15
For a long time, my mind hovers in an empty space between sleep and dream. The pain in my back is gone. The tournament and stables seem a thousand miles away.
My dreams finally come into focus. I find myself standing on the windy floor of the Gray Sea. Dreamscape. A circle of white flame flickers on the ground by my feet. Within the fire, sand rises into the form of my mother in her senate robes. The ring of flames flares higher, then disappears. Mom’s sand-made body transforms into living reality.
Mom sits on a bench in the marble senate chamber. She clasps her hands tightly in her lap, her back is stiff and straight. Around her, senators, aides, and ambassadors cram onto benches and crowd along the walls. There’s hardly room to breathe, let alone move. At the front of the chamber,
