“His monastery was on Unta. He gave me a letter signed by his masters. He says he and his companion have a more mature bond and don’t need to be so close. They’re called ossalen. His is waiting for him in the mountains above the palace and he will call him when he’s done here. And he wants to help.” Steam rose from her mug, wisping into the air just below her chin. “Ragan lost everyone he knew when Unta sank, so have a little bit of compassion, won’t you? You said, when you came here, that you wanted to help. And I trusted you.”

And she shouldn’t have. But I couldn’t say that.

Lin sighed, her gaze going to the ceiling. “I can’t send him away. Jovis, we need him. If he’s anywhere near as powerful as we are, then we can use his help in the coming battle. I need Hualin Or’s and Gaelung’s support, but we’re losing soldiers as fast as we recruit them. My general sent word: they’ll arrive at Gaelung just after we do, and hopefully they’ll be able to handle the army on their own. I’m trying to climb a muddy hill and I’m sliding back every three steps. I might need you and Ragan to fight.”

A knock sounded at the door. “Eminence, it’s Ikanuy.”

“Come in,” Lin said, her gaze still on me.

Ikanuy entered, her gaze going back and forth between me and Lin. “A representative is here to see you,” she said. “From the construct army. He is here to negotiate on behalf of his leader. He is under the care of the palace guard.”

Lin breathed in deeply, holding out a hand to call Thrana back to her side. The beast sidled up to her, slipping her head beneath Lin’s hand and into her lap. “Send him in. I can receive him here. Have the servants bring tea and refreshments. Jovis and Mephi, stay, but send in two more guards as well.”

Ikanuy left to obey.

One of my guards entered first, followed by the construct army’s envoy. He was a thin man, unassuming, in simple clothes. He wore his black hair pulled into a bun, and his long face, though not old, showed the signs of being lived in. I found myself studying him for signs that he was a construct. The only thing I could discern was the subtle shift in skin tone from his darker face to a lighter neck – and that could have been a happenstance of birth or sunlight. And then all I could think about was how the previous Emperor might have hacked the head off of one body and stitched it to another. Gruesome.