The private chamber Lord Kalen provided for me belonged to one of Emperor Shifang’s many concubines. She, along with many of her other consort-sisters, had long since fled the capital, leaving only traces of her scent behind: lavender and jasmine, oiled perfume, and incense. But I was no longer accustomed to soft beds and thick pillows and thus spent a listless night with the fires from the approaching legions as my only source of light. The sight of those soldiers terrified me, but I did not fear for the inhabitants of Daanoris nor the fascinating, terrible asha who had seized power here. Instead, I feared the time the asha would summon her daeva, for I knew not even the most powerful armies of all the kingdoms would be enough. I feared for the advancing soldiers, who did not know they were approaching to die.

When I rose the next morning, the Heartforger remained in the throne room, and I wondered if he had moved from his spot after I had retired. The asha was sitting at the window near the throne again; she had changed her hua to suit the Daanorian style, with several layers of wispy cloth over rich purple silk and a waist wrap that began underneath her breasts and ended halfway down her hips. She watched the emperor dozing at a corner nearby. His hands and feet were still bound, but I suspected he would be in no shape to resist even without his restraints.

“You’re up early,” she observed.

“I couldn’t sleep.” My voice sounded rough to my own ears. My gaze dropped to the pile of papers in her lap.

“I have been writing. I sleep little nowadays, and my mind requires distraction.” She gestured at herself. “I do not think they will appreciate me wearing a hua—after all, I have long since been stripped of my title as an asha. I shall enjoy their discomfiture.”

“Where is Lord Kalen?”

“Still in our bedchamber.” I blushed at her candidness, but she paid no attention. “Use the next hour to prepare yourself.”

“For what?”

“They will want to make contact first, of course. They must have a lot of questions about me.” Her smile was mischievous. “Would you like another story while we wait? I imagine it’ll take at least an hour for them to draw lots and decide on the unfortunate messenger, and Khalad is too engrossed in his work at the moment to hear us, much less be of use in conversation.”

“To be a perfectionist is not the same as being deaf,” Khalad said without looking up, and the bone witch laughed.