Eti didn’t budge as the guardsmen swept into the inn. She barely glimpsed them from where she stood, hunched behind the crates, which concealed her from their view. Judging by their footsteps, there were no more than three of them. Eti tried to picture what they looked like, young men as broad as Ojas, with red traitors’ silk draped over the brass clasps of their armor, their blades glinting menacingly beneath the afternoon sun.

At her side, Ariel took a nervous drag from his pipe. The burning scent of cloves made Eti think with another longing pang of her father. The memory of the king’s gentle, knowing voice calmed her enough to hold still for several agonizing minutes. Then the guardsmen emerged from the inn, grumbling over their unending lack of success. They didn’t stop to question Ariel. From their vantage point, they couldn’t see Eti. The gods must have blessed her, because the guards hurried on.

Their footsteps grew quieter as they charged farther down the street, venturing deeper into the merchant district. When they at last disappeared from view, Eti let out a sigh of relief. Ariel wiped the sweat from his brow and pulled the pipe stem from his lips. They debated where to go next. Eti was half-tempted to go inside the inn the guards had just deserted⁠—anything to get off the street. Then she noticed the scrap of scarlet fabric nailed above the entryway like a banner. Eti swallowed hard when she recognized the inn, a favorite meeting point for southerners who kept to their own even after they moved to Mariit. Bulan had pointed it out to her months earlier in passing, a place where the fiercest Kulaw warriors exchanged battle tactics and drank themselves stupid. Whether or not there were Kulaw warriors lurking inside, Eti knew they wouldn’t be safe there. Somberly, she nodded toward the banner. Ariel grimaced in response. In silence, they agreed to move forward.

They kept walking in the guardsmen’s wake until they reached another inn a few streets away. Above its gilt-edged window, the owner had pinned a long strip of green. Once Eti started looking for signs of loyalty, she could find them everywhere⁠—dozens of little green banners waving in silent allegiance to Eti’s family. In that neighborhood, at least, they outnumbered the few scarlet banners they’d passed. It was the closest thing to refuge Eti had seen in days.

When they rushed inside the green-bannered building, the innkeeper raised an eyebrow at Ariel’s accent and Eti’s disheveled appearance. If he guessed their true identities, he said nothing. Eti prayed the innkeeper’s loyalties were sure, and that he’d keep his silence for one more day. Ariel warned they shouldn’t stay in one place too long. They’d be gone the next morning without a trace.