I’m not sure when the tears started. They were just there as I spun. Clinging to me and then letting go. I let them come. It was the first time I wasn’t ashamed of their presence.

I let heaving sobs take me. They pulled at my body, throwing me off balance.

I spun until I couldn’t hold breath in my lungs, my legs gave out, and I fell to my knees in the middle of the circle.

The drumming cut off.

I covered my face with my palms and sobbed. The sound echoed around the cavern.

It sounded like weakness. But I didn’t feel weak. For the first time, I felt strong. The strength my mother had been talking about.

What had Cion said? That it was right to return our tears to the earth?

I think my mother would’ve agreed. She’d said that strength didn’t always come in the form of a sword arm.

I wiped my eyes and looked up at the dirt-stained faces around me. More than one was crying. I thought I even caught a glint in Cion’s eyes before he rose to his feet, clapping. That broke the spell over the boys. They jumped to their feet, applauding.

I rose to my feet and bowed as steadily as I could.

Every pattern had an escape route that was supposed to be visible to only the dancer in the middle. Mine was a little crooked. I weaved through the lines so as not to disturb anything.

By the time I found my way out, some of the boys had returned to the fire. Others had moved off to the side and were trying to make their own patterns.

Cion waited at the edge of the sunrays. “That was beautiful.”

“It’s been a long time,” I replied. I was suddenly conscious of how blotchy my cheeks must be. I ducked my head and rubbed at my cheeks using the dangling fabric wrapped around me.

Cion surprised me by lightly touching my chin and pulling it back up. He wiped away a tear with his thumb, sending warmth through my body.

The golden flecks of his eyes pulled in the warmth of the bonfire as he smiled down at me. How could I have misjudged him so? He wasn’t the cold-blooded killer I’d always pictured. He was gentle, kind, understanding. He was so unlike anyone at the palace that he seemed more like a mirage than something I could believe was real. Then again, hadn’t my mother possessed his same optimistic spirit, that same drive to stand up for her people?

“Thank you,” he said. “You gave these boys something they will always treasure.”

I wiped away another tear. “I’m sorry I ruined it by crying. I was thinking about my mother.”

“Ruined it?” He shook his head, sending his untamed hair even further astray. “You made it personal, real. You made us feel what you were feeling.”

I smiled up at him. But there was sadness in his eyes.