The morning messages arrived while Lanna kneaded a wax paste for a lip shimmer, but she took no interest and instead applied herself to the stiff, yellow wax. Then a letter flopped onto her workboard. She blinked and looked up at Epen's impassive face. She knew the characters on the envelope made up her name – her old name that was.

Whoever had sent the letter hadn't heard of the Imperial decree. Lanna frowned, wondering who would send her letters when she had barely mastered all fifty-two basic characters of the Imperial writing system. Her eyes scanned over the loops and angles, decoding the symbols.

'Li' – the rainy side of a hill; they had no 'La' sound and used the closest to it. 'An' – tranquillity, used twice as there was no long 'aa' sound in Imperial. 'Na' –hundredth of an hour. In Imperial, she was a calm rainy hillside, but the rain didn't last long.

In the palace, she was reduced to a rainy hillside, which amused Chowa. They had effectively snipped off the parts of her name that gave it personality. Of course, her name meant much more in Southern.

'Are you not going to attempt to read it?' Epen asked, cutting through her thoughts. She shook her head.

'I'll need help,' she muttered, a little embarrassed.

'I'll read it to you, Misra,' Epen offered. She looked up, surprised.

'The written word is precious,' he said, giving her an intense look. 'You better yourself by learning to make permanent your thoughts and feelings so others may know you.' He tapped the envelope. 'This is from the sixth province; it's taken a month to get here. Someone has paid no small amount for their words to reach you and that deserves respect.' He placed a hand over his chest and bowed, as if she were a concubine and not elbow deep in wax.

'I would be honoured to read while you work. I was on an early errand, so my midday break is to be taken now.'

Lanna didn't know what to say. He sat on a stool opposite the bench she worked at, gently thumbed open the district seal and unfolded the thick paper. Paper was expensive. Even Chowa wouldn't waste it, preferring bamboo scrolls that could be wiped clean of errors while the ink was wet or sanded clean if it had dried.

The paper grew larger than the width of the table and was covered in tiny, neat characters.

'My daughter,' Epen began. Lanna nearly fainted. It was from her parents?

'We hope this finds you well. We have hired a novice from an observatory in town Eighty-Four to come and scribe for us. Misra Chowa was generous in her remunerations.'

I'm sure she was, Lanna thought sourly.

'As most of the village cannot write, we have allowed others to visit the novice and he will take down their words too. Many have asked after you, but we only have Misra Chowa's brief missives saying that you are healthy and working hard.'

This was another surprise. Chowa had said nothing of keeping her parents informed on Lanna's progress.

'The courier was kind enough to read her messages to us on delivery. We are glad you are learning to write – it is a very useful skill in the Empire and we feel disadvantaged for not having it.'

Lanna sighed, wishing she could hug her father.

'We have rented some more land with our coin and now have our own rice paddies. Our health is good, and we have enough coin in reserve to keep us well for the years to come. We are settled here, and the village is pleased we have chosen to stay.'

Lanna smiled, glad they were doing well but also a little ashamed. She hadn't thought of them much over the last few weeks.

'Your brother is still intent on making his own way as soon as he turns sixteen. He says he will head to the First City and find a way to release you from your obligations. We have tried to reason with him.'

Lanna felt a chill. How would the palace react if Durrick turned up demanding her release? Badly was her guess. Though while her brother was impulsive, he wasn't stupid. He would find a way to contact her before trying to see her. At least, she hoped he would.

'You are very much missed, Button, but know the whole village is proud of you and speak of you often.'

Lanna tried to swallow.

'Mika, in particular, pesters us for news. If you could write her a few lines when you become literate, she would much appreciate it.'

Lanna smiled. She missed her talks with Mika; they would have been wonderful side-sisters.

'We are proud of you too, but as you know separation is hard for us to bear.'

Lanna's lip wobbled and she just managed to keep the tears in.

'We hope you have found happiness regardless of your reluctance to leave. We look forward to your response.'

Lanna sighed, but Epen spoke on.

'Sister.'

Lanna perked up. Her brother, her sworn rival, had written to her? His message was short and to the point. He hated the village and thought his parents cowardly.

'Stay still; bide your time. I will come for you.'

Epen frowned.

'Your brother may end up incarcerated if you cannot dissuade him from that course of action,' he said blandly.

'He's hot-blooded.'

'I beg your pardon, Misra. That trait evidently runs in your family.'

Lanna blinked. Had Epen made a joke? She peered at his face. No, he was serious, which was probably worse.

