Utana turns his palms up in an apologetic gesture. “I will keep writing and keep trying. Perhaps donations could be collected from the citizens. Any little bit would help, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” echoes Mehtap quietly. “Every little bit. Thank you, Your Excellency, for your efforts on our behalf. We are grateful.”

But as we walk home, Mehtap takes my arm and speaks her true thoughts. “They’ve forgotten us, haven’t they? To the healthy ones, we don’t exist anymore.”

Mehtap is noticeably quieter over the next few days. She makes some attempt at conversation when I’m around, but her eyes drift off, and her words sometimes stop midsentence. When I try to ask what’s wrong, she says she doesn’t want to talk about it and makes an excuse to leave the room.

It’s a full week before her spirits rise again. One morning, she runs to my doorway. “I’ve news,” she says, leaning in and hanging on the doorjamb with one arm. “Good news!”

“From Utana?”

She frowns. “No, not that. Never that. But come. Dineas is waiting in the courtyard.”

Dineas? Conspiring with Mehtap?

Mehtap bounces alongside me as we make our way down to the courtyard. When I get to the doorway, I come to an abrupt stop. Dineas is standing in the courtyard. He’s in full ceremonial attire—black conical helmet and silver-and-black-embroidered tunic. The bronze of his shield shines, as do the buckles on his fine leather belt.

Mehtap giggles. I quell my unease at seeing Dineas standing so proud in full Amparan regalia.

I dust my hands off on my apron. “I’m underdressed for the occasion, apparently.”

He bows deeply, his eyes full of mischief. Then he pulls out a parchment and starts to read. “On behalf of Emperor Kurosh of Ampara, I hereby extend an invitation to Mehtap, daughter of Arxa, and Zivah, daughter of Ruven, to attend the Spring Equinox Festival in a fortnight’s time in the Imperial Palace Gardens.”

“The emperor’s gardens,” says Mehtap in a singsong voice. “It will be so beautiful.”

That can’t be right. The garden is in the city.

Dineas continues reading. “Three soldiers of the empire will be honored at the feast for their bravery in service of the empire. Commander Arxa, son of Asina; Walgash, son of Frada; and Dineas, son of the gods.”

Has everyone gone mad? “Dineas, the festival’s in the palace. In the middle of a city full of people.”

Dineas drops the formal act and breaks into a boyish grin. “The emperor’s made allowances. You’ll be taken to your own marked area in the gardens, separate from the other guests.”

Mehtap adds, “But we’ll still be able to see the festivities, hear the music, eat the food, sit in the gardens.”