So Hespira took leave of her mother and returned with him to the caves of the Sacred Mountain, and the vines of Hespira’s mother grew over Meridite’s temple. “I chose,” Hespira said again, and Horreon believed her. “Oh,” sniped Meridite, “you are clever.” But Horreon only stood blinking like an owl in sunlight. “Nothing,” said Hespira, tugging at Horreon’s hand until he turned to look at her. “She ate nothing in your temple, Mother,” said Horreon. “I asked for a woman who chose to be my wife,” said Horreon. “What’s one temple to me? Just because it is my favorite, don’t think I can’t do without it.” “Well, if you like her, keep her,” Meridite snapped. “I was letting her go,” said Horreon, and he turned back toward his cave, but Hespira still held him. “You were bringing her back,” the goddess said. “She suited too well, Mother,” said Horreon, and Meridite was startled to see that he was angry and that he was angry at her. “Who wants a clever girl? “Just as well,” said Meridite, “that her mother wants her back.” Looking at the girl carefully for the first time, she saw that she was not just pretty, she was clever. He’d meant to carry her forward a hundred years, out of the reach of her mother forever, but had changed his mind. “And you chose?” Hespira accused, and Horreon nodded. A current can carry you forward a year in an eye blink if you choose.” He said, “This close to the Sacred Mountain, time ebbs and flows. She turned to look at Horreon, and he looked down in shame. “It was an evening, no more,” protested Hespira.

“It is a year you have been gone,” her mother told her.

The queen thief