“Trader, you mean?” I laughed, my nervousness making it come out high and strange. “I have faith in you and your fellow Koru. But if something should happen, I want you to know—”

“Hush.” She smiled underneath her heavy, sunset-colored makeup. “You’ve yet to see us in action. Nothing will happen.”

As we traveled to the Palace, the beige, tiered structure shimmered proudly in the center of the city as if calling me to it. The blue temple on the top was a beehive of people swarming in and out of the arched doorways.

What is going on? That many people were not usually up in the temple this time of day.

As a prickle of unease swept through me, I said a quick prayer to Selu for our safety. For what I knew we’d face when we arrived. For what I didn’t know.

The spectacle of our brides created a commotion as we walked. Whistles and lewd comments followed us as we trudged down the dusty lanes toward the Palace. Dagan, dressed as a trader, with thick kohl around his eyes, his beard streaked with gray, rings on his fingers, and a pouch around his waist to make him appear well fed, strode with confidence at the front of the line.

The Koru wore dejected expressions and hung their heads, giving some of the people of Alu the bravery to come up and grab hold of them, planting sloppy kisses on their ears or pressing their bodies against them.

“Stop it!” I yelled ferociously when one man grabbed Ummi’s breast under her cloak, but Ummi nailed him so hard with her forehead, she snapped his nose. Blood gushed over his lips and down his chin while his friends laughed.

I reached forward to comfort Ummi, reminded of Uruku’s rough paws on my own body, but her chin was firm. She glanced over her shoulder at the man who’d grabbed her.

“He’s received his due.”

“Not too much longer,” I whispered as we passed by a man and his sons, who were running away from the Palace so fast, they didn’t spare us a second glance.

And they weren’t alone in their haste.

As we neared the city center and the huge sandstone Libbu wall, more and more people crowded the roads headed away, tugging their children’s hands, expressions twisted in fear. Screams resonated from inside the Libbu, and the unmistakable clang of metal against metal rang out in the morning air.

Ahead of us, Dagan and the other trader stopped, and Dagan held up his big hand, turning toward the sounds.

Abandoning my post near the rear of the line, I trotted up to him. “What is it?” A clash followed by a scream made us all flinch. “What is that?”

“It’s war, Kammani. Listen.” His mouth went grim, and his left hand strayed to the daggers on his belt.

“Dear Selu.” My hand flew to my throat. Because from where I stood, a few streets away from the Palace Libbu, people streaming past us, abandoning their belongings, their baskets for trade and begging, it suddenly dawned on me what I was hearing, too. Clangs of sicklesword against sicklesword. Shouts. Ragged shrieks. Ummi jogged up next to me, bringing Humusi and the other Koru with her, round eyes watchful.