moments they were allowed to visit before Shalla returned to the augur temple for another day of lessons.
Tamra picked up her pace, anxious to see her.
She and her daughter lived in a patchwork kind of house, two mud-walled huts that had been shoved together and painted white to create a two-room home, between a spice shop and a weaver’s workroom. It smelled like a mix of cinnamon and citrus all the time, and there was the continuous comforting whoosh-thump sound of the shuttles on the weaver’s loom. Their house was too small to hold a shop plus living quarters, so the rent was cheap. Wedged between the other buildings, it didn’t look like much. But it was their home, and the recent unrest in other parts of the city hadn’t touched it yet. She wondered if the discontent would reach such a boiling point that it would stop being safe to let Shalla walk to and from temple. She hoped it didn’t come to that. Surely, the emperor-to-be would be crowned soon.
Tamra let herself in and breathed in the scent of baking onion bread, her favorite. “Shalla? Shalla, I’m back!” Shutting the door behind her, she braced herself.
A second later, an eleven-year-old girl bounded out of the second room and launched herself toward Tamra. Shalla had shiny black hair, burnished bronze skin, and brilliant purple eyes—her eyes were a legacy from a man that Tamra barely remembered, though she once thought she loved him. She’d named her Shalla, which meant “star,” because she was the light that guided Tamra through the darkest parts of life.
Shalla launched herself into Tamra’s arms, hugging her so tight that Tamra let out an “Oof!”
“Mama, you will not guess what happened!” Grabbing Tamra’s hands, Shalla skipped in a circle as if she were again five years old. A memory flashed into Tamra’s mind of her daughter that young, pudgy-cheeked and mud-spattered, contrasting with the polished young student she was being groomed to become, and Tamra felt like laughing and crying at the same time.
Shalla often made her feel that way, especially these days.
“You sprouted wings and learned to fly,” Tamra guessed.
Stifling a laugh, Shalla rolled her eyes. “Mama.”
“You tamed an elephant and want to keep him as a pet.”
“Mama.”
“You met the Lady with the Sword, and she promised you a ride across the desert on her magical cheetah, but first you had to eat a lake of honey.”
“Mama! I passed the level eight exam!” For the past three weeks, Shalla had barely slept, worried about the exam and consumed by the fear that the augurs had made a mistake in choosing her—only the best souls were reborn as potential augurs. An irrational fear, Tamra thought. Of course my Shalla was glorious in her past life. But now all that worry had vanished, and Shalla was beaming joy with every bit of her body. Tamra wouldn’t have been surprised if she started to glow bright enough to drown out the city lights.
Beaming back at her, Tamra kissed her on both cheeks. “Knew it! You are the most clever, most wise, most brilliant, most talented, most—”
Shalla laughed again. “Only in your eyes.”
“My eyes are the only ones that matter. I see you clearly.” Tamra cupped her daughter’s face in her hands and met her gaze, hoping her daughter could read her sincerity. She meant every word. Shalla was a miracle and a marvel.
Pulling back, Shalla batted her mother’s hands away. “Gah! You’re looking at me like you look at kehoks!”
“I’m looking at you with adoration and admiration!”
“Exactly what I said.” Then she yelped, “Oh, no, I burned it!” She scampered across the room to the brick oven and yanked the door open.
“You didn’t,” Tamra said reassuringly. No smoke. No burning smell. “It’s perfect. Like you.” If she told her daughter that often enough, maybe someday she’d believe it. Her worth wasn’t measured in exam grades or in the approval of the augurs. She was worthy no matter how well she did or didn’t do. Tamra wanted her daughter to understand that at the very core of her being.
Growing up, no one had ever told Tamra she had any worth. In fact, it was always the opposite.
Her one driving force from the second Shalla was born was to make sure that girl knew she was loved. And then the augurs saw her value, too, and took her away from me.
At least she had her back at night. For now, a tiny fear whispered inside her. Tamra pushed the