He gave a little snort of laughter. “Love is often far more complicated than we like to think, isn’t it?” he replied. “We know that all too well. There’s what they tell you in children’s books and parables. Then there’s real life. You and I are not the first ones to be burned by love, my dear.”

She said nothing, just holding onto him, letting the tears slow to a hollow stop.

“Of course, one can hardly blame him,” he continued. “You have all of your mother’s beauty, and much more heart than she ever did.”

“I wish I didn’t. If only I’d been ugly, or cruel, or had no good spells to stop him. If I’d been worse. The world would be better without—”

He pulled away, put a finger rapidly to her lips, and didn’t let her say it. “Don’t ever say that, Miara. It’s not true. Not true at all.”

“It is true,” she whispered. She was too full of emotion to stay her words or think them through. “Don’t try to tell me it isn’t, Father. What about you and mother? It would all have been better without me. What good have I brought to you?” She shook her head.

“No,” he spat, his fingers digging into her arms. “You have brought me so much joy, it’s indescribable. You can’t possibly understand. I know it might seem hard to believe, but it’s true. Someday when you are a mother, you will see. Your mother and I would not have lasted. I was living a lie. And so was she. You helped me see that magic—and my daughter’s magic—was more important than that lie, whatever the cost. You have the best things about her in you, and then more. I cannot comprehend a world without you. And what the Masters have made you do is not your fault. That sin is on their souls, not yours. Let me send for Brother Sefim.”

“I already know what he would say,” she whispered bitterly. “He has told me a thousand times. But it is still my hands that have done these things. They are still my memories. I can’t forget giving him over to them, seeing them take him away because I was able to do their bidding. Sefim says the Balance will even out all things in the end—but where is the Balance now? Where is the Balance in my life? There is no balance here. No matter how much good I put in, only pain and strife come back in the end.”

“You’re young, Miara—”

“What does that matter?”

“You have many years of life ahead of you for things to even out. You have lived but a fraction of your time here. Justice is slow, and the Way is long. The Balance will reach you, it just takes time.”

“Has it reached you, Father?” she whispered.

His jaw clenched at that, and there was a look in his eyes she couldn’t decode. “It gave me you,” he whispered. “And Luha. Just one of you is more than I could dare to ask for.”

“Maybe the Balance is just a lie to keep us going. To keep us from giving up. Something to give us hope, but it’s not real. Maybe the world is not fair, and there’s absolutely nothing we can do about it.”

He stared at her. He said nothing for a long while. He didn’t seem to be wondering if what she’d said was true, and she was a little glad because she wasn’t sure she believed it was. Instead his face seemed to say that he wondered what she could have gone through that could possibly make her feel this way.

“Oh, Miara,” he whispered finally. “This has been even harder on you than I thought.”

They said nothing for a while, sitting in silence. Outside, a few birds chirped the songs of evening, readying for quiet.

“I will let you be,” he said. “I can see you need time to think and be alone. There are no easy answers, and even if I had any, I’m not sure you could hear them right now. But if I could say one more thing… I would say whatever you do, whatever they break in you, whatever they take from you, don’t let them take your faith. Don’t let them in that far. They don’t deserve it.”

He ran a hand over her hair, brushed the backs of his fingers along the scar on her cheek, and then stood. He kissed her on the forehead. Then he went to the window and closed the shutters.

“Shall I bring you back a flame for the fire?”

She nodded numbly.

He, too, nodded, bowed a little, and headed from her room. As soon as he was gone, she felt a strange longing. Fathers were supposed to have the answers. He always had before. But if he had the answer this time, he wasn’t saying. He was waiting for her to find it herself, or not at all. This time when he left her, the question was still hanging in the air.

She shouldn’t have pushed him so hard. She shouldn’t have mentioned Mother. Miara was hurt, and she was lashing out by hurting him. The Masters had hurt her and Aven, and she was just passing it onto her father as well. She had to stop the cycle.

But she didn’t have the strength just yet. She was still aching. Maybe tomorrow. Or perhaps her father yet had the strength to stop the cycle with him.

Later, he returned and stoked the fire for her, smiling sweetly at her, kissing her forehead, saying nothing. She smiled back weakly. She lay on the bed for the longest time, just listening to him move about his daily tasks in the adjoining rooms. He hummed to himself, a small salve to the emptiness. Her brain wouldn’t move, wouldn’t think. Every time it did, she hurt too much. Every thought was of Aven.

Eventually, Luha crept in and snuggled to her side, sleepy eyed and sweet. Miara had no idea what time it was, but it had to be very late.

“Can I sleep with you tonight, Miara?” Luha whispered. “It’s getting cold, and I had a nightmare.”

Miara smiled a little and nodded, and Luha climbed in next to her. Miara wrapped an arm around the little girl, pulling her close. There was probably no nightmare; Luha just wanted to be close. That was okay with her. The air had indeed grown cold, and besides, she had missed her sister.

For a moment, she could see Luha less as a little sister and more like her own little girl. Her father’s words rang in her head. Someday when you’re a mother. Would such a day ever come? What if she had her own little girl to cradle to sleep just like this? Could she bring a life into such a sad and unjust world? And even if she wanted to… who would ever be good enough to lie in her arms, after him?

For a moment, a vision flashed before her eyes—an older Aven with graying hair and a delicate silver crown, cradling a laughing little boy in the crook of his arm. What if… what if things had been completely different? What if she’d been born in Akaria? What if she’d been free? What if neither of them had had any of this stupid magic? What kind of family could they have created?