“Our city is cut with canals,” Dierdre continued. “When I was growing up, I would sit atop the ridge and watch the ships come in and out for hours, sometimes days. They would come to us from all over the world, flying all different banners and sails and colors. They would bring in spices and silks and weapons and delicacies of every manner—sometimes even animals. I would look at the people coming and going, and I would wonder about their lives. I wanted desperately to be one of them.”

She smiled, an unusual sight, her eyes aglow, clearly remembering.

“I used to have a dream,” Dierdre said. “When I came of age, I would board one of those ships and sail away to some foreign land. I would find my prince, and we would live on a great island, in a great castle somewhere. Anywhere but Escalon.”

Kyra looked over to see Dierdre smiling.

“And now?” Kyra asked.

Dierdre’s face fell as she looked down at the snow, her expression suddenly filled with sadness. She merely shook her head.

“It’s too late for me,” Dierdre said. “After what they’ve done to me.”

“It’s never too late,” Kyra said, wanting to reassure her.

But Dierdre merely shook her head.

“Those were the dreams of an innocent girl,” she said, her voice heavy with remorse. “That girl is long gone.”

Kyra felt sadness for her friend as they continued in silence, deeper and deeper into the wood. She wanted to take away her pain, but did not how. She wondered at the pain that some people lived with. What was it her father had told her once? Do not be fooled by men’s faces. We all lead lives of quiet despair. Some hide it better than others. Feel compassion for all, even if you see no outward reason.

“The worst day of my life,” Dierdre continued, “was when my father conceded to Pandesian law, when he let those ships enter our canals and let his men lower our banners. It was a sadder day, even, than when he allowed them to take me.”

Kyra understood all too well. She understood the pain Dierdre had gone through, the sense of betrayal.

“And when you return?” Kyra asked. “Will you see your father?”

Dierdre looked down, pained. Finally, she said: “He is still my father. He made a mistake. I am sure he did not realize what would become of me. I think he shall never be the same when he learns what happened. I want to tell him. Eye to eye. I want him to understand the pain I felt. His betrayal. He needs to understand what happens when men decide the fate of women.” She wiped away a tear. “He was my hero once. I do not understand how he could have given me away.”

“And now?” Kyra asked.

Dierdre shook her head.