“Is that a command, Eminence?” She said it teasingly, and was rewarded with the rumble of his laugh.

“Just a request. You’ve been here nearly all night.”

She looked back at the construct before her, the shards of bone laid out on a sheet next to it. She’d grouped them in clusters of commands, taking her time carving the words, making sure everything was exact. “If the Alanga are truly going to return, as you say, we’ll need more than just one old artifact.”

“It’s more than that—”

“I know. But we can’t rely on it. We shouldn’t. The constructs can bridge the gap.”

He bent his head again, scraping his teeth against her skin, and all the commands she’d been holding in her mind dissolved in a rising tide of heat. “Can it wait one night?” he said, his voice thick.

She wiped her hands on the cloth and turned. His dark eyes looked even darker by lamplight. “Perhaps just the one.”

A few drops of rain struck Nisong’s cheek, carried by the wind. She was back outside the governor’s house again, the smell of sandalwood gone. It took her a moment to reorient herself. The memories felt so real, so immediate. Even though she knew now that Shiyen was old and dead.

Had she been so long gathering mangoes on a remote island that she’d lost all ability to think? Their conquest didn’t have to end here. She was Nisong. She had once been the Emperor’s consort. And she had been the first one outside the Emperor’s family to learn the bone shard magic.

Coral’s hand was still on her back. Nisong shrugged her off. “No. We don’t burn the bodies.”

“No?” Leaf lifted a brow.

Nisong rose, let them carry Shell’s body away toward the beach. “We’ve left a few houses unburnt. Line the bodies up on their floors. And have several of the beasts round up the surviving villagers.”

7

Lin

Imperial Island

I watched from the window until Jovis and Mephi left the palace walls. I’d not had the chance to explore the secret cave before we’d chased the spy construct across the city. Jovis seemed happy to have a day off and I needed the day off from his watchful gaze.

Thrana brushed against my leg, her shoulders shaking. Her fur had grown back and was now thick and lush over her back, a darker shade of brown than Mephi’s fur, striped with black. The wounds where the tubes from the memory machine had pierced her had healed over. The physical signs of her confinement were gone.

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “We have to go back down to the room again.” I started for the door.