“I think we should take a moment to clean up first, though, don’t you?” Sábria slipped out of her robe and stepped down into the built-in bathing pool. It was filled with hot water kept at a constant temperature by a heating system running around the sides of the small pool. It was the only such pool in the Sanctum and, with all the stress felt by whatever woman held the role of Arch Priestess, it was considered a blessing and a privilege of the position. She slid down and pulled her legs in when Isobel joined her.

  Isobel relaxed into her with her back resting against Sábria’s chest. “Oh, this is heaven. Can we just relax in here for a while and go check on them in a bit?”

  The water’s heat moved around her body like a cozy blanket on a chilly Snowmeere day. Sábria sighed and wrapped her arms around Isobel’s chest. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Whatever they’re up to, they’ll still be there when we decide we’ve had enough.” She added a few drops of jasmine oil to the water, stoppered the small glass bottle and set it back on a shelf built into the wall near the tub. With the scent rising in the steam, both women closed their eyes and settled in for a long, relaxing soak.

  CHAPTER 26

  The stables were empty when Sábria and Isobel walked in. There was no one in the office, and the stall Ghost slept in was empty, too. Sábria was happy to see that Terro had provided her with a cot and several warm blankets, which were laid out in a surprisingly neat and orderly fashion.

  Beyond the rows of indoor stalls were several larger paddocks where small numbers of horses were stabled together to foster more of a herd mentality than is typically found in individual stalls. They passed these and came to the first of four large round pens used for training horses.

  Terro and Kemi were standing on the bottom rail and resting their hands on the top, while Ailith had the top rail beneath her armpits and was leaning in, watching the proceedings with interest.

  Sábria climbed up next to Kemi while Isobel chose a spot on the far side of Terro. Sábria didn’t need to ask what was happening as both Ty and Ghost were standing in the center of the pen with Adaeyfur, the black gelding Lord Durmand had given to Ghost, trotting in circles around the circumference of the pen. Ghost held a whip three times her height and turned in a slow circle, watching Adaeyfur.

  Ty stood right behind her, circling as well. At one point, she took the whip from Ghost’s right hand and placed it in the skelli’s left. She had her point with her right hand, and when Adaeyfur ignored her, Ty put her hands on Ghost’s shoulders and moved her a few steps forward so she was closer to the gelding as he circled past. Ghost was staring at the horse’s head, and Ty put her hands on either side of her head and turned it so her gaze followed the horse’s flanks instead.

  Adaeyfur turned away, kicked out at them, and began running in the opposite direction.

  Ty immediately shoved her hands beneath Ghost’s armpits, picked her up, and moved in front of the gelding. This had apparently happened before because Ghost slashed the whip through the air and yelled in her childish, high-pitched voice, “No!” just as Ty set her back on her feet.

  The gelding stopped and stared at them.

  Kemi explained what was happening to Sábria, who was well aware of the basics of training a horse. Sábria, however, always nurtured the prickly woman’s sense of proprietorship over the stables, so she listened politely. “Th’ horse turned his butt to ’em. In a herd, that’s bein’ rude to th’ one what’s leadin’.” She glanced at Sábria. “I’ve seen yer Ty a few times with th’ horses. She’s good, Milady. Real good. And she’s good with th’ lass, too. Patient, like, and gentle.”

  Adaeyfur moved his head as though he’d turn his hindquarters to them again, but Ty growled, “No.”

  Ghost mimicked her tone exactly, and Adaeyfur studied them again.

  Ty put her hands on Ghost’s shoulders, and together, they moved back a step, inviting him to face them while he reversed directions. She had to direct Ghost’s gaze away from his head again, and when she did, the gelding pivoted by facing them and started trotting to the left.

  The training continued for another half-candlemark until Kemi brought out a muscular bay stallion and exchanged him for Adaeyfur. Ghost joined the others on the railing, but Ty stayed in the pen. When Kemi took her place next to Sábria, she said, “Let’s see how she does with Lugano.”

  Sábria jerked her head around to stare at her stablemaster. “Doesn’t Lugano mean ‘killer’ in one of the Trenchian Isle dialects?”

