Mhera was restless. Although she was certain Aun's salves and potions were saving her from a great deal of pain and speeding her recovery, too, she was tired of being cooped up after just one conscious day in bed.

While Mhera could stand with Aun's help, her wound made it difficult to walk; aside from the problem of the pain, she did not wish to appear in public bent over, with a grimace on her face. She was not too proud to be weak before Aun or Matei, but it had taken a great deal of effort for her to cultivate a strong image as an empress, and she would not compromise it simply for the sake of being stubborn. So she stayed in her chambers, and Matei relented to her request that they divide their responsibilities. He handled their public work, permitting correspondence to be directed to Mhera.

It was late morning on the third day after her attack, and Mhera was resting against her pillows, sorting through the letters and missives stacked on the table near the bed. She did not anticipate any troubling surprises. Trade to Karelin had stabilized, and even the day-to-day operations of the government—the arms of justice, the gathering of taxes, the settling of disputes—were working well. Most of the drama of late had been confined to the council chamber, and poor Matei was having to deal with that all on his own.

Mhera skimmed through some notes on the palace accounts—income from taxes, expenses for wages, food, and materials. The government of the Holy City had been standing responsible for the costs of rebuilding the Arcborn Quarter of the city, which was heavy and expensive work, as she noted from the ledgers.

She moved on to the next item in the stack, a folded parchment hastily written in a hand she'd come to recognize as that of the chief architect, Master Dressic. He wrote that matters were progressing as well and as quickly as could be hoped, but a collapse of a scaffold had injured two men the previous day. One had a broken arm, and the other a head wound that might prove to be fatal. With a pang of sadness, Mhera made a note to inquire about their families. She knew, as she had not known as a young noblewoman, that a man's strong back in the Arcborn Quarter could mean the difference between comfort and starvation for his wife and his children.

As she reached for another letter, a knock sounded at the door. Mhera raised her head, laying the document aside. "Come in," she called, not without some hesitation. There were now two guards posted outside of her room, but she did not know if she would ever trust again that she was wholly safe.

It was Captain Alban. As he crossed the threshold, he made a reverent bow. "Your Grace."

"Captain," said Mhera with real pleasure. "It is so good to see your face."

As he straightened from his bow, Alban spared Mhera a genuine smile, but it slid from his face almost at once. "I am glad to see Your Grace resting; it pains me to intrude upon Your Grace's convalescence."

"You are not an intrusion. Will you sit?"

He inclined his head in gratitude, but then shook it. "Thank you, Your Grace, but I come simply to deliver a message; His Grace is in a private meeting with a councilor and I did not think it wise to wait."

Mhera's heart fell. "What is it?"

"As Your Grace is no doubt aware, we have reestablished communication networks with the armed forces loyal to the Crown in the far reaches of the empire. It has been challenging to connect with those who were stationed in Narr."

"Yes," Mhera said, "but I know you have been doing what you can, Captain."

"We received word from Narr this morning, Your Grace."

The expression on Captain Alban's face betrayed that the word had not been good. Mhera shifted on her pillow, knitting her brow. "Go on."

"The sellswords His—ah—Emperor Korvan employed in Narr are no longer loyal to the Crown; they have traded allegiances, and they said so in no uncertain terms."

Mhera frowned. "And did they say who has their loyalty now?"

"Not in so many words, Your Grace, but we have received word of skirmishes along the border between Penrua and Narr. Furthermore, we have been unable to get into contact with the forces employed by Narrian kings known to be loyal to the late emperor, and we have record of one hundred thousand men-at-arms in factions allied to the royal houses there."

This news was worse than Mhera had feared. There was no specific reason to be afraid, but she was filled with trepidation and the sense that a shadow had fallen over the palace—a shadow cast by something impossibly large and devastating. "Captain, tell me what is on your mind," she said.

Alban looked at Mhera for a moment, and she sensed, not for the first time, that he was assessing her, taking her measure. She felt she had built a relationship with him; she had shown him respect and trust, and she did not think it misplaced. She had no reason to believe he was disloyal or that he kept secrets from her, especially now, when he'd sought her out in place of Matei to deliver this news. Seeming to come to a decision, the captain shook his head. "I do not like it, Your Grace. Skirmishes today may mean battles tomorrow, and it is not encouraging that we've lost contact with our armed allies there. If I might be so bold as to make a suggestion, Your Grace, it would be prudent to reach out to the Narrian rulers."

Mhera had never been to Narr. The continent was connected to Penrua by way of a narrow isthmus and consisted of numerous small kingdoms ruled by their own royal lines. Generations ago, Narr had been brought under the wing of Penruan emperor, and since then, its leaders had been variously loyal to their foreign overlord, but for the most part, they had been left to govern themselves. From what Mhera understood, which she felt was precious little, their connection to Narr was formal, but in a practical sense had more to do with trade and political alliances than matters of day-to-day government.

As such, the Arcborn Rebellion had not caused conflict in Narr—to her knowledge, at least. There were Arcborn in Narr, that she knew, but they were a sliver of the population, whereas in Penrua, they outnumbered the Starborn two to one. All the same, the Arcborn in Narr faced the same rules and restrictions as those on the main continent of the Penruan empire, and it had been a distant dream for Matei to extend the revolution into the southern continent.

She and Matei had been in intermittent contact with some of the kings and queens there, but had made no official foray into diplomatic relations. Practicality had forced them to focus in the first several months of their rule on the Holy City as they enacted their sweeping reforms. They had only begun to talk about how best to extend Matei's idea of an integrated council into the countryside and the other, larger settlements in other regions of Penrua, where local nobility and officials served as the hands of the sovereigns. Narr had been a distant, future concern.

Now, Mhera felt foolish beyond measure. After all, she had not forgotten that Prince Koren's flight had been rumored to have taken him southward to Narr.

"I will certainly see to it," Mhera said. "Thank you, Captain. If it is not inconvenient, I think you should endeavor to catch Emperor Matei after the council meeting. I will speak with him, but I think he would like to hear this news from your lips." What Mhera did not say was that Matei might know what to ask Alban. She knew there were practical matters to consider, things Matei would know to order, but she was still learning what it meant to be a leader, and she did not always know what was right.

"It is no inconvenience, Your Grace. I believe this is a matter of great importance."

"Then I shall leave you to it, Captain. Thank you for your message."

The captain bowed again. "I and my men wish Your Grace a speedy recovery, and our prayers to the goddess reflect our hopes," he said.

Touched, Mhera smiled at him. "Thank you, Alban. Thank you truly."

He spared a smile for her as he backed out of the room.