Her gaze flicked to me. “The assassin took us both by surprise. You’re more than capable. But no more audiences without a more thorough search for weapons,” she said. “If so many people will hate me no matter what I try to do for them, then there is no one I can really trust. The Alanga will hate me because I am a Sukai. And everyone else will hate me for my bone shard magic.” Or her other magic, if they ever found out. She didn’t have to say that part aloud.

She might have had eyes just like Emahla’s, but I’d never seen Emahla’s eyes look so sad. “I’d say you can trust me, but as your Captain of the Imperial Guard, I’m duty-bound to tell you not to.”

It was meant lightly, and she took it so, her solemn expression breaking into a smile brighter than a dry season day. But my heart felt like the carcasses sunk inside crab traps. She couldn’t trust me. I was sending messages about her and her plans to the Shardless Few. I’d already composed a letter about the cavern beneath the palace, the small glimpses I’d caught of notes and flasks and strange books, the assassin, Lin’s plans to visit the islands. I’d thought when I’d come here that I’d be toppling an Empire, freeing the people from the Tithing Festival. But she’d already done that. My own convictions had scattered to the winds like seeds, and there was no fertile ground on which to plant them again. Should I still be loyal to the Shardless Few, whose leader had motives I did not know? Or should I hold myself to the oath I’d made to Lin?

When I didn’t return her smile, she sobered. She rose to her feet, Thrana mirroring her movements. “We’re still in the grounds of the palace, and there are no more visitors today. You don’t have to follow me everywhere. Have your guards watch the walls. Do something else. Visit the city. You almost died protecting me – take a break.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that an order, Eminence?”

“Just a strong suggestion.” And then she swept away, her silken tunic rippling in the breeze, leaving the smell of jasmine behind.

Mephi let out the tiniest of snores. I nudged him with my foot. He grunted and sighed, readjusting. Despite my woes, I couldn’t help the swell of affection I felt for him.

“If I slept as easily as you, I might be just as happy.”