Lanna stumbled up the rutted track, legs and back throbbing. Mud flaked from the skin of her arms and legs, leaving a dusty trail that blended with the hard mud of the road. 'Path,' she corrected herself. Under her feet lay earth, the path paved with nothing more than frequent use. Mika said roads in towns were made with stone.

'Must be hard on the feet,' Lanna muttered.

The flooded fields either side of the path waited to be ploughed and seedlings pushed into the grey and brown silt. The whole village helped with the planting, all aiding each other to get as many terraced paddies completed a day as possible. Lanna and her family laboured dawn to dusk. They had gained the respect of the villagers through their ability to work for hours without rest, though until they took the vow, they would remain outsiders.

Lanna rolled her shoulders and rubbed the bridge of her nose, wincing as little rolls of skin sloughed off. The brutal sun afflicted them all. Durrick refused to strip to his smallclothes as the other boys did. While he'd spared his skin from burning, he'd instead suffered heat sickness and, to his shame, fainted. The villagers had known what to do though and he'd been better after a day of rest and plenty of water.

A grin crept across Lanna's face, cracking the mud on her cheeks. She was never going to let her brother forget the fact that he'd passed out.

Sibling rivalry aside, the sun proved as brutal as the Southern ice, though the villagers insisted that the climate was mild for the time of year and there would be some light rain to bring the seedlings on before the dry season began in earnest. This was the second planting of the year; if the weather dried fast enough after the rains there may even be a third harvest.

Chickens scattered before her dragging walk and she smiled at the small birds, clucking with umbrage. The rooster eyed her with avian disgust, red comb flopping over to one side like a flaccid ox udder.

'Come on,' she hissed. 'Your spurs against my sandals.'

The bird squawked to his harem of hens and stalked away. The hens ambled after with more reluctance.

'Coward,' she grunted, then shook her head. She wasn't here to intimidate chickens. The ancestors might decide to punish her for dithering.

Lanna needed to get the paddy mud off her legs and make herself presentable. Tonight she consented to become an Imperial.

She shouldered open the door to her hut. Hot, stifling air slammed into her and she gagged, chest wheezing as she stepped into her home and opened the shutters, hoping no insects would crowd in.

Lanna moved behind the bamboo screen and stripped off, then wiped her body down with tepid water. The door rattled open while she dressed in a clean tunic and Durrick stomped in, covered in mud and grey clay. Lanna peered around the screen, face carefully neutral.

'Bad day?'

'Mud fight,' he grunted. 'They ganged up on me. Five against one I could handle, but twelve?'

Lanna chuckled, stepping around the screen. Her brother cast his blue eyes down to the ground and she smiled at his mud-matted hair. 'What started it?' she asked. The sodden and mud-stained rag she had used to clean herself floated to the surface of her washing bowl, near indistinguishable from the brown water. Pulling a face she grabbed him a clean rag, folding it over a fresh bowl of water.

'You,' he muttered, moving past her and patting her cheek, smearing mud on her face. She rolled her eyes, busying herself with wiping the mud away and attempting to tame her brown curls with her fingers.

'Who have I offended this time?'

'No one,' came the reply followed by the sound of splashing water. 'I was offended.' More splashing and a hiss. 'They were speaking of you taking vows tonight. Seems a few have taken a liking to you.'

She snorted and shook her head. 'Well, thank you for defending my honour, brother dear.'

'I mean it,' he protested, poking a clean face out from behind the screen. 'They treat their women like oxen here.' His face creased in a frown.

She lifted a brow. 'Ah, so one of them wants to shaft me under the peach trees? Make a real Imperial woman of me?' She folded her arms and felt an echo of her brother's anger fizz through her.

'Several of them do. Most women are already bought and paid for in this place.'

She winced. Neither of them liked the idea of a dowry. It had a whiff of slavery.

Southerners and slavery did not go well together: according to clan history, her people had worked for centuries under the yoke of the Augs before starting a war to free themselves. A war the Empire had not joined until the clans had been nearly annihilated.

That was why Southerners came to the Empire – they owed the south a debt, even though four hundred years had passed, as without the Southern sacrifice, the Empire would have been subjugated. Treated as less than human, exploited and repressed.

She offered Durrick a grin, then gestured to the hut around her. 'Well, I'll be fine. We can't afford to sell me off. I guess we must depend on you for the family to rise in rank.'

He vanished back behind the screen, grumbling under his breath.

By the time Durrick organised himself, the shadows had lengthened outside, the crickets in full obnoxious song.

They traipsed up the rutted path to a small paved area at the back of the village, the winnowing yard cleared of stooks and shocks of rice for the evening.

