prostrated herself in front of her Goddess.

  “Stand.”

  Up until now, Elyon’s voice had always held gentle, pleased overtones full of love for the woman who ruled and protected her people. The discordant, terrifying sound of this one word grated painfully in Sábria’s ears and filled her head with a horrible, rasping echo full of the promise of judgment and censure. The dreadful promise carried in that fearsome voice shook Sábria to the core, and as she rose, she knew that she’d allowed the bitter guilt and grief she’d felt after looking into the slave’s empty eyes to bring her to this perilous juncture in her life. The darkness surrounding the elegant woman standing before her was absolute, and she found she couldn’t, or rather, didn’t dare look into those dark, menacing eyes.

  “You repudiate me?” When Sábria couldn’t speak, Elyon asked a second time. “You turn your face from me?”

  Confusion clouded Sábria’s mind as she flailed about for what to say.

  “Decide. Say the word, and the ring will leave your finger and appear on another woman’s hand. I force no woman to serve me. Say the word Sábria, and your life will be yours again.”

  The idea that the heavy mantle of responsibility she’d worn for so long could be removed was something Sábria had never contemplated. There were times when she was so tired of being set apart, of being the one everyone in the Empire looked to for answers. She was tired now, lost in regret and shame, and the thought of going back to her roots to become a Blade again was tempting, even if it meant she’d serve in some remote Temple far away from the people she loved.

  That thought brought her up short. She loved her people. Loved protecting her Blades and her Shivs. She wasn’t sure she could entrust their safety to anyone else. “Who would serve in my stead?”

  “Decide.”

  The idea that she’d served a Goddess who’d betrayed her rose to the fore, and she found she needed to know. “Did you know my daughter was a slave?”

  “Decide.”

  Covering her face with her hands, Sábria tamped down all her emotions and gradually felt the mantle of rationality settle like a familiar, albeit somewhat threadbare, cloak across her shoulders. She loved her people, but more than that, she loved and adored her Goddess most of all. Tears came to her eyes, and she whispered, “I’ll always choose to serve you, My Lady. Forgive me for letting my doubt and self-hatred for what I subjected my daughter to turn me aside from my duties as your willing servant. But how can I lead your Blades knowing how badly I’ve ruined a life? My own daughter’s life?”

  At the prolonged silence, Sábria lowered her hands and found that the Goddess’s gown was now the purest alabaster Sábria had ever seen, and her eyes had turned a light, snowflake blue.

  Elyon enfolded her in her arms and, with a gentle but firm tone, confirmed Sábria’s worst fears. “Yes, I knew she was a slave, My Heart.” She went on to repeat a truth she’d spoken to every Arch Priestess she’d ever anointed. “But the streams of time that you believe to be linear, I see as swirls and eddies. Some swirls are dark, some light, but most are grey. At times when the blackness is absolute, I intervene. No good could ever come out of the three Kings of Olarna, so I raised up Prya Játhea to change the black to light grey.”

  The concept of the black, white, and grey forces surrounding them was nothing new to Sábria, and the acidic bile of betrayal rose into her throat and nearly choked her. “But you couldn’t change the blackness of my daughter’s slavery? You couldn’t change that black to white?”

  “Her slavery was a dark grey, but never black. Only foolish Gods meddle in the greys.”

  “So my prayers meant nothing? I asked you to watch over her.”

  “And I did.” Elyon narrowed her eyes and cocked her head as she studied Sábria. “No matter how often I’m confronted with the human concept of absolute, I’m still more than a little perplexed by your inability to recognize the non-linear aspect of existence. Has it not occurred to you that perhaps Ty’s experiences strengthened her rather than destroyed the woman you prayed she’d become?”

  At Sábria’s chuff of disbelief, Elyon nodded to herself. “No, I can see you never considered the idea. You don’t know her, and yet you assign a blackness to her existence. You’re usually better at seeing the greys, My Heart. Take the time to see them in your daughter.”

  Tears filled Sábria’s eyes. “But why didn’t you stop them from taking her? Why couldn’t you tell Lady Sandrin to give her to someone else?”

  Elyon looked deeply into Sábria’s eyes. “Because you were a fifteen-turn child who gave birth to an unwanted baby, the same as thousands of other young women in Cibía. I don’t alter the unpleasant experiences of every newborn because then I’d be nothing more than a tyrant ordering the lives of my people. I created the Blades to be a force for good against the darker forces that inhabit your world. You are my swords of justice and revenge.”

  “But I prayed to you. I asked you to watch over her. You could have told me she was a slave.”

  “To what end? By the time they sold her, you were a shiv about to become a Blade. Would you have forsaken your vows and gone searching the kingdoms for one lost child?”

  Sábria’s confusion had her taking a step back. Would she have forsaken her vows to her Goddess? If she answered yes, Elyon would know the truth, that the woman she would eventually choose as her Arch Priestess would have scoured the ends of the earth to rescue her daughter from the grim and shameful fate awaiting her.

