“Just be careful.” She agreed more quickly than I’d thought she might. She’d eaten a larger dinner than usual and her eyelids drooped as she spoke. She was asleep before I’d finished opening the shutters. Leaving her behind felt odd, like I was leaving a limb behind. Thrana had been a part of my life for such a short time, yet now she felt inseparable from it.

I reached for the roof and pulled myself up. It was easier now, the power thrumming in my bones and giving me strength. I’d eaten another of the cloudtree berries in my sash, and it boosted my strength further. The rain had abated to a light drizzle, thankfully, though the tiles were slippery beneath my feet. I’d left the oilskin cloak in my room in favor of tighter, more maneuverable clothing.

My father would have sneered at me. “An Emperor dressed like an assassin, climbing roofs? Beneath the dignity of the station.”

But I couldn’t care too much for dignity.

I’d noted the location of the governor’s suites as the servants guided us through the palace, so I knew they were nestled up close to the mountain’s base. Even through the rain, I could see a few lights still lit in city windows. From the jungle and the mountains came the faint calls of nocturnal animals, whooping messages into the darkness. Hualin Or was a beautiful place. There was a part of me that wanted to take Thrana, to venture into those mountains, to leave my responsibilities behind.

The tiles clicked beneath my feet as I made my way across the rooftop. Guards on the walls didn’t bother to turn around, their gazes fixed on the outside world. I supposed, in this way, they were not too dissimilar from constructs. The governor’s suites did not have a balcony, though when I peered over the edge of the roof, I could see large, shuttered windows and a wide ledge. I lowered myself over the roof and onto the ledge, clinging tightly to the shutters. I tested them. Locked, of course.

I’d noted the design of the shutters in my room, though. It was simple enough. I’d borrowed a knife from one of my handmaidens. Slipping it between the shutters, I felt for the clasp I knew was there. And then slowly, carefully, I jiggled the lever free.

The shutter swung open on creaky hinges, and I cringed at the sound – waiting, my breath held, for any cry of alarm. When it did not come, I let out my breath and stepped into the governor’s sitting room.

There was something oddly clean and sterile about the place. There were no books lying about, no loose sheets of paper, no bottles of ink or errant pairs of slippers. Perhaps Wailun’s maidservants were particularly meticulous, or she was particularly demanding.