  Kemi chuckled, “Aye. I think she can handle him, though.”

  “What?” Sábria watched as Lugano charged and reared in front of Ty, who very neatly sidestepped and cracked her whip next to his body. Sábria gasped, “Kemi, no!”

  Kemi turned and looked directly into Sábria’s eyes. “Who’s th’ master in th’ stables, Milady? Me or you?”

  Sábria was well aware that Kemi considered her role as stablemaster sacrosanct. She also knew she wouldn’t have said anything if it had been any trainer other than Ty. Pursing her lips, she nodded and held onto the top rail in a convulsive, white-knuckled grip.

  It took close to another half-candlemark, but by the end, Ty had the stallion stopping, turning, and coming to her using only her hands and body and an occasional Dreyuthan “No.” or “Good boy.” Ty was no longer the timid slave who appeared afraid of her own shadow. She’d transformed into a self-assured, confident master, and Lugano had become her obedient student. Finally, she turned her back on him and walked toward the gate with Lugano following like a well-trained hound.

  Without taking her eyes off the horse, Kemi said, “I told ya yer lass were good, Milady. Ya need to trust me with th’ horses. I’d never put Lugano with someone what couldn’t handle him.”

  That was the second time Kemi had referred to Ty as ‘yer lass.’ It gave Sábria pause. She knew she’d never be ‘her lass’ until they’d gotten past the moment Ty realized who Sábria was in her life. For that matter, depending on Ty’s reaction, she’d probably never allow herself to be Sábria’s anything. She fully expected Ty’s hatred for the mother who abandoned her to a life of slavery to overshadow any apology Sábria offered.

  Ty placed the halter over the big horse’s handsome head, and as she and Kemi led him back to his stall, Sábria took Isobel aside. “I’m going to tell her. I can’t put it off any longer. Let me run through the words again to make sure I have them right.”

  Isobel stared into her eyes a moment and then nodded. “Okay.”

  There were a few specific words and phrases Sábria had been practicing with Isobel, and she ran through them now. “Mother is dhōdre. Grandmother is ra-dhōdre. I’m your mother is ni fo dhōdre, um….” Her brows drew down. “My mind suddenly went blank.”

  Isobel glanced at Sábria’s neck, where her pulse was beating too rapidly. She put a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe.” When Sábria had pulled in several supposedly calming breaths, Isobel grinned, “Well, that’ll have to do. Daughter?”

  “Um…kulah.”

  “Same?”

  “Liha. And ‘my’…is sa after the word.”

  They both glanced over to where Ailith was congratulating Ty with firm slaps on the back. Terro, Ghost, and Kemi were nowhere to be seen. “I guess it’s now or never.” She licked lips gone suddenly dry, and called out, “Ty.”

  Ty glanced over. When she realized who had called her name, she turned pale and quickly ran to where Sábria and Isobel waited. Her knee bent as she began to kneel. Halfway down, Ty remembered her instructions, straightened again, and bowed instead.

  Ailith had come too, and Sábria dismissed her. “You go on, Ailith. I want to speak to Ty alone.”

  With a hopeful glance at Isobel, Ailith brought her fist to her chest. “Aye, Milady.” She told Ty she’d speak with her later and then hurried beneath the archway leading to the inner courtyard.

  Isobel took a step, intending to follow Ailith, but Sábria put a hand on her arm. “No, Isobel. Please. Would you wait in my living room while I take Ty into my library?”

  “Of course. Whatever you need.”

  With her heart racing, Sábria indicated Ty should precede her through the gate into the Sanctum’s back garden.

  Ty stepped back and stared at Isobel with the rounded eyes of a panicked horse.

  “She won’t walk in front of you.”

  “Oh. Right. Um, okay. Will she follow?”

  Isobel bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling at how nervous her usually self-assured friend was. “She will.”

  “Okay.” With exaggerated steps, Sábria walked into the garden and up to the rear door leading to the back stairs. She climbed the steps two at a time and stopped on the landing to her floor. She turned around and blurted out to Isobel. “I can’t do this.”

  Isobel shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Okay? Aren’t you supposed to tell me, ‘Yes, you can?’”

