Shira, one month later

The ocean wind whips across my face, carrying with it minuscule particles of salt and sand that scratch my cheeks. I angle my body to the side to avoid the spray. If my mother is bothered by it, she gives no sign; her clear eyes don't even squint against the wind. She reminds me of a statue fixed to the prow of a ship to bring sailors good luck.

"We're not far now." She says simply, giving me a small smile. "You'll be able to see the coast in an hour or so."

Her smile falls when I don't answer. But what can I say? That I'm excited to get off the boat? The boat, at least, is familiar. I force myself to take a calming breath, to let some of the tension leave my body. All is well, I whisper to myself under the sound of the waves crashing against the prow. All is right.

"Relax, Shira." My mother whispers, placing her hand on mine in a rare show of affection. "This is the best place for you now."

"So you've said." I quip, slipping my hand away.

"Stop it." She murmurs. "You're acting like a child."

"Why shouldn't I act like one when all of my decisions are made for me?"

"You are lucky your decisions are made for you!" She says sharply, though still too quiet for the captain to hear us. "For you, Shira. To keep you safe! To assure your future!"

"My future is in Shikkah."

"Shikkah is on fire." My mother answers. There's sadness leaking through her usual practicality and it makes it hard for me to stay angry. "And I will not have my son burn with it."

I sigh, unable to really argue further. Because, no matter how much I want to deny it, it's true. There's no place for me in my country now, and there may never be again. The thought makes my chest ache.

We wait in silence, staring out at the horizon. Gradually the shoreline appears, then widens. What is at first just a grey shape becomes jagged rocks and a line of trees in the distance.

"We'll start bringing your things above deck now." The captain, one of three others on the small cargo ship, says. My mother gives him a small nod. I want to thank them but my voice doesn't come when I open my mouth. I grip the side of the ship tighter, willing myself to be calm. To breathe.

Tears prick my eyes and I blink them away as rapidly as I can, turning my body so the captain and mother can't see. Now I'm really acting like a child, I think sardonically. But still, I can't hold back the tears. They flow down my cheeks even as I keep my face stoic, biting my lip to keep in a sob.

"Amshira." Mother says. When I don't answer, she repeats herself. "Amshira, look at me."

I do, my face burning in shame. When was the last time she saw me cry? When was the last time I cried- I haven't had time to cry, not during the chaos of the last month. I've barely had time to breathe.

"Listen to me." She says, her bright blue eyes burning into mine. "You can break apart now. We have fifteen minutes until shore and I will stand next to you so no one will see. The wind and the sea will hide you. But once you are in Kama, you let no one see you cry. No one. You do, and they will beat you like waves against a rock." She leans forward, the ocean wind whipping her light hair wildly around her face. "I'm telling you what my brother told me once: you survive, if it's all you can do. You don't worry about the future, and you don't worry about the past. You just survive. And then, when you're strong enough, you start to build."

"Build what?" I ask.

She smiles, and it's like watching a glacier thaw. "Anything you want, Amshira. Anything."

I smile back, feeling a bit of hope blooming in my chest. The tears still come, but the sadness, the fear behind them has dimmed some. Mother keeps her promise, standing between me and the ship, giving me time to collect myself as she shore gradually but inevitably rolls closer.

"I'm Tyro." The man who meets us on the shore says. "Ambassador Nara said you'd be expecting me." He's tall and well-muscled, with deeply tanned skin and expressive dark eyes, but what really captures my attention are the raised scars encircling both of his wrists.

I know the Kamai still practiced ritual scarification, but seeing it in person still shocks me. It's both beautiful and revolting, a vestige of their not-so distant primitive past. The clothes he wears are simple yet well made, consisting of a maroon tunic and breeches.

"Of course." My mother says. "You're transporting Shira to the capital?"

"Yes." The foreign man answers. For a moment mother seems put off by his lack of formality- he doesn't even address her with a title- but she doesn't say anything.
"Give us a moment, if you will."

"Of course." He answers with a nod, gesturing towards a horses he's tied to a far-off tree. "Come when you are ready to leave."

