Gina swirled her wine. “Oh it’s ‘sanctity’ this and ‘appointments’ that,” she said, waving a hand. “Some rebel force has been gaining traction, but I hardly think they’ll kick up any dust. The Sun Wardens have their constables out in force, bashing doors in, putting on public displays. Barbaric bunch, if you ask me. Senate is all aflutter, voting on whom to put in Rolandrian’s place—him being without an heir and all—someone to rally behind. The Wardens claim the successor will be chosen in due course by their god. Your standard transfer of power. Don’t ask me for specifics. I don’t get out to Linura much these days.” She leaned forward. Anji felt Kit inch back.

“I have heard it said that since the king was killed, they’re having issues in some of the factories. Strange, isn’t it?” And Anji really believed the woman was confused. “You’d think order a balm to chaos. That the foundations, cracked as they were, were enough to hold everyone up. But they obviously weren’t. There have been attempts to climb the revolutionary ladder for years, decades even.” She tapped her lip. “But it seems they—this rebel group, I mean—the Tide, may yet gain a foothold. Who’s to say?” Gina sat back in her seat. “It’s all rather droll to me.”

Anji locked eyes with Gina. “Revolution bores you?”

“Quiet,” snapped Kit.

Gina barked a laugh. “Futility bores me, child. Who gets to eat what? Who dies when? Who shits where? Do all you like. Set fires in all the places you deem necessary. It’s all the same in the end. Some people have things, others don’t. No amount of protest will make it any different. The revolution ends, and people are still starving somewhere.”

“Easy words for someone with food.”

Gina tapped a finger against the glass. “I like this one, Kit,” she said, eyes fixed on Anji. “But then again, I’ve always had a weakness for weakness.”

In response, Kit dosed herself again. She sniffed and held her head back, letting the powder do its work.

“A piece of advice for you,” Gina continued, her misty eyes meeting Anji’s, “whatever your name is. The world won’t make space for you or your ideals.” She weighed her hands. “There’s the reality you wish for, and the one which exists. Try to remember which will keep you alive.”

Kit set a hand on Anji’s knee, steady now. Firm.

Gina tittered another laugh, drained the last of her wine, and set the glass on the table. “It’s no matter to me. People will be looking for a fix till the world ends.”

A retort was ready on Anji’s lips, but Kit squeezed her knee and inched forward.

“Day is fading,” she said, “and I must be on my way. Much as it pains me.”