Phalue stretched her legs out and rolled her shoulders before getting up. She would have to deal with the sinking of Unta, with the questions, with any incoming refugees and her own frightened citizens. Not to mention Gio and the Shardless Few. She didn’t trust the temporary truce. But at this moment, she had a sparring match with Tythus, and those always helped her think.

She belted on her sword, fastened her armor and made her way to the palace courtyard. It was blessedly dry today – or at least, as dry as a wet season got. The stones were still damp, the air still moist, but there was no rain at that moment, and that was a welcome change.

A shout rose from the walls right as she was stepping outside. She frowned, watching the guards on the walls ready their bows.

Tythus strode to meet her. He was a similar age, height and build as she was – which made him a perfect sparring partner. But he was also a friend, one she’d come to appreciate almost too late. If he hadn’t freed her, the Shardless Few would have found her still in the cell her father had put her in, and placed a convenient knife between her ribs.“Constructs,” he said when he was close. “Harrying a supply wagon.”

“How many?”

“Two. The driver is only just holding them off. Didn’t think we’d need guards on the wagons up from the city. I’ll have to change that. It’s not safe outside the palace anymore. Not until we’re able to take care of all the constructs.”

Ranami was nowhere to be seen; she must still be tending to Ayesh. Phalue tapped the hilt of her sword. “Well, let’s go help.”

Tythus gave her a wry look. “I’m supposed to be sparring with you, not fighting war constructs with you. Ranami will be annoyed.”

“Tell her I ordered you to do it.” She went to the gates, Tythus on her heels. Ever since her meeting with Gio, she’d been feeling frustrated, pent up. She didn’t have the numbers to fight him head on, and she didn’t know how to deal with the constant, shadowy threat of assassination. It put Ranami on edge; it put her on edge.

The wagon had stopped a little way outside the gates. Two constructs stood between it and the palace walls, snapping at the oxen. The driver was shouting and had a walking stick in her hands. She swung it at them, barely keeping them at bay.

“Shoot if they get close to the gates,” Tythus called up to the guards. “We’ll engage them on the ground.”