I hold out my suitcases, expecting him to take them, but Tyro either doesn't see or pretends not to notice. I blush, lowering my hands.

"The captain is waiting." Mother says, and I look behind her at the small boat anchored near the rocky shore. "I can't linger here."

"I know."

"I- You will do well here." She says, trying to reassure us both. "The Ambassador is a good man, and Soriko is a safe city. No one will find you here."

"Then come with me." I plead, not for the first time. "If it's not safe for me, then it's certainly not safe for you. You can send letters to your contacts, there's no need to meet in person so soon-"

"We can't afford to wait. That's what Sholu's counting on, Shira. And I will not let that man survive after what he's done to our family."

"Then let me come with you! I'm your heir, Somitu. I should be involved in this!"

"No." She says with finality. "We've discussed this, Amshira. When you are head of this family, or what's left of it, you may do as you like. But I am the matriarch now and you will not question me."

"But I could help!"

"You will help!" She insists. "I told you, I will call you to my side in a few month's time. But for now, I need you to trust me."

"I do trust you! You're the only one I can trust!" I admit. "But I just- I hate the idea of sitting on this damned island, so far away. I want to do something."

"You will." She repeats, quieter this time. "But please, Amshira. Please just listen to me."

Her pleading tone catches me off guard. I stare into her light eyes, hoping to find some wisdom or explanation there. Something to still the doubt and fear that have made a home under my breastbone.

"Okay." I agree after a long pause. "But I am leaving if I hear no word from you in three month's time."

"Agreed." She nods, relieved, before pulling me into a hug. The embrace is almost violent. I startle, then hug her back.

"I'll write you soon, Amshira." She whispers.

"Please stay safe."

My mother just smiles sadly and releases me from her embrace. "Of course."

I pick up my two suitcases, but I can't turn away. My body feels heavy, rooted like a great tree to the rocks of the shore. How can I walk away from her, knowing she's the last familiar thing I might ever see?

She turns away from me instead, waving once and walking back over the rocky shore to the boat.

I watch her for a moment, imprinting on my mind the image of her aboard the ship, the wind whipping her hair into a frenzy. Please, I beg the goddess, please do not let this be the last time I see her. Do not take her too.

She turns towards me, and I can feel her gaze, though I'm too far away to make out her face. The captain, or the first mate, maybe, offers her a hand, and she reluctantly follows him below deck. I sigh and turn away finally, walking towards the horses, leaving the last surviving piece of my family behind.

Tyro lashes my suitcases onto the large grey horse and mounts effortlessly before offering me a calloused hand. He laughs at my hesitation.

"Did you expect a carriage?" He jokes.

"N-no." I mutter, taking his hand to prove my point. He pulls me into the saddle in front of him as if I weigh nothing and kicks the horse. I shriek, clutching at the animal's mane as it tears off. Tyro laughs again, but wraps an arm around my waist to steady me.

I'm glad he's behind me, so he can't see my blush. He must think I'm a fool.

"Nobles aren't expected to ride in Shikkah." I say loudly, over the roar of the wind.

Tyro just grunts in response and pulls the reins, causing the horse to veer left, into a thick patch of woods.

"Won't he hit something?" I shout, leaning forward to avoid errant branches.

"No." The Kamai man answers. I sit up slowly, trying to look somewhat dignified. I fail hilariously whenever the animal turns. I swear Tyro adds in extra just to see me flinch and grip the saddle.

After a while, I sink into the rhythm of the ride. My thighs begin to ache as the woods around us thin, gradually turning into a hilly plain. By the time the sun starts to set I've completely relaxed, letting myself lean against Tyro so he's supporting my weight. He hums quietly for most of the ride; I can feel the vibrations of his chest against by back. It's strangely soothing.

"We're almost there." He says after night has fallen and I can't see anything more than five feet in front of me. I barely stir, caught in a sort of trance of sound and motion. When the horse slows I truly begin to move, to sit up and straighten my tunic.

We enter the city quietly, bypassing the main gates and roads in favor of back alleys. Tyro seems to see in the dark, navigating the tangled maze of dirt roads and buildings with speed and confidence. