Ahmed felt his throat swell. It was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for him. “Thank you,” he said.

She shrugged. “Find yourself a nice boy to settle down with, and raise something worth a damn in this fucking desert. That’s thanks enough.”

He opened his mouth to deny it, but realized the time for deception was done. There was some relief in that.

Nyx leaned back on a wicker chair on the roof of the storefront, feet up on the edge of the parapet, gazing out over the city. She was drinking whiskey, and it had never tasted so good. Safiyah sat next to her, legs crossed beneath her billowing robe, hair pulled back from her creepily lovely face.

Nyx rubbed at a smear of blood on her trousers, wondering what injury it had come from. Most everything still ached, though the whiskey was dulling it now. In the distance, Blood Hill was lit up like a torch as order keepers and Ras Tiegan irregulars set up camp as temporary investigators.

“Think the bel dames will ever get it back?” Nyx asked.

“Of course they will,” Safiyah said. “You should know that better than I. But of course, they still have Bloodmount.”

“Just figured you’d have more experience with them than me.”

“I have seen bel dames do many things. Play many roles. But the bel dames I once knew and the ones as they are now…” She smirked. “They are far different people.”

“You talk about it like you remember when they ruled the world. Not like you read it in a book.”

Safiyah sipped her drink. It was some gross fruity thing. Nyx could smell it. Safiyah gestured up at the bright light in the sky—the alien ship locked in orbit around Umayma. “Have you ever seen a ship shot out of the sky?” she asked.

Nyx gazed up at the light. “Never happened in my lifetime. They say we lost the ability.”

“Not lost,” Safiyah said. Her eyes were bright. “Just dormant. Saving it for when they truly needed it.”

“How old are you, Safiyah?”

“Old enough.”

“How’s that possible?”