“I try, you know,” she said. “I’m not a fighter like you or your family. I’m just little, quiet me, but I do try to use my position as a city clerk to help. People know to come to me if they need a home away from prying eyes. The members of our resistance, or those the empire has condemned, I find them places to stay. I sneak them into neighborhoods where the Uplifted Church has made no inroads. ‘Do what you can, Clarissa, and together we’ll change the island for the better.’ That’s what I tell myself. But I’ve seen the maps. The Everlorn Empire has conquered all the world. We’re a speck of dirt in the ocean. Our surrender, it’s only—”

“No!” Stasia snapped. “Don’t speak like that. Don’t think it. Don’t believe it. Empires crumble. They grow and swell and conquer, and with each gluttonous mile they swallow down, they come that much closer to bursting. Their foundation is rot. It trembles beneath them as they climb for the sky. Let Thanet be the breaking point.”

Clarissa slid from the bed, and she turned her back to Stasia as she peered out the thin, fogged window to the early daytime city. Her hand touched the dirty glass.

“Stasia,” she started, and it seemed her every word caused her pain. “My mother is always pleading for me to leave Vallessau for safer lands. Maybe we should—”

Her entire body froze. Her spine went rigid. It was like a rabbit discovering the presence of a hunter.

“Clarissa?” Stasia asked.

The smaller woman looked over her shoulders. Fear dominated her every feature.

“Soldiers.”

Stasia was off the bed and across the room in a heartbeat. She pressed her forehead to the glass and squinted. A squad of imperial soldiers blocked the crossroad five houses down, and when she tilted her head to peer in the other direction, she found a similar squad. Her dread grew. She knew these tactics. They’d been refined over millennia of conquest and subjugation. Already smaller groups were bashing down doors and forcing occupants to gather in the street. Many would be brought to prisons for questioning. Few would ever see the light of day again.

“No, no, no,” she said. “Is there a resistance home nearby?”

“Across the street. I set it up myself.”

“Fuck!” Someone had leaked word, initiating the sweep. The block was already sealed. Any hope of a clean, unnoticed escape was long gone. Stasia’s mind underwent a shift, all fear and emotion replaced with orders and strategy. Their survival depended upon it.

“Get dressed,” she said, and pointed to their pile of clothes. “We have to flee.”