But first thing I do when I return to my room is take off my healer’s sash. I run my fingers over Leora’s embroidery, remembering the day I received it. The test and the feast all feel like they happened years ago, though it’s only been months.

I hold the sash to my temple, conjuring up images of the day I took my vows. Then I put it down and take out my knife. The sash makes a horrible rending sound as it tears, and I let it fall into two ragged pieces on the floor. I stare at them, barely able to breathe, and wonder if I’ve made a grave mistake. But I know in my bones that I haven’t. The sashes are for those worthy of the Goddess’s trust, and after tonight I no longer count as one of their number.

The next morning, I fashion myself a new sash made of plain brown fabric. Mehtap notices right away, and I tell her I’d caught the other on a nail and will have to take time to mend it. All day at the hospital I think about Utana. Does he remember that he confessed his secrets to me? Will he tell me more, or will he hate me for betraying his trust? What would Kiran do to us if he knew?

That evening I send a messenger to Utana’s residence, requesting an audience. I don’t know what I’ll say to him, whether I should ask his forgiveness or ask to know more. Either way, I need to see him again.

The reply comes a few hours later, via the servant that had tended Utana the night before. He looks shaken, and he stumbles a few times on his words.

“I’m sorry, Healer. It was very unexpected for all of us.”

I take one look at him, and I know what’s happened. Even though it’s far too soon, I still know. “What is it?”

“His Excellency was feeling better after you left yesterday, but this afternoon he took a turn for the worse.” He takes a deep breath and swallows.

“What is it?” I ask again.

“He died, Healer Zivah. His Excellency has passed away.”

Chapter Thirty-eight

Zivah is bent over a patient when I step through the hospital door. She lays one hand on the old man’s arm, her eyes soft with compassion as she speaks to him. She’s back in her everyday clothes now, a long plain dress and an apron stuffed with herbs. But I can still see hints of the radiant woman at the equinox festival—the ribbons braided through her hair, the soft silk of her gown hinting at subtle curves in the wind. Either way, she’s beautiful.

Finally, she stands up. Her eyes scan past the door and settle on me. It’s a moment before either of us does anything.