He turned to look at her, suddenly, intensely present. ‘No, I mean this is all wrong. The way they talked to you, the way they made you act, it’s all wrong. It never used to be this way.’

‘I agree. Yadavendra’s a fool to arm children and tell them to hassle every poor soul on the Godroad. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he wanted to provoke a war.’

Arkav continued to stare at her. ‘The Sapphire are broken, like me. Are you going to fix them too, Pari?’

And what else could she say, looking into those sad, bleak eyes, but: ‘Yes.’

The last time they’d met had been less formal, but while her mother was between lives, Anuja was acting as High Lord of her house, and so they observed the proper protocols.

At the doorway to the throne room, Vasin stopped while the servant sang of his arrival. Anuja’s attendants sang back that Anuja was here and ready to receive him. Only then did he step forward, planting himself on the threshold.

‘Lady Anuja Ruby, hand of your High Lord, I stand at your door and ask that it might be opened. I stand within your walls and ask that they might shelter me. I stand with a hand outstretched in friendship, and ask that you might take it.’

Anuja was seated on a wide padded couch. She too was bound in silk, white, a high-necked gown fitted over it, with broad sleeves cuffed in Wrath Tear red, and lined in Vexation’s darker shade. Had he not known it was there, he would have missed the hint of gold on her cheeks. Her left eye was unadorned to make the golden legend around her right blaze in contrast. It struck him as odd that she had not risen to greet him. Perhaps the servant had been instructed to be disrespectful, a prelude to the true insult.

And yet when she spoke, her voice was warm. ‘Lord Vasin Sapphire, sky master, Ruby-friend. Fly to me as you did on your last visit and you will find my hand is ready to clasp yours, tight and true.’

She raised her hand and he strode across the room until he stood before her. Still, she did not rise, so he bowed as he took it. They locked eyes as well as fingers.

Vasin was never the best at reading faces but even he could see how tired she looked, the fierceness of gaze that he usually admired seeming to quiver like a nervous candle.

Anuja gestured for him to sit, and the servants arranged his gown around him before turning back his sleeves. Then they placed a selection of dumplings on a low table between them, and poured two glasses of sweet wine before retreating to the edges of the room.

‘I was sorry to hear about your mother,’ he began.

‘Thank you. We sorely miss her strength.’