Zad, the third judge, applies a salve to my wounds. “You’ll have scars,” he says as he wraps the bandage with his long bony fingers. “But you want these scars. They are a mark of all you’ve worked for.”

And after he’s finished, Kaylah helps me out of my sweat-soaked clothes and wipes down my skin. When I feel human again, she takes me by the arm.

“Ready?” she asks.

I nod, and she opens the cottage door. It was dawn when I stepped into the cottage for examination, and now it’s late afternoon. Sunlight filters through the bamboo groves that surround our village, and the paths are mostly empty. Most of the people are still out on the crop terraces, finishing the spring planting.

“Zivah!”

I turn as my younger sister, Alia, throws her arms around my waist. “They told me you survived, but I had to see for myself.” She clutches me so tightly that the air rushes out of my lungs.

I laugh. “Are you trying to squeeze the remaining life out of me?”

My older sister, Leora, moves in for her own embrace. Her wise eyes shine. “Father and Mother had to return to the terraces. They will see you at the feast.”

Alia flings a thick black braid over her shoulder and grabs my arm. “And it is our job to prepare you.”

With that, she pulls me down the dirt path, giggling. The paths are uneven, curving with the slope of the valley. They are tricky to navigate on the best of days, and after this morning’s trial, it takes all my concentration not to fall on my face. Alia’s enthusiasm is infectious though, and I make a game effort as Leora makes more stately progress alongside.

We take a wandering hen by surprise as we careen around a bend. The poor bird squawks and flaps her wings, and Alia squeals in turn, windmilling her arms to keep from trampling the creature. Leora comes to the rescue, catching Alia’s waist from behind. For a moment, we are a wobbly tangle of arms and legs, and it’s only by some miracle that we don’t collapse altogether. Alia’s crying from laughter now, and I’m smiling as well. But Leora’s expression sobers suddenly, and I turn my head to follow her gaze.

A cluster of Amparan soldiers lounge by a stand of bamboo. One is a blond northerner. Another is a brown-skinned recruit from the southern territories, while others have the honey-colored complexion of the central empire. All of them, though, wear arrogance like mantles over their shoulders, and far too many look at my sisters and me in a way that makes me want to scrub their gazes off my skin. Leora squares her shoulders and deliberately resumes walking down the path. Alia and I follow her lead. After a few moments, the soldiers return their attention to their dice game.