  “Do you want me to?”

  Not sure what she wanted Isobel to do, Sábria growled, opened the hallway door, and walked inside. When she reached her door, she let herself in and held it open for the other two to enter. When Isobel raised one brow and remained in the hall with Ty, Sábria sighed. “Right. Come hold the door then.”

  Isobel bit her lip again and shook her head.

  Sábria was confused for just a moment before she rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “I think my mind has deserted me.” She stepped back out into the hall and waited. Isobel said something to Ty, and the younger woman immediately opened the door and stood holding it with her head bowed.

  Isobel motioned for Sábria to precede her, and when they were both inside, Isobel spoke to Ty, who silently closed the door and stood next to it with her hands clasped in front of her thighs.

  “Would you ask her to follow me, please?” Sábria walked into the library, and Ty stepped in after her. Sábria had chosen this room for the large mirror hanging over a small desk built in between two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Gently taking Ty’s arm, she placed her in front of the mirror and stood to the side so Ty would initially only see herself. Nausea ate at Sábria’s insides, and she couldn’t seem to pull in enough air.

  Ty blinked several times, moving her head back and forth, trying to decide who she was seeing. She raised her hand to her cheek and then ran her fingers over lips the exact shape of Sábria’s.

  Sábria pulled in as much of a steadying breath as she could and stepped next to Ty. She placed a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder, and two pairs of identical blue eyes met in the mirror.

  Confusion crossed Ty’s features as she stared at Sábria’s reflection. Her gaze moved to her own face again. She touched her blonde shock of hair and then looked at Sábria’s greying blonde hair. Her gaze returned to Sábria’s eyes. Lifting a finger to her own eye, Ty whispered, “Liha.”

  Sábria nodded, “Yes, the color is the same. Liha.” She took down a small portrait she’d previously placed on a shelf next to the mirror and held it up so Ty could see. Pointing to her mother at thirty-five standing next to a twelve-turn Sábria, she moved her finger to her mother’s identically blue eyes. “Liha.” Then she quietly tapped her mother’s image again and said, “Ra-dhōdre.” She pointed to Ty and repeated, “Fo ra-dhōdre. Your grandmother.”

  Pulling in a strangled breath, Ty covered her mouth and once more looked at herself in the mirror.

  The tears were almost blinding Sábria now, and she pointed to herself. “Ni fo dhōdre. I’m....” She swallowed hard as she tried to get the words out. “I’m your mother.” Tears streamed down Sábria’s cheeks, dripping off her chin and falling to the floor. She held her breath, expecting Ty to bare her teeth in hatred and anger and curse her.

  Ty covered her eyes completely, and a long, low wail began deep in her throat. The wail turned into sobs, and her shoulders heaved from a tidal wave of feelings that were too much for a woman who’d learned from infancy to stifle even the slightest vestige of emotions.

  Not sure what to do, Sábria did what came naturally. She tentatively put her hands on Ty’s shoulders and, with a gentle tug, offered herself should Ty want to be held. Very, very slowly, Ty leaned in and allowed Sábria to pull her into an embrace. Sábria wept into Ty’s hair and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, pulling Ty’s head to her chest and holding her daughter, whose sobs were robbing her of the ability to breathe.

  When she heard Ty’s initial wail, Isobel approached the door to see if she could help. She stared at the two women with her fingers pressed against her mouth. She rarely cried, but her tears were flowing freely as she watched one of her best friends making peace with a daughter she’d thought lost forever.

  Sábria stroked Ty’s hair. “Shhh. Kulah sa. My kulah. My precious daughter.”

  Ty remained in Sábria’s arms until she’d cried herself out. It took some time, but she was finally able to pull in a breath. When she pushed back, she stared deeply into Sábria’s eyes while tears continued to fall down both their cheeks. Ty hesitantly reached up, placed her fingers near Sábria’s ear, and wiped away her mother’s tears with her thumb.

  Sábria habitually kept a silk handkerchief in her pocket. She tugged it out and gently dabbed Ty’s tears in return.

