He went to the window. The air was cold against his bare skin. The fire in the hearth was low. He gazed out at the lighted square.

Saw no one.

“What is it?” Ghrasia asked. She propped herself up on one elbow. She was captivating in the low light. The moons’ light made her skin glow. Her hair was unbound and spilled across the sheets. It reminded him suddenly of Meyna. A lifetime ago.

“Thought I heard something,” he said. He climbed into bed next to her, drawn back to the warmth of their shared bodies.

She took his scarred hands and kissed them.

He made to pull away, suddenly self-conscious, but she held his wrists. “What really happened in that camp?” she said. She pressed her thumbs to his smooth palms. “I know the stories, but I also know stories lie.”

Ahkio pulled his hands away a second time. She released him. He traced the lines of her cheek. “My mother took us to a big refugee camp on the other side of the Liona Stronghold. I still don’t know why. She said it was to enlighten people. Maybe she was searching for someone.”

Ghrasia shook her head. “Your mother and I… had a falling-out. Soon after you were born.”

“She took us with her,” he said. “A mad thing, by all accounts. We lived in that refugee camp for years while she met with all sorts of people – farm workers and scullery drudges and servants. I don’t remember what they talked about. But there was an uprising in the camp. She was certainly a part of it. How much, I don’t know. But when the rebellion came, the Dorinahs were ready.”

“They burned the camp,” Ghrasia said.

“Yes,” he said. He flexed his fingers. “I still remember. There was this legionnaire. She looked old to me, but I guess she must have been young, maybe as old as I am now, and it was so strange. She looked Dhai. Mostly Dhai, anyway. And she torched our house and the houses of those around us. My father went out to kill the legionnaire, but she cut him down.”

“I’m sorry,” Ghrasia said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have–”

“It’s all right,” he said. He expected his hands to tremble, but they did not. “I didn’t know how to use a sword. So I ran back inside the house to find my mother. She was ill. When I got in… she was burning. Her hair was on fire, her clothes…” He could still smell the stink of her burning hair and flesh, even now. “So I just grabbed her.” He held out his hands. “I don’t know what they burned the houses with. Some tirajista-created thing, maybe, because it stuck to me. The fire just licked up my arms. My own hair caught fire.”

“Did Ora Nasaka really–”