In the courtyard, the guards had lined up. Some had already made their way to the ships and the supplies had been carted into cargo holds, but the remaining contingent of guards were meant to act as an escort. They’d make a bit of a spectacle of it – people loved spectacle. The rain of the wet season had died down to a drizzle this morning. Once in a while, the sun even peeked through the clouds. It was an auspicious day to leave for battle, Ranami could admit that.

Tythus waited at the head of the guards. His wife and two children stood off to the side. In the time since Phalue had taken over as governor, she’d had them to dinner twice at the palace. Ranami found the woman similar to Tythus: good-natured, kind, humble. It was a different sort of pairing than Ranami and Phalue, but worked just as well. Better, perhaps.

Tythus’s wife had her hands on the shoulders of her two young sons, one of whom looked about to cry.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Phalue murmured to Tythus as they approached him. “There’s a lot you’re leaving behind.”

“I’m not special,” he said with a shrug. “We’re all leaving loved ones behind. They’re certainly safer here than at Gaelung.” He looked to the sky. “Best be leaving soon, before the weather changes. You never know, in a wet season. There’s always a storm around the corner. May the winds be favorable.”

“And the skies clear,” Phalue responded.

Ranami smoothed the turmeric-yellow skirts of her dress with her free hand. It was the same dress she’d worn when they’d wed, trimmed now to above the ankle to avoid the mud. It felt odd to wear a celebratory dress to see her wife off to battle. She didn’t feel celebratory.

Phalue led them through the palace gates and onto the switchbacks. They’d turned two corners when Ayesh appeared from around the bend, shield strapped to her arm, bag in hand.

She froze when she saw them, her eyes darting from one side to the other. For a moment, Ranami thought she might dart into the bushes. There was no reason for her to run, but Ranami understood how this looked to a skittish street urchin – a contingent of fifty guards, all in armor, all marching in unison down the path, inevitable as an approaching tsunami.

“Wait,” Ranami called out.

The guards behind them halted.

Phalue shifted from foot to foot. “You should go talk to her,” she said. “I was the one who tried to take her bag. And you… you’re both orphans. Can you, please?”