  Ty turned toward the mirror again and stared at the two of them. Her gaze traveled back and forth, back and forth, taking in the identical shapes of their lips, the color of their eyes, and the similar, warm undertones of their skin. She ran her finger down her nose, which had been broken in a different place than Sábria’s.

  Sábria took hold of Ty’s finger and ran it down her own nose that had been broken in a bar fight in the Broken Tooth Tavern when she’d been a nineteen-turn Blade. When a short bubble of laughter escaped Ty’s lips, Sábria smiled. The smile blossomed into a radiant expression of joy and happiness when Ty wrapped her arms around Sábria’s shoulders and pulled her in tight. They remained like that until Sábria moved them both to the sofa. With hand motions, she invited Ty to sit.

  Reverting back to her previous self, Ty blinked several times and took several frightened steps back. Her face became blank as she clasped her hands in front of her thighs and stared at the ground.

  From the doorway, Isobel softly said, “Slowly, Sábria. Thirty-two turns of conditioning can’t be changed in a day. Perhaps if you sat on the sofa, she’ll join you if I tell her that’s what you want her to do.”

  Pursing her lips, Sábria nodded. “You’re right. But what do you think she’s thinking? Looking at her now, it seems as though she thinks she’s my slave.”

  “If I could join you and translate between you, perhaps we could find out.”

  Sábria sat and indicated Isobel should sit in the red silk wingback chair. When they were both settled, Sábria patted the cushions next to her. “Please, come sit, Ty, so we can talk. I’m sure you have so many questions running through your mind.”

  Isobel translated, and Sábria decided she would treat this as though there wasn’t a third party in the room repeating everything she and Ty said. She was disappointed when Ty sat at the opposite end of the sofa. “We have a lot to discuss, and I’m sure you have a thousand questions running through your mind. It would be easier if we could pretend that I’m not the Arch Priestess and Lady Isobel isn’t your former master or a Lady Knight, and you are a young woman named Ty. Can we try that?”

  Ty listened to the translation, raised her gaze, and nodded.

  “Good. What’s the first question you’d like to ask?”

  “Why did you sell me?”

  Okay. That was leading with a gut punch right from the start. Well, she’d opened the gate, and now she’d have to walk through it as best she could. “I didn’t. I was a child when you were born. My parents had just been….”

  Her throat closed, and her gaze fell on the keshai chaiwe she’d brought from the townhouse. The vision of her mother and father rose in her mind, bringing back the peace she’d felt the day she’d played those haunting, silvery notes. She remembered her mother’s kind eyes looking at her with so much love. Her gaze moved back to Ty’s eyes, which were so similar to her mother’s, and she managed to whisper, “They had just been murdered and⁠—”

  Ty’s soft gasp interrupted her words. Sábria had to blink several times because it seemed as though she were seeing her mother’s love reflected in her daughter’s eyes. She covered her mouth and had to look away before she began crying again. Closing her eyes, she tried in vain to center her emotions. This was the time for Ty to ask questions and for her to answer. It wasn’t about Sábria dealing with emotions she’d kept locked up for the past thirty-two turns.

  Her eyes shot open when a gentle hand covered the fist Sábria held balled in her lap. There were her mother’s eyes again, but with that thought came the realization she was being unfair to the woman seated next to her. Those were Ty’s eyes looking at her with such loving concern, and it was Ty’s thumb that was gently caressing the top of her hand. Sábria only just managed to continue, “I didn’t sell you, Ty. I believed the people who adopted you would love you and raise you as their own. I only found out you were a slave when Isobel found you and brought you home to me.”

  Isobel’s continuous translations were so smooth as to be nearly instantaneous.

  Ty’s brows drew down in concern. “Your parents were murdered. And you were a child?”

  “Yes.”

  “And my father?”

  Sábria swallowed hard and turned panicked eyes on Isobel. “I…can’t….”

  There was one belief Isobel always held close to her heart. “Sábria. She’s asking about her father and needs to hear the truth. There’s a Dreyuthan saying that’s eerily apropos. ‘While truth may not always liberate a slave, it unfailingly emancipates the soul.’”

  Pulling in a breath, Sábria turned back to Ty. “The…men who killed my mother and father…they…uh….” She stopped to drive back the tears.