Lanna fell into step with her long-limbed brother in order to have a hushed conversation. Her father and mother walked ahead, hand in hand. Something they never would have done in the clans. Lanna couldn't help but smile. Her mother was moving much better. The Empire could be good for them.

She glanced at Durrick. Eyes like hard chips of ice greeted her own, his jaw tight. Lanna felt her heart squeeze and brushed the back of his hand with her own as they walked alongside each other. He hadn't changed his mind. He wouldn't take the vow with them.

'Will you not reconsider? We're immigrants. It's expected that we take to Imperial ways.'

He shook his shaggy blond head, hair still damp. 'No.' He looked up at her and sighed. 'This place, these people. It's all so...' He searched for the word. 'Easy.' He frowned as if not satisfied.

She understood. After two months she felt almost nostalgic. The homesickness had eased, but they all had moments of yearning for endless skies and biting cold. Lanna realised what Durrick didn't say: he planned on leaving.

Her heart shuddered. What would she do without her beloved tormentor? He was supposed to stay, be near. Teach her children how to fish, skin, hunt and curse. She would teach his daughters to gut fish and give him attitude. Durrick wasn't ugly. In the south, once grown, he would have been chosen several times over to sire children. Lanna's condition deterred most, but Durrick showed no sign of her malady.

'You suffer here more than I.' She glanced at her brother again out of the corner of her eye.

'Yes.' Durrick's teeth tapped together, biting off the word.

'What will you do?'

He gave her a stiff smile and tugged at a curl near her ear. 'I haven't decided. I have a mother already, Lanna; I don't need another. Stop fretting.'

She smirked and nodded.

On the winnowing yard, planks of wood with bamboo frames dotted the close-fitting stone floor. Upon the makeshift tables lay a myriad of dishes: some small and delicate, containing rich dipping sauces; others large and piled high with steamed dumplings and fried vegetables. A whole smoked fish took pride of place, caught fresh in the still waters of the flooded rice paddies that morning.

Lanna didn't enjoy the earthy flavour of the local freshwater fish. It tasted nothing like the fish that came from her father's nets.

Imperials didn't eat meat, but this didn't extend to fish; as the only flesh they could consume, they tolerated the flavour. What she missed most was red meat. Her mouth watered even thinking about it.

Most of the village was gathered. Lanna counted bodies but gave up after fifty. People moved as they chattered, shifting from the tables to where the Headman stood, then back. Children ran, threading through the bodies like minnows through a kelp forest. No one reprimanded them. Mothers smiled at rambunctious offspring and fathers looked on with wistful gazes. If Lanna had behaved that way as a child, she would have got a cuff.

Lanterns glowed in the fading twilight. The food smelt so tantalising Lanna needed to regulate her breathing. What if her stomach rumbled through her acceptance ceremony? Mika pushed past her uncle to attach herself to Lanna's side.

'Nervous?'

'A little. I didn't expect so many.'

'I told you.' Mika grinned up at Lanna, grabbing her by the wrist. The playful evening breeze teased Mika's long black hair into fluttering ribbons. 'Southerners don't stop here. They go north, to the cities. This is the first time we've accepted any. It's historic.' Mika bounced on her toes and pulled on Lanna's arm, much to the amusement of Lanna's parents.

'We're a little disappointed your brother is remaining an outsider.' Glancing at Durrick, Mika's brow creased, but she didn't remain perturbed for long; her smile spread back onto her face. 'He can change his mind whenever he wishes.'

Durrick, eyeing a large dish of smoked fish, grunted.

'Come.' Mika pulled harder on Lanna's arm. 'The sooner you make the vow the sooner we eat. Best get to it soon or your brother may lower the standing of your entire family by eating before the proper time.'

Lanna frowned. 'I'm never sure when you're joking.'

The next few moments were unremarkable for being so essential to their status.

Lanna and her parents knelt and pledged themselves to the village and the Emperor, Freya struggled with the pronunciation, the Headman patted them each on the shoulder, and that was it. People cheered, hugged; some even shed a few tears.

As the sun set, the feast began.

Dish after dish passed before Lanna. It would have been rude not to sample everything. Fingers greasy from a fried rice ball, she smiled as the Headman approached. She sat on the ground with her family, like everyone else. Small groups of gossiping people littered the winnowing yard, rugs and mats laid on the swept stone to keep the night chill from old bones.

The Headman brought over a porcelain bottle and presented it to her father with a flourish. Lanna missed most of what he said. The words sounded formal and awkward. The command to 'drink' however, she found easy to recognise.