  As always, Elyon knew her thoughts. She placed a comforting hand beneath Sábria’s chin. “If I had told you, you would have had a decision to make. If you had forsaken your vows, all of the good you’ve accomplished as my Arch Priestess would have disappeared. All of the light you’ve brought to the lives you’ve touched would be nothing more than circling wisps of what might have been. That one decision most probably renders Prya Játhea dead by her own hand. If not for your wisdom and guidance, who knows which path would have claimed our shiv, Ailith? Her black eddies far outnumbered the greys.”

  Her eyes softened, “Trust me, My heart. Trust that I see possibilities where you see only darkness.” Elyon lowered her hands and stepped away. “So, now, the two of us stand at a crossroads. I give you your freedom. If you choose to leave, if you still feel I’ve betrayed you, I’ll release you out of love instead of anger.”

  With the chaos of the last day catching up to her, Sábria felt an overwhelming tiredness creep into her bones. Shaking her head, she stepped into the arms of her Goddess and rested her head on her chest. “No, what’s done is done. But what do I do? She’ll despise me when she realizes who I am. She can’t stay at the Temple. Everyone who sees her will know what I did, and they’ll despise me, too.”

  “You’ve never been afraid of the future, My Heart. There are so many possibilities of what might come that assigning one outcome over another is madness. Even my vision of what’s on the horizon for humankind is limited. You’re strong, wise, and loving. Be who you are and afford your daughter the courtesy of being allowed to do the same.” With a final, gentle kiss on her forehead, her Goddess was gone.

  Shirin unfroze and continued walking to the door, “—we’ll handle whatever comes together.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Sábria had been seated moments before. She blinked several times when she realized Sábria was now standing a few paces away. Pushing aside her confusion, she stepped over and rested her hands on Sábria’s shoulders. “Please don’t try to deal with your problems on your own, Sábria. Don’t shut me out.”

  Shirin hadn’t heard her conversation with Elyon, and the side of Sábria’s lip curved up slightly. “You’re right, of course. I’m being foolish and allowed my runaway emotions to get the better of me.” She rested her hand on Shirin’s arm. “Forgive me, my friend.”

  Shirin returned her half-smile, “You mean you’re human?”

  Sadness shone from Sábria’s eyes. “Only too human, I’m afraid. I’m frightened, Shirin.” She glanced down and then raised her gaze to look deeply into Shirin’s eyes. “Terrified, if I’m to be honest. I can’t face her yet. Maybe over time, but for now⁠—”

  Shirin cocked her head. Sábria’s anger and rejection of Elyon was uppermost on her mind. “You can’t face the Goddess?”

  Once again realizing the question stemmed from the fact that Elyon had frozen Shirin in a moment in time, Sábria schooled her initial surprise at the question. “I misplaced my anger at myself onto Elyon, and I’m sorry you had to witness my petulant display of childish temper. I love our Goddess with all my heart, and you were right to point out that sometimes, in her wisdom, her answer to our prayers is, at times, no. I’m so blessed to have someone by my side who isn’t afraid to correct me when you see me at my worst.”

  Shirin guided Sábria back to the sofa and motioned for her to sit. When they were seated with their knees touching, Shirin put a hand on her friend’s thigh and stared deeply into her eyes, wanting to understand what Sábria was saying. “Then, if it’s not the Goddess, it has to be that you’re terrified of seeing Ty. Can you tell me why?”

  “Because I abandoned her to a life of slavery.”

  Not wanting to give an off-the-cuff response, Shirin thought a moment before answering. “When Jenx was feeling so guilt-ridden over Maeira’s death, what did you tell her?”

  Sábria pursed her lips and shook her head. “This is different.”

  “Is it? Humor me. What did you tell her?” The room was silent, and when Sábria didn’t respond, Shirin squeezed her thigh. “Sábria?”

  With a sigh, Sábria rubbed her tired eyes before acknowledging Shirin’s point. “I told her the only one responsible for Maeira’s death was the man who embedded his sword in her temple.”

  “Did you sell Ty into slavery?”

  Anger sparked, and Sábria answered with more bite than intended, “I’m not a child, Shirin, so don’t ply me with platitudes you’d tell to a youngling.”

  There were times when Shirin’s experiences as a princess of Tuviste allowed her to address Sábria in the same way royalty would address an errant noble. She let a mixture of anger and disappointment color her words. “Jenx is no youngling, and neither are you. You’re avoiding my logic because you’d rather stew in your guilt than accept the facts.” She pointed to the wall, “That woman out there sold an infant who’d been entrusted with her care into slavery, not you.”

  Unfortunately, Sábria knew what Shirin was doing and why. An amused glimmer shone in her sapphire eyes. “Is that the Princess scolding her Arch Priestess?”

  Shirin playfully lifted her chin in a perfect imitation of a haughty royal. “It is.”

