her knee. Sora stilled, holding her breath.
“Despite your high marks in class,” Mama said, “I know these years haven’t been easy on you. You carry the burden of your sister’s memory with you. But it’s time to stop.”
Sora frowned; she was unaccustomed to the reprimand in her usually deferential mother’s tone.
“Before I read you the story, I said that we should remember Hana by using our lives to do what she could not. Do you understand what I meant by that?”
Sora bowed her head and kept it down, even more respectful than if she were before the Council. “You’re saying I shouldn’t take being a taiga for granted.”
“Yes,” her mother said. “But not only that—honor your sister by becoming the best you could ever be.”
She looked up now. “The best taiga.”
“Yes, that. Try harder in school. Push yourself when you become a warrior. But more important, be the best person you can be.” Mama squeezed her knee, losing the harsh edge in her voice. “Think of Empress Aki. She has done great things for our kingdom, but she doesn’t brag and doesn’t require loud adulation. Maintaining peace and quietly improving our lives is harder than it seems, and it is not glamorous. But there is a nobility in the way that she leads.”
Sora’s cheeks flushed. She was suddenly a bit ashamed of how she’d courted the limelight by shooting off fireworks at Rose Palace, not to mention the umpteen other stunts she’d pulled off in the past.
“Your Honor,” Mama said, “it is your duty to do more than most. To be more than most.”
The moon seemed to shine brighter. It filled Sora, as comprehension set in. Hana never had a chance to reach her potential. But I do.
Her teachers had been telling her for years that she was wasting her talent, that she could be so much more if she simply tried. But Sora hadn’t wanted to.
Until now. Thinking of what Hana could have been—that little girl who was so proud to be a taiga someday, so proud of having a big sister who was already an apprentice—let Sora see her purpose in this world in a different light.
I’ve been so selfish, Sora thought. She moved her hand and clasped Mama’s fingers in hers.
“I carry Hana’s memory with me,” Sora said, touching the golden pearl with her free hand. “I understand what you’re saying—I live this life for the both of us.”
Mama nodded, eyes glassy with tears. She held Sora’s hand more tightly. Sora stopped fighting her own sadness, and she let the tears spill over onto her cheeks. Hana had been a part of Sora’s life for six years, but just because she was dead didn’t mean Sora couldn’t keep her close to her heart now. Hana would be Sora’s inspiration; her death would not be in vain.
After a little longer at the shrine, Sora and her mother climbed together up the mountainside and back home.
Sora immediately went to Daemon. He’d been outside her father’s workshop, admiring the latest ceramic vases and platters. She had put up her mental ramparts while she was away so that he couldn’t feel her sadness. But Daemon’s forehead creased as soon as he saw the dried trails of tears on her face, and he set down the bowl in his hand and rushed to her. “Are you all right?”
She paused, but then nodded. She told him what had happened at the shrine, and through their bond, she shared the small swell of ambition inside her. Sora was talented enough to be part of the Imperial Guard, eventually. It would take years to become one—only the most accomplished warriors, with at least a decade of experience, could qualify for the honor—but the path started early. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late to change the trajectory of their careers.
“Mama’s right—I owe it to Hana to be more than just a decent taiga. From now on, I don’t want to be just some mischievous kid. I want to see what I’m capable of.”
Daemon laughed. “Welcome to actually caring what people think of you.”
Sora made a face. “Well, let’s not take it that far. I’m doing this for you and me, and for Hana. Not for the Council.”
He nodded. “I’m okay with that. But you know, even if your goal was to be the best taiga in Society history, for no reason other than for fun, I’d be there by your side the whole time.”
There was an intensity in his eyes, but it was different from the focus