“Oma’s rising. We’ve been born under the wrong star.”

Ghrasia stared at the floor a long time, trying to untangle her thoughts. Javia had spoken often of Oma and the collision of worlds written of in The Book of Oma. Legends and mysticism, Javia had said. But Ghrasia knew better. Far greater minds than her own had written The Book of Oma many thousands of years ago. It was the only guide they had now. She murmured a prayer to Tira, the star she had been born under. She wished, not for the first time, that she had been born in another time, under some other star.

“You understand I won’t be an aggressor,” Ghrasia said. “I defend the Dhai. I don’t go out and murder people for no cause or for political gain, no matter what star’s in the sky.”

“You insult me,” Nasaka said, but her tone was flat. “I have others for that.”

“Your casual attitude toward the living makes me question your own humanity.”

Nasaka frowned. “You are as troublesome as–”

“Who, Javia?”

“Let’s pretend to be friends, Ghrasia. Do I need to bring up your daughter’s offenses again? Let’s not argue about the sanctity of life.”

“No,” Ghrasia said. It never took long for Nasaka to bring up her daughter. Murder was murder, no matter the circumstances; Ghrasia knew that better than anyone. But Madah was her only daughter and had hardly known better when she was twelve. Mistakes happened. Ghrasia should never have gone to Nasaka for help when she found Madah standing over her cousin’s body.

“You have my loyalty,” Ghrasia said. “You know that. But loyalty doesn’t mean I won’t argue with you. I’m not foolish enough to think I won the Pass War on my own, but I know how to lead people, the sort of people who don’t like you very much. So, though you may not like me at all, I would ask for your respect.”

“You know you have it.”

Ghrasia smiled. It improved her mood just by forcing it; an old trick she learned from her mother. “Is there anything else, Ora Nasaka?”

“Keep an eye on him for me,” Nasaka said. “He knows you were a confidant of his mother’s. He will trust you. I need to know what he confides.”

“As you like,” Ghrasia said, but the words tasted bad. “I’m going to go prepare for our departure.

Nasaka turned away. Her usual dismissal.

Ghrasia made her way back downstairs. Elaiko shadowed her until she reached the second floor, asking if she needed food or tea.

“I’ve been assisted enough,” Ghrasia said, and she failed to hide the exhaustion in her voice. It was not going to get any easier in Garika.