Mother huffed out a breath. Warriors had little respect for any of the other talent groups, but for hearth-keepers? Let’s just say if Harmony showed skills in that area, I’d find myself fighting Mother with more than just words to keep her from dragging my daughter back to the Amazons to discover her “true” calling.

Not that I thought there was much chance of that. There hadn’t been a hearth-keeper in our direct line for six generations. Besides, I was hiding more than the appearance of the dead teens from my family. I was hiding another discovery-that my own powers had grown. Maybe the ten years of non-use had done them some good. Twisted as it seemed, maybe ten years away from the Amazons was making me more of one.

“You don’t work at it.” Mother picked up the conversation like I hadn’t even mentioned the hearth-keeper possibility.

“And neither will Harmony.” I dropped the spoon on the table with a thunk.

“And neither will Harmony what?” My little pitcher strolled into the kitchen, a pink backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Make it to school on time if she doesn’t get moving.” I slid the box of cereal and a carton of milk across the table toward her and used my bare arm to wipe up a spill of milk.

“Not Cheerios. Lindy’s baby brother eats them, for God’s sake.”

I turned my frown on my daughter. We might not worship mundane humans’ God, but I believed in respect.

“Sorry, goodness’ sake,” she said, with a complete lack of remorse.

“Here. Eat.” My gaze on Mother, I stood and plopped a bowl of cereal down in front of my daughter.