  Sábria sighed, leaned back on the sofa, and interlaced her fingers on the top of her head. She stared at the ceiling and allowed her thoughts to touch on her deepest fear. “I…I’m afraid she’ll despise me.”

  “Is that a new feeling or something you’ve been living with all these turns?”

  “I’ve been able to put it out of my mind thinking I’d never see her again, or if I did, we wouldn’t know one another. But seeing her was like looking into a mirror of my younger self. I knew instantly, even if she didn’t. I guess I want her to leave so I can go back into hiding again, and she’ll never know, and I’ll never have to deal with her anger and accusations.” Nausea rose in her gut, and she gritted her teeth to keep the bile from rising in her throat.

  It was a confusing combination of nausea and resentment that clouded her mind. She resented Isobel thinking she had a right to bring Ty back into her life. How dare she assume Ty wanted anything to do with her? Never mind the innocence she sensed in the woman. Had Isobel sensed that as well? It was as though Ty’s mind was a blank slate to be written on by whoever held her leash at the time.

  But from what she’d read, that was a common trait among Dreyuthan slaves. Especially ones bought as infants or young children. They were trained not to think for themselves. No, it was more than that. They were brainwashed into denying that any “self” existed apart from their master’s wishes. “Shirin. Whoever Ty was supposed to become is lost. There’s nothing inside but empty obedience. How can I deal with that? If I say, ‘Hold this sword,’ she’ll hold it until I tell her to put it down. They use brutal methods to empty their slaves and fill them with whatever pleases them at the moment. How do I interact with her and not dictate who she’s to become?”

  With an affectionate smile, Shirin took Sábria’s hand in both of hers. “Well, there are two salient facts I need to point out. One. The fact that you’re even concerned about such a thing is answer enough. And two. I’ve never believed that a slave owner could completely wipe out the personality of their slaves. We’re all human, Sábria. We all have hopes and dreams, desires and fears. I believe that while those emotions may be buried deeply in Ty’s soul, they’re still there. And If we allow her to live among the Blades, to finally blossom into the person she was meant to be, then hopefully, she’ll become a happy, healthy woman in her own right. She might never become a Blade, and I think that’s okay.” She lifted a questioning brow, “Right?”

  “Of course. I don’t care what she decides to do with her life, but…why would we want her living within the Temple?”

  The concern Shirin felt at that question was written in the lowered brows that covered a pair of confused, worried eyes. Sábria hadn’t yet regained her equilibrium if she didn’t realize the ramifications of what she’d just proposed. “You just said she’s an empty slate. Do you think it’s a good idea to send her out into the world to fend for herself? Not to mention the fact that she’s never had to find work or pay for lodging. It would be like sending a sheep to the slaughter.”

  Sábria bent forward and put her head in her hands. “Goddess, Shirin. She has me so off-balance those things never even occurred to me. Of course, we’ll welcome her. And…I’ll just have to deal with people coming to understand that I’m not the all-knowing, perfect Arch Priestess they’ve come to know and trust.” Shirin’s snort of laughter had Sábria sitting up to stare. She couldn’t help but grin at the amusement shining in her friend’s eyes. “What?”

  “I have no clue how you think Marne sees you as all-knowing and perfect. Seriously, Sábria, your Blades are mature, battle-hardened women who don’t have pie-in-the-sky illusions about any of us. Sure, maybe some of the shivs and younger Blades idolize you, but those of us who have lived with you for turns hardly believe you’re perfect. Yes, we respect you, and most of us even love you, but perfect?”

  Sábria’s grin widened into an actual chuckle. “Ouch. There goes any little bit of ego I might have retained after this fiasco.”

  Seeing that Sábria’s mood had lifted somewhat, Shirin thought this might be a good opening for her to get them back on the road to the Temple. She stood and held out her hand. When Sábria took it, they walked to the door and paused. Shirin turned to inspect Sábria’s tunic and tugged on the hem to settle it into place. She picked up Sábria’s sword from where it had fallen, slipped it into its scabbard, and then pulled the door open.

  Geller stood in the rest position with her back to the door, and when it opened, she stepped to the side and came to attention.

  Sábria walked into the middle of the yard and glanced to where Ailith and Killian waited with the three people who’d destroyed her daughter’s life. Ailith averted her gaze, apparently unable to look her in the eyes. A wave of guilt washed over Sábria, but before she had too much time to think about her shiv’s response, a blue cloud rose from the ground and enveloped the older woman. Not the yellow of justice, as Sábria would have thought, but blue for revenge. Her Goddess was sending a very pointed message.

  Both Ailith and Killian jumped away just as the woman’s eyes grew wide with terror. She grabbed her throat and extended a hand toward Sábria, apparently expecting her to appeal to Elyon to grant her mercy. The swirling blue wisps circled in an upward spiral, starting at the woman’s feet, circling her body several times, and ending in an ever-tightening spiral around her head and neck.