Tus quiets abruptly, then turns wild eyes to us. “Go,” he says. “Go back to Gatha. Finish your mission. Tell her I gave the Amparans nothing.”

“We’re not leaving you here.”

He grabs me by the wrist. “Then don’t. But the only way out for me is through Zenagua,” he says. “Help me find her.”

It’s like a boulder has been dropped on my chest.

Next to me, Zivah shudders. “I can give him a sleeping dart and a bite from Diadem. He shouldn’t feel pain that way.”

Her words snap me out of my stupor. “No. A Shidadi should die by his own hand.” Tus is a warrior, the man who cared for me after my father died, who protected Shidadi secrets to the very end. That’s who he really is, not this quivering broken thing in front of me. My hands tremble as I give him my dagger. “May Neju carry you straight to Zenagua’s paradise.”

He’s so weak that the dagger dips toward the ground before he musters the strength to lift it. “Go,” he rasps. “I’ll make peace with the gods alone.”

My last glimpse of Tus is of him leaning against the wall, staring at the blade. As Zivah and I flee down the corridor, we hear a muffled groan and a soft gurgle. I lift up one last prayer for him. That’s all I can afford to give.

The first floor looks like it’s been worked over by assassins. Bodies lie sprawled everywhere, and a smoky haze lingers in the air. I give her a sideways glance. “You did this?”

“Hurry” is all she says.

“Neju help me if I ever insult a Dara maiden again.”

She’s right that we need to hurry though. I scan the soldiers and strip the livery off the one closest to my size. Zivah turns her back as I change, though I’m fairly sure she’s seen me bare plenty of times by now. I lift a sword and a new dagger off the same man, and then we’re out the door.

“How did you get in?” I ask her.

“There was an unlocked gate in the garden. Nobody challenged me in this dress.”

True, many soldiers will look the other way rather than confront a powerful lady. “Let’s go that way. I’ll pretend to be your bodyguard.”

She walks ahead, and I trail behind her, though it’s hard to play the menacing bodyguard when everything hurts. There’s also a question of how often noble ladies walk around the barracks at night. The hair on my arms stands on end every time we pass another soldier, and she gets her fair share of looks and knowing grins. Still, no one stops us.