Epen read for nearly an hour. Most of those she had known well in the village had written. The Headman spoke of the extra ox he had purchased and how they could now cultivate more land. Two of the s wrote that the chickens had pined for her fawning over them, and Lanna smiled at the memory. She had adored the birds, even the rooster that attempted to spur her at every opportunity.

The greetings and news began to repeat, but Lanna didn't get bored. She worked through two blocks of wax listening to Epen's deep voice paint pictures of her old home and its people.

One name remained missing, though Lanna had fully expected he would betroth himself to another. He must indeed have moved on. Her chest tightened.

Epen frowned at the end of the letter.

'What is it?' Lanna asked, tilting her head.

'The end is poorly written. I think it's a last-moment addition.' He paused.

'Well?' she prompted, breath hitching. 'What does it say?'

Epen swallowed; he didn't seem comfortable.

'Bad news?' she asked, her heart sinking.

'Not exactly,' Epen murmured. He fixed her with an open look. Did he look sorrowful? She wasn't used to seeing any expression on his stern face.

'Forgive me, I will read but...' He cleared his throat.

'My dearest Lanna. I have stopped the novice just as he is leaving, and I am grateful he has let me add this.'

Lanna's heart throbbed. It had to be... She moistened her lips and swallowed.

'I wasn't going to contact you; there is little point. Everyone says I had no choice, and I agree with them. What can I have to say to you now?'

'Get to the point!' she growled to herself in her own tongue.

'I can't stop thinking that I have made a mistake,' Epen's tone faltered.

Her head snapped up and her body stilled.

'No,' she breathed. 'No, he...' She lifted her hands from the wax.

Epen's voice continued: relentless. Each word like a kick in her gut.

'I think about you every day. I cannot forget the look on your face when you left. I hurt more than I admit to anyone.'

Lanna shook her head and stepped back. She felt the blood draining from her face. It had been only a few days since her seizure and yet she felt like she was about to have another.

'I should have gone with you.' Epen's voice cut at her, head bent to concentrate on the characters, blind to her distress. 'I would have found employment in the city and...'

Lanna sucked in a shuddering breath and ran.

Her heart wailed at her as she tore down the corridor. She paid no attention to those she passed. Let them rot.

Her feet moved faster and she panted, welcoming the burn in her chest. She sprinted through the hall, heedless of the Emperor's presence on the dais, then shouldered open the back doors, despite the protesting guards.

Finally, in the open air, she kept running. If she ran, she wouldn't have to think. The gardens were extensive but not large enough for her to run herself to exhaustion.

The fortified wall loomed before her. Tall, smooth and topped with spikes. She pushed harder. At a flat run, no Imperial could hope to catch her. Before she ran into the wall, she jumped, tendons and muscles built from hours on the bellows coiling and releasing at her command.

She almost made it. Her hands scrabbled on the tiles at the top of the wall, then she slid down. The skin on her knees and hands tore.

Lanna landed on her feet, jarring her hips, and glared at the offending wall. All her life there had been a wall. Her sickness had been a barrier to so much. Angry at her own mind for being defective she clutched her head, and something in her snapped.

Looking back at the wall, Lanna screamed, and then surged forward. She split her knuckles punching it; ripped her slippers and broke two toes kicking it, until her anger slipped into dull pain and she collapsed into a trembling heap. Then the tears came: hot, regretful and bitter.

It rained, but she ignored the warm droplets pattering on her sweat-slick curls. Once the squall passed, Lanna picked herself up and managed to sit with her back to the wall. Her body ached, but at least her mind was numb.

Her eyes fluttered closed, relishing the emptiness of the gardens. But something was there, as if there were a noise no one noticed humming through the ground. Her body felt a pull. In this alien place, it felt familiar, and her heart calmed to match her mind.

'You are a mess,' a voice snapped, bringing her out of her trance.

Lanna refused to open her eyes. The last thing she needed was scolding.

'Yes, well,' Chowa's voice struggled. 'Epen, he did not know how your people... your unusual levels of affection for those that you— He is sorry.'

Lanna's eyes opened slowly. Chowa stood in her silken glory but her face seemed tighter and more drawn than usual.

'There is tea,' Chowa said at last. 'The white tea you like. Just... come back before you hurt yourself more.'

A small, delicate hand slipped under Lanna's elbow and she let Chowa help her to her feet.

They returned in silence. There really wasnothing else to say.