No other attendants or servants greet Lexi as she enters her kith-kin’s familial tower. She regretfully dismissed the last of the full-time staff two weeks ago, and a week after that hiring temporary help became unfeasible. Gen Stalbraid’s allotment from the state has been reduced several times as pleading for the Bottoms seemed to become less and less a priority in their eyes. Since Brio’s disappearance, Lexi has become increasingly convinced that the reduction in their access to resources was less about their importance and more about intentionally harming their ability to represent the residents of the Bottoms.

Lexi, hands filled with the material of her wrap, ascends the winding stairs of the tower, passing doors opening into well-appointed rooms: the salon in which her mother instructed Lexi in the ways of state functions and formal events, the balcony kitchen where most of the meals she’s eaten in her life were prepared in the open air to save the cooks from the ovenlike heat within.

The Gen’s library resides halfway up the tower, a small horseshoe-shaped space with two stories into which hundreds of volumes have somehow been crammed.

Lexi stands at the threshold, staring at the large wooden lectern and adjoining table in the center of the library.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever stepped foot in this room before. No. I never made it past the threshold. I’d stand outside and tell Brio to come to bed, or to dinner, or to pelt him with pillows or bread or whatever I could find when I was bored or lonely or—”

Taru doesn’t speak, seeming at a loss as to how to provide their mistress comfort.

Lexi breathes deeply, tamping down her emotions.

“Brio knew these stacks like he knew his own mind. He was raised to be a pleader. I was raised to be a pleader’s wife. I know how to host formal events. I know all the rules of Gen etiquette. I can greet you in every recognized language in the nation. But none of that ever involved a law library. I suppose I should consider myself grateful they deemed it fit to teach me to read at all.”

She looks up at Taru. “Meaning no offense, but you can read, yes?”

“Yes, Te-Gen. Brio’s father insisted.”

“Good. Because if we’ve any chance at all, I can’t possibly read through enough of these volumes in time to make a difference.”

Even Taru can’t suppress their shock. “Te-Gen, surely retaining the temporary services of a pleader would be the most effective—”

Lexi actually laughs, the outburst enough to silence Taru.