What the girl had overheard about the preparations to flee could come back to haunt Phalue. It was bad enough that it was a source of palace gossip. What if Gio found out? All it would take was one well-placed rumor to undermine Phalue’s place as ruler. It would stir unrest and foment panic – exactly what they’d been trying to avoid. Ranami knew the ways words could be used against people. If Gio had a source of information in the palace, he could twist what happened inside it, the decisions that were made. And then, no matter Phalue’s intentions, no matter how hard she tried, there would always be those who saw her as they’d seen her father.

The people of Nephilanu loved Phalue, but love could quickly sour under the right conditions.

She slipped from the kitchen and made for the courtyard. Ranami believed in the Shardless Few; she believed in what they wanted for the Empire. Phalue had shifted her position to better align with their goals. And still that was not enough for Gio. If Phalue would not protect herself, Ranami would do it for her.

She took her oilskin cloak from the hook by the door, swung it around her shoulders and stepped into the courtyard. The rain had broken, but there was always the chance for more. Ayesh disappeared beneath the arch of the gateway and Ranami hurried after her.

The vegetation outside the palace walls had grown thick and lush since the wet season had begun. Bushes that had once seemed brittle and dead sprouted fresh green leaves. Grass and ferns grew past Ranami’s waist. She had to duck and sway to avoid the reaching branches.

Ayesh trudged ahead of her, bag slung over one shoulder. Ranami lingered behind, keeping her footfalls light. Despite Phalue’s admonition that she would need to learn to trust an orphan if they were to adopt, Ranami wasn’t sure she could trust this one. How much did they know about the girl really? She was clearly a gutter orphan and yes, she’d been in a bad way when they’d found her. Her story about Unta had seemed real enough. But Ranami knew what desperation was like.

When the bookseller she’d eventually apprenticed with had realized she knew how to read and had offered a place in his home, she’d pretended more knowledge than she’d actually had. She’d been convincing at it too. Ranami had picked up bits and pieces from before her mother had died, but it wasn’t any impressive amount. Whenever the bookseller had left, or had his back turned, she’d thrown herself into the task of learning, filling in the gaps of her knowledge until she met the standard she’d first pretended to.

What were a few lies when you could fill your belly at night and lay your head somewhere safe?