The truth was that I was still perplexed by his relationship to a man. I still could not shake this deeply bred feeling that it was wrong. But there was nothing in the world that could turn me away from him. He could have murdered babies and laughed gleefully while he did it, and I would still have killed myself trying to impress him. The Semadran word for mentor is closely linked to the Semadran word for parent. I loved him more than I loved the tenets of my culture. I loved him enough to want to unlearn everything, to start the arduous and fearsome process of questioning these beliefs I held. I gathered my thoughts, and I spoke very, very carefully. “Sir, I believe it’s relevant now. It perhaps shouldn’t be, but I know it and you know I know it, and we both know how badly I have reacted to it. I would very much like to make amends. I cannot see a way to make amends with you, if you are willing, other than to acknowledge that this is now relevant. The things I have said are relevant. I am sorry I said them, but being sorry doesn’t mean they weren’t said, and doesn’t mean they caused no damage. The only way to repair damage is to acknowledge it exists.” I took a breath. “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

Dirva did not answer me for a very long time. “I will think on it,” he said.

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

At the end, some silver shreds left in Nuri rose to the surface. The red elves have a sanctity for life bred into their bones. We Semadrans are more careful about life: there are times, it is generally agreed, that a child should not be born. There are times when it is, perhaps, better to die than live. I am not sure why this difference between us and them exists. It may have something to do with the red elves losing so many in the war in the south: two lost generations to the Lothic Civil War. Semadrans, on the other hand…we have so little time, so few resources, and it behooves us to allocate them thoughtfully.