The air hung heavy with moisture that morning as Mairo watched Rimi sort through her collection of threads, selecting the finest strands for the princess's wedding attire. A soft cough escaped Rimi's lips – that same persistent cough Mairo had been hearing more frequently lately. Rimi quickly pressed her palm against her mouth, but not before Mairo caught the slight tremor in her shoulders.

"That cough again," Mairo said, trying to keep her voice casual while measuring herbs into her mortar. "Are you certain you haven't taken anything at the palace? Not even a sip of palm wine during the preparations?"

Rimi shook her head, her fingers still expertly weaving patterns that would soon adorn Princess Adanna. "Mairo. I don't eat or drink anything there." Another cough, smaller this time. "It's just this weather. You know how the rains always affect my chest."

Mairo nodded, but something felt off. This wasn't like Rimi's usual seasonal coughs. There was a hollow quality to it that made Mairo's skin prickle with unease. Through the window, she could see the palace torches from a far distance, dimming as the morning mist lingered, a constant reminder of how often Rimi now walked those grounds. The upcoming wedding to the coastal prince had turned the palace into a frenzy of activity, and as the princess's personal weaver, Rimi was caught in the midst of it all.

"The palace herbs are different from ours," Mairo said carefully, grinding her pestle with perhaps more force than necessary. "Some look similar but carry different spirits. I heard that last week, one of the courtiers had a strange reaction after drinking a brew from the palace kitchens. Said she saw shadows where there were none. Even their scent alone can..."

"Mairo," Rimi interrupted with a tired smile, "you worry too much. The rains will pass, and so will this cough." She held up a particularly intricate piece of weaving. "What do you think? Is it fit for a princess marrying into the coastal kingdoms?"

Mairo studied the pattern – waves interlaced with traditional Obiako symbols, a clever melding of both cultures. Yet she couldn't shake the memory of how Rimi's hand had trembled when she'd reached for water earlier.

"It's beautiful," she said truthfully. "But perhaps you should rest tomorrow. I could speak with Amadi, tell him to tell the princess that you need–"

Another cough cut through her words, this one sharp enough to make Rimi drop her weaving. For a moment, just a moment, Mairo saw fear flicker across Rimi's face. But she quickly smoothed her features and reached for her work again.

"The wedding is too close," Rimi said softly. "There's still so much to do. I can't rest now."

Mairo watched her return to her weaving, her shoulders slightly hunched as if warding off another cough. Outside, the rain continued to fall, and somewhere in the distance, palace drums announced another day closer to the royal wedding. She turned back to her herbs, grinding them with renewed purpose. Something wasn't right, and this time, she wouldn't wait for disaster to strike before acting.

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The afternoon sun had burned away the last traces of rain when Rimi entered Princess Adanna's chambers. The princess sat by the window, her fingers idly tracing patterns in a bowl of beads meant for her wedding attire. She brightened at the sight of her friend.

"Rimi! I was beginning to think the rain had kept you away today."

"A little rain won't stop me from my duties, my princess," Rimi smiled, settling down with her weaving materials.

"How many times must I tell you? When we're alone, I'm just Adanna." The princess moved to sit closer, picking up a strand of thread to examine Rimi's latest work. "Though soon I'll be someone's wife, living by the sea." Her voice softened. "I've been thinking about that – about leaving."

Rimi's fingers paused in their weaving. Another small cough escaped her, which she tried to suppress.

"Are you nervous about the coastal kingdoms?" she asked.

"Yes... and no." Adanna set down the wrapper and took Rimi's hands in hers. "I'm nervous about leaving everything I know behind. Which is why..." She squeezed Rimi's hands gently. "I want you to come with me."

The words hung in the air between them. Rimi's heart skipped a beat.

"Think about it," Adanna continued eagerly. "You'd have your own quarters in the palace by the sea. Your weaving would be sought after by all the coastal nobility. We could walk on the sea sands at sunset, just as we used to walk in the palace gardens. You wouldn't have to live on the outskirts anymore, gathering crops and selling medicines..."

For a moment, Rimi allowed herself to imagine it – the crash of waves, the salt-tinged air, a life of comfort and creativity within palace walls. She had never seen the sea before. She had heard them only from stories her grandfather had told her of his travels. No more worrying about the next harvest, no more long days of labor. But then she thought of Mairo, remembered that terrible night they fled Garin Gabas together, how they'd protected each other, kept each other alive. She thought of all the times Mairo had saved her, including just weeks ago in the forest. Their bond wasn't just friendship – it was survival, trust, family.

"Adanna," she said softly, using the princess's name as requested. "You honor me beyond words with this offer. But..." She looked down at their joined hands. "My life is here. With my sister. We made a pledge to each other, and I can't break that. Not even for the sea."

Adanna's face fell slightly, but understanding filled her eyes. "The loyalty between you two... sometimes I envy it. You never speak of what happened before you came to Obiako, but I see how you look after each other." She released Rimi's hands and stood, moving to her window that overlooked the village. "But know this – the offer stands. Before the wedding, during it, even after... if you ever change your mind, there will always be a place for you in my new home."

"Thank you," Rimi whispered, her throat tight with emotion. She returned to her weaving, fingers working the familiar patterns that would adorn her friend on her wedding day. Another small cough shook her frame.

"Are you well?" Adanna asked, concern crossing her features. "That cough..."

"Just the weather," Rimi assured her quickly. "Now, tell me more about this prince of yours. I want to weave elements of his kingdom's symbols into your outfit, to honor both traditions..."

As they fell into discussion about wedding preparations, Rimi pushed away thoughts of both the persistent cough and the life she'd just declined. She had made her choice long ago, on a dark night fleeing from Garin Gabas. Some bonds, she knew, were stronger than the allure of palace life, stronger even than the call of the sea.

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