That was such an absurd phrase that Rin snorted into her sleeve. “We’re soldiers. Where did you learn feminine wiles?”

“I’m aristocracy. My whole life my parents were determined to get me married to some minister.” Venka smirked. “They were a little miffed when I joined the military instead.”

“They didn’t want you at Sinegard?” Rin asked.

“No, they hated the idea. But I insisted on it. I wanted glory and attention. Wanted them to write stories about me. Look how that turned out.” Venka yanked the knot tight. “You have a visitor, by the way.”

Rin turned around.

Nezha stood in the doorway, hands dangling awkwardly by his sides. He cleared his throat. “Hello.”

Venka patted Rin’s shoulder. “Have fun.”

“That’s a pretty knot,” Nezha said.

Venka winked as she flounced past him. “Even prettier on the wearer.”

The creak as the door swung shut might have been the loudest noise Rin had ever heard.

Nezha crossed the room to stand beside her in front of the mirror. They looked at each other in the glass. She was struck by the imbalance between them—how much taller he was, how pale his skin looked next to hers, how elegant and natural he looked in ceremonial garb.

She looked ridiculous. He looked like he belonged.

“You look good,” he said.

She snorted. “Don’t lie to my face.”

“I would never lie to you.”

The following silence felt oppressive.

It seemed obvious what they should be talking about, but she didn’t know how to raise the subject. She never knew how to bring things up around him. He was so unpredictable, warm one minute and cold to her the next. She never knew where she stood with him; never knew if she could trust him, and that was so damn frustrating because aside from Kitay he was the one person whom she wanted to tell everything.

“How do you feel?” she finally asked.

“I’ll live,” he said lightly.

She waited for him to continue. He didn’t.

She was terrified to say anything more. She knew a chasm had opened between them, she just didn’t know how to close it.

“Thank you,” she tried.

He raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“You didn’t have to save me,” she said. “You didn’t have to . . . do what you did.”

“Yes, I did.” She couldn’t tell if the lightness in his tone was forced or not. “How would it go over if I let our Speerly die?”

“It hurt you,” she said. And I had you smoke enough opium to kill a calf. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “We’re fine.”

But they weren’t fine. Something had shattered between them, and she was sure that it was her own fault. She just didn’t know how to make it right.

“Okay.” She broke the silence. She couldn’t stand this anymore; she needed to flee. “I’m going to go find—”

“Did you see her die?” Nezha asked abruptly, startling her.

“Who?”

“Daji. We never found a body.”

“I gave your father my report,” she said. She’d told Vaisra and Eriden that Daji was dead, drowned, sunk at the bottom of the Murui.

“I know what you told him. Now I want you to tell me the truth.”

“That’s the truth.”

Nezha’s voice hardened. “Don’t lie to me.”

She crossed her arms. “Why would I lie about that?”

“Because they haven’t found a body.”

“I was trapped under a fucking mast, Nezha. I was too busy trying not to die to think.”

“Then why did you tell Father that she’s dead?”

“Because I think she is!” Rin quickly pulled an explanation out of thin air. “I saw Feylen crash that ship. I saw her fall into the water. And if you can’t find a body that just means she’s buried down there with the other ten thousand corpses clogging up your channel. What I don’t understand is why you’re acting like I’m a traitor when I just killed a god for you.”

“I’m sorry.” Nezha sighed. “No, you’re right. I just—I want us to be able to trust each other.”

His eyes looked so sincere. He’d really bought it.

Rin exhaled, marveling at how narrowly she’d gotten away.

“I’ve never lied to you.” She placed a hand on his arm. It was so easy to act. She didn’t have to fake her affection for him. It felt good to tell Nezha what he wanted to hear. “And I never will. I swear.”

Nezha gave her a smile. A real smile. “I like when we’re on the same side.”

“Me too,” she said, and that, finally, wasn’t a lie. How desperately she wished they could stay that way.

The parade turnout was pathetic. That didn’t surprise Rin. In Tikany, people came out for festivals only because they bore the promise of free food and drink, but battle-wrecked Arlong didn’t have the resources to spare either. Vaisra had ordered an extra ration of rice and fish distributed across the city, but to civilians who had just lost their homes and relatives, that was little cause to celebrate.

Rin still could only barely walk. She’d stopped using her cane, but she couldn’t move more than fifty yards without getting exhausted, and both her arms and legs were riddled by a tight, sore ache that seemed to only be getting worse.

“We can have you ride on a sedan chair if you need,” Kitay said when she faltered on the dais.

Rin clutched his proffered arm. “I’ll walk.”

“But you’re hurting.”

“Entire city’s hurting,” she said. “That’s the point.”

She hadn’t seen the city outside the infirmary until now, and the devastation was painful to look at. The fires in the outer city had burned for nearly a day after the battle, extinguished only by rainfall. The palace remained intact, though blackened at the bottom. The lush greenery of the canal islands had been replaced by withered dead trees and ash. The infirmaries were overcrowded with the wounded. The dead lay in neat lines by the beach, awaiting a proper burial.

Vaisra’s parade wasn’t a testament to victory, but an acknowledgment of sacrifice. Rin appreciated that. There were no gaudy musicians, no flagrant displays of wealth and power. The army walked the streets to show that they had survived. That the Republic was alive.

Saikhara headed the procession, breathtaking in robes of cerulean and silver. Vaisra strode just behind her. His hair was streaked with far more white than it had been months ago, and he walked with just the barest hint of a limp, but even those signs of weakness seemed only to add to his dignity. He was dressed like an Emperor, and Saikhara looked like his Empress. She was their divine mother and he was their savior, father, and ruler all at once.

Behind that celestial couple stood the entire military might of the west. Hesperian soldiers lined the streets. Hesperian dirigibles drifted slowly through the air above them. Vaisra may have promised to usher in a democratic government, but if he intended to stake his claim to the entire Empire, Rin doubted that anyone could stop him.

“Where are the southern Warlords?” Kitay asked. He kept twisting around to get a look at the line of generals. “Haven’t seen them all day.”