I sink into my chair, turning the information over in my mind. Maybe that’s why it felt like Mother hadn’t only been teaching me to heal the sick or patch wounds in dark alleys. Every rule she ever gave me … how to stay calm when others panicked, how to make decisions fast, how to listen before acting … maybe those were lessons she knew I would need one day. Maybe she saw something that convinced her to leave without a trace.
The thought lodges somewhere deep in my chest, uncomfortable and sharp:why didn’t she tell me any of this? What else has she kept from me?
I start to spin out, jumping up from my chair to pace. “What if something terrible happened, Astrid? What if someone killed her? She was the last Daughter of the Moon that we know of … what if there are still people out there who want anyone connected to that time dead?”
“We don’t know for sure that she’s in danger, Cyra,” Astrid says gently.
“Butwhyis she gone, Astrid? Why now?” The words pour out of me in a rush. “This is all connected, it has to be...”
Astrid shoots me a look of confusion.
I take a deep breath, realizing that this needs explanation. “Something happened last night,” I continue, “The hunger was so intense, I just needed to find someone to heal, and there weren’t any more leads in the market … so I tried the slums. I found a boy in an alley, but this man tried to attack me, and then—” I pause, realizing how insane this will sound.
“Then what?”
“Shadows. Someone who could control darkness saved me. Hewore a white mask, and the shadows obeyed him like they were …alive.” I watch Astrid’s face for disbelief, but she just nods thoughtfully.
“Shadows?” she questions. “That sounds like old magic. Dangerous magic.” Astrid furrows her brow. “There’s a spice merchant I deal with at the docks – he used to import from Pluto decades ago, before the kingdom fell. He’s seen things.” Astrid begins pacing now, long black hair in a single braid down her back swinging like a pendulum. “He mentioned to me once that shadow wielders are usually executed if they’re found out. Said the Cardinals consider them too unpredictable, too powerful to control.”
“It was beyond anything I’ve ever seen.” I sink back into my chair, exhaustion weighing me down. “Now Mother’s missing, and I’m being summoned to court. It can’t all be a coincidence.”
Astrid stops pacing and looks at me seriously. “I could ask the herb traders – see if there are others who whisper about people who control shadows, and about what might have happened to Liora.”
The implication is clear. Whether anyone’s been digging into the past. Into bloodlines. Into survivors.
Before I can respond, another knock echoes through the cabin – but this one is different. Demanding.
We freeze, staring at each other.
“Cyra of the Red Market District?” a deep voice calls. “We are here to escort you to the palace, by order of Lord Zevran.”
Through the window, two palace guards in red flank our door.
“Effective immediately,”the summons said.They aren’t even giving me time to think about it.
Every instinct screams at me to run. Slip out the back window, disappear into the market crowds. If I go to the palace, I won’t be able to stay invisible any longer. But the palace may also have the answer as to where my mother is.
Astrid grabs my hand. “You don’t have to go.”
“Yes, I do.” I spit out. If I run, if I refuse, they’ll start asking questions – and that would be a death sentence not just for me, but for everyone I care about. “If there’s any chance of finding out what happened to Mother, it’s at the palace.”
The knocking becomes pounding. The stress spikes my adrenaline and with it, my withdrawal. My hands begin to shake, a bead of sweat forming on my upper lip.
“I’ll pack you a day bag,” Astrid says as she sees my face go pale, already moving toward my kit. “And I’ll start asking questions. Carefully.”
“Astrid.” I catch her arm. “Be careful. If old magic is involved, if someone powerful enough to make my Mother disappear is behind this…” I can’t finish the thought.
She squeezes my hand. “I will. But Cyra – promise me you’ll be careful too. The palace is dangerous. People there kill with smiles on their faces.”
I nod, understanding completely. Court also means being trapped in a world where I can’t slip away to the slums when the craving becomes unbearable. Then another thought crosses my mind:maybe part of me wants to go.
Maybe at court I won’t have to sneak around, pretending my healing is purely altruistic. Maybe I can finally have a patient who needs me regularly without having to search through the slums for broken bodies. The admission of this to myself causes a wave of nausea to wash over me.
Suddenly, the pounding stops. A new voice, colder: “We’re coming in!”
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Astrid whispers urgently.
“I promise.”
