My mother’s reaction is just as I expected. “Why?” she asks me. That simple word breaks my heart. “Why so far and why now?”

“And it’s not an easy journey,” adds my father. He’s more stoic, though his voice is equally heavy. “Not for anyone, much less a rosemarked woman.”

“Tal will provide me with escorts,” I tell them. “And exchanging knowledge with the Amparan healers would be good for everyone. I can learn from their doctors and send the knowledge back to Kaylah. I could treat the patients of Sehmar City.”

Leora puts her hand gently on my mother’s shoulder. “Zivah needs to live her life,” she says gently. “We can’t keep her out here alone, simply for our sakes.” Her words resonate more than I’d like to admit, and I wonder how well I’d really hidden my feelings each time she’d visited me in my exile.

“But aren’t we part of your life?” Alia says. Tears have started to run down her face.

“Alia, I…” As I falter, Alia jumps up and runs into the forest. I hear her sobs long after she disappears from view.

Leora looks after her, and then back at me. “She’ll understand with time.”

My mother’s teary too, though she doesn’t leave. She looks at me, eyes filled with love, as only a mother can. “We want what’s best for you,” she says. “If this is what you truly wish to do, then go with our blessing.”

Something shatters within me, and I look down to hide my face. “Thank you,” I whisper. And there’s nothing more I can say.

A fortnight later, Dineas knocks on my door. It’s just the two of us this time: the rosemarked healer and the soldier with no fear of her disease. Together somehow, we are to steal Ampara’s secrets.

I don’t know what to say to him. Any greeting seems trite. I wonder how he’s spent the past weeks. Has he had second thoughts as well? Did he have family to say good-bye to? Does he wish to stay, or is he eager to go?

After an awkward silence, I simply step back to let him in. He crosses the threshold gingerly, passing so close to me that his tunic brushes my sleeve. It catches me off guard. After so many months with the disease, I’ve grown used to people keeping their distance.

Dineas’s eyes dart around my house, going from my cot to my jars of herbs. Then he checks my wrist.

I hold it up to show him it’s bare. “Diadem sleeps there.” I nod to a cage by my table. I’ve felt safer having her in my room these past weeks. To be honest, I’d feel safer now if Diadem were still on my wrist.