The Headman poured the contents of the bottle into a small dish for each of them and gestured with enthusiasm for them to gulp the liquid. Lanna did so without hesitation. She thought it water at first, then the tart sweetness washed over her tongue and smoothed down her throat.

Glow-bugs hummed in the breeze. By the time her fifth dish of the drink touched her lips, half the children present were asleep. Was the celebration to go on all night? She felt somewhat humbled and not a little flattered. Someone sang near the tables and young women drummed their feet to provide a beat.

A baby howled only to be comforted by at least four people. The old, propped on cushions, smoked clay pipes and drank, while the adults nattered, the odd overloud laugh cutting through the low hum of voices and causing children sleeping on laps and mats to stir.

Lanna sighed. There were worse places. Not even the call of her homesick heart could interrupt her contentment. All would be well. Her family would adapt and make a home in this strange place.

Someone coughed, Lanna realised she looked at the stars. How long had her attention drifted?

Abashed, she looked in the direction of the sound to see Hemil standing at the edge of her mat, a small smirk on his lips. His dark eyes were fixed on her face and he gave a stiff bow.

'I'm here to offer my congratulations,' he said with another smile. 'It's good you have decided to stay in Eight-Nine-Two.' The village number rolled off his tongue with an odd lilt. It was a curiosity of the Empire that they used numbers for places. Villages had three digits; towns had two. There were five cities. The capital was One, more often called the First City.

Freya looked confused. Alric's blue eyes flicked from Lanna to Hemil and back. 'It's kind of you to say so,' Alric muttered with only a slight halt in his response. Durrick lay on his back in the middle of the mat and scowled up at Hemil, but the Imperial boy didn't seem fazed. He straightened and his lips quirked up further, as if to show Durrick his displeasure had no effect.

Hemil turned to her father. 'I would also ask if you would allow Lanna to accompany me for a short walk?'

Alric's mouth turned down at the corners, his eyes narrowing a fraction as his tone turned chilly. 'My daughter is of the south, boy. She decides whom she spends her time with. Not I.'

Hemil took a step back. 'I meant no insult,' he replied with another bow. 'Forgive me.'

Lanna decided to save him; he was Mika's brother. She should try to get to know the young men of the village. For all Durrick's warnings, she didn't want to be alone forever. She should compromise, try to fit in. Though she knew her efforts would be imperfect, she couldn't expect to be accepted if she didn't make an effort to behave as an Imperial woman would.

'I accept,' she said with a small smile. Hemil nodded, and a look of relief crossed his face before his confident and self-assured smile returned. He offered an arm.

Lanna blinked, not quite sure what to do. She ignored her chuckling father, smirking mother and grumbling brother.

Hemil raised an eyebrow.

Tired of her indecision she reached out and fastened a hand round his upper arm, as Mika had done to her on occasion. Hemil's lips flattened into a pressed line for a moment, as if to stop himself laughing, and her spirits sank.

'We won't go far,' he said to her parents, then walked from the winnowing yard. People chuckled as they passed other mats.

Hemil opened his stride and walked quickly through the village. Lanna tightened her grip on his upper arm, matching his pace with ease. The contoured muscles she could feel under her fingers surprised her. The tunic Hemil wore hung loose on his shoulders and gave no indication of what lay beneath.

The silence between them became awkward and Lanna winced. She had no idea how to ease the discomfort. What was she supposed to do?

He took her over the maze of paths between the paddy fields. The walkways were no more than streaks of shadow in the light of the twin moons. Lanna could make out the green haze in the flooded fields and her ears picked up on the splashes of mudfish. Glow-bugs sighed through the warm air, while the crickets sounded less boisterous and more melodic as the moons rose towards their zenith.

She felt a light touch on the hand that gripped Hemil's arm.

'If I may?' Long fingers pulled her hand from his arm.

'Like this,' he whispered and pulled her hand through the loop of his arm, so her hand rested on his bare forearm.

'Oh.' She felt her heart fall into utter gloom. 'I'm sorry.' Her mood must have bled into her tone because he pulled his arm closer to his side. Before she could speak, he started walking again.

'You don't do this in the clans?'

'No.'

Again, silence. Lanna inhaled slowly, attempting to calm herself, but her head felt light and dizzy. Hemil's free hand rubbed at the back of his neck.

'You have been kind to Mika – thank you. She has few friends her own age.'

Lanna's eyes widened in the darkness. Hemil continued as his steps slowed. 'She was lonely and considering an early marriage so she could move to a larger village, but she stayed. I think I have you to thank for that.'

'You marry far too young here,' Lanna blurted out.

