“I don’t regret fighting,” she said. “I just… I want to feel like there’s still hope. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“You could always stop fighting.”

Bitter laughter bubbled up from her stomach, or perhaps it was the ale and cheese hitting her stomach hard.

“Of all the things in my future, that’s the least likely, I’d say.”

She wasn’t ready for the hurt that flashed across Clarissa’s round, puppy-dog face.

“You don’t have to laugh at me so.” She shifted on the bench, finally breaking their physical contact. “We’re so far away from the mainland, they can’t possibly rule over us like they do elsewhere. What if we kept silent, kept our heads down, and continued on with our lives in secret?”

Stasia couldn’t believe what her ears were hearing. When the Ahlai family had arrived on Thanet, they’d met with the remaining supporters of the resistance that had endured after Vallessau’s collapse and the defeat of the island’s four lords. Clarissa had caught Stasia’s attention at the very first meeting, a mousy little woman with bright eyes and a mind for numbers. Despite two years of subjugation, she had fought back in her own way.

Vallessau’s trio of city clerks had been disbanded upon the empire’s arrival, replaced with three underlings the church thought more easily controllable. Clarissa had been one such underling, and she used her position to manipulate properties, smuggle and store supplies where patrols would not check, and create safehouses for those who could no longer show their faces in public. She lamented the loss of Endarius and offered prayers for the slaughtered royal family. When times were dark, Clarissa was Stasia’s light.

“You don’t mean this,” Stasia said. She reached for Clarissa’s hand upon the table, and for a brief moment she feared the other woman would pull away. Thankfully she kept still, and when Stasia’s fingers intertwined with hers, there was still love and tenderness within them.

“Do you know what I do every sunrise?” Clarissa asked. Her blue eyes remained locked on the table. “I walk past the Dead Flags and look upon the faces of every single person swinging from a rope. I look for you, Stasia. Every morning, I steel myself to see you hanging with a noose about your neck, and every morning I offer Lycaena a prayer of gratitude that you aren’t one of the dead. Every morning, Stasia. Every morning.”

She was crying. Damn it all, Stasia wanted to scream. Was she even capable of doing one single thing right?

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” Clarissa continued. “I can’t keep going to sleep at night thinking the next morning will be the one I have to say goodbye. The life the empire would leave us, it is wretched, but it is still a life… isn’t it?”