One day, Dineas comes to a stop at the top of a ridge. “The emperor’s road,” he says. It runs straight south toward where the air wavers in the horizon, wide enough for several chariots to ride side by side. Though it’s early in the day, many people travel along it. In the distance, a watchtower stands sentinel.

I shield my eyes against the sun. “This will take us to Sehmar City?”

He nods. “It gets more crowded from here on out. We’ll likely attract less notice if we mix ourselves in with the other travelers, rather than sneaking along the side roads. And we should go separately. Far enough from each other so that people won’t think we’re traveling together.”

What he says makes sense. I have good travel documents. They even allow me to take rations from imperial rest houses if I so wish. Dineas, however, only has an identification parchment with a badly forged seal. It might fool a careless inspector, but it would be much better for him to avoid attention completely.

I rummage through my bags and pull out a large undyed cloth, woven loosely enough to see through—a plague veil. The empire requires their rosemarked to wear it whenever we might encounter the healthy. I run it between my fingers and then take off my hat and drape the cloth over it, securing it with ties I’d sewn on. I pause, fingering the rough fabric.

“Is something wrong?” Dineas asks.

“No. I’ve just…never worn one before.”

I expect impatience or sarcasm, but Dineas stays silent. Finally, I take a breath and duck under the veil, taking care not to disturb Diadem on my arm. My hat feels heavier with the fabric draped over it. The cloth falls as low as my ankles and provides a cylinder of welcome shade. I can see through it well enough to make my way, but I think I’d trip if I had to run.

I can sense Dineas watching me. “You go ahead first,” he says. “I’ll trail behind.”

I open my mouth to reply, but it feels strange to talk through the veil, so instead I just start down the ridge.

My progress is slow. Even though the veil doesn’t reach my feet, it encumbers my arms and legs when I walk. When I hold my arms out for balance going down a hill, the motion pulls at my hat. Every once in a while, I kick a rock I didn’t see or step into a divot and have to catch myself. Diadem bobs her head and looks around, more lively now in the newfound shade.