He laughed, and the sound fell soft on her ears, lively and full of humour.

'Perhaps. Most don't think of a match till sixteen, but Mika is the Headman's daughter. She had offers of marriage at six.'

Lanna gasped and Hemil drew her to a halt, turning to face her so she could see his mouth move as he formed his next words. 'No, Lanna, we don't let children marry. If Father had accepted, the marriage wouldn't have taken place until she was of age.'

'How can a girl of six decide on a marriage?' Lanna asked. Her voice hitched and her words came out in a blur.

'She doesn't; her family decides.'

Lanna bit back an acidic reply, reminding herself where she was and with whom.

'Things are different in the south,' she said at last.

The knowing smirk crept back over his face. 'Yes, I heard from Mika. Multiple "chosen" was it?' He mispronounced the Southern word, but there was no mistaking his curt tone.

'That's right,' she muttered. 'One for each child you can have. It keeps us strong and stops weakness. The clan comes first, love ties and blood ties second.' She stood straighter, proudly reciting what she had been told since girlhood. 'Survival is sacrifice and raising children is difficult even in times of plenty. Clan elders choose which women breed and when. Women choose which man of the ones available.'

Hemil frowned in the soft light, shadows smoothing over his brow.

'Do the men not get a choice?'

Lanna shrugged. 'Women choose.'

The shade deepened on his face, driving her to explain. Her sentences came out chopped, words blurring. 'Women can die in birth and – and boy babies grow quick; more of them survive. Many more men, fewer women.'

She patted her chest with a free hand, desperate for him to understand. 'It's woman's duty to breed when told. Man's duty to stay till child is older, then wait to be chosen again. Some never chosen.' She flinched. Men who weren't chosen sometimes tried to take what wasn't offered. Lanna had learnt how to hit hard and run fast from her earliest days. It wasn't only the cold that could kill.

Hemil remained silent, dark eyes examining her face. At last, he spoke, simple words, his tone soft. 'What you say makes me sad.'

'Why?' Her lips puckered, bordering on a pout.

'To have a child with someone, then to have them discard you – does that not hurt?'

'It's what is needed. By three years the father leaves.'

'Your parents didn't do that? Is that why they came here?'

She hesitated, her brow wrinkling. How to explain? 'Da says it's only a matter of time before the cold starves us. We wanted to leave while we were strong.'

'I don't think that was the only reason, Lanna.' Hemil said her name with care, trying to pronounce it with the proper intonation. The loop of his arm tightened as he spoke. 'Perhaps here they can be as they wish without anyone thinking them weak?'

Lanna cast her mind back to her parents holding hands and the smiles they shared. Like they were freshly chosen all over again. 'There may be something to what you say,' she admitted.

Hemil turned to face her. A light breeze caused strands of his dark hair to flutter against her cheek. He was too near, his chest close to pressing against hers. The herbal scent from his clothing tickled her nostrils.

'What of you, Lanna? Would you not prefer to live as they do? Have someone who wants to keep you?'

Did he know how much of a temptation his words were? Looking at his warm gaze and small smile she would venture yes: Hemil knew precisely what his question meant to her.

'It's a nice idea.' She felt her voice falling to a whisper and her heart ached for a moment. Could she let herself hope to have what her parents did? She lifted a free hand and tucked curls that dangled near her eyes behind an ear. 'A-A man that stays is rare.'

Hemil's smile faded. His gaze moved to the moons, banishing the shade from his face and giving his eyes a black-pearl gleam. 'Not here. In the Empire, we cherish our women. Make a promise to be with them for life.'

Lanna's pulse sped up at his words. She was beyond the age where slick tongues and pretty faces held power, yet his voice poured as easily down her ears as the watery drink had down her throat.

'You also expect obedience.' Her words cut through the warm air, chilling it.

Hemil grinned and looked back at her. 'We do.' A chuckle from him sucked the ice from her. 'Some wives are more obedient than others.' He gave her a soft smile that had her cheeks colouring. 'Any that wed a Southerner would have to make allowances, don't you think?'

She found herself unable to reply.

'Tell me, Lanna, do you think you will marry?'

Her tongue suddenly freed itself. 'Why yes – well perhaps. If I – if I found someone as— I may consider...' Ancestors help her, what was she even saying?

'Good.' He smiled, talking over her rambling half answer. 'Now, I shall get you back to your family and...' The rest of what he said drifted into nonsense. Tiredness caused her eyelids to droop and she gave a sleepy yawn.

'Lanna, how much did you drink?'

She responded with only a smile.

In the morning she couldn't remember returning to her parents. It was also the morning that the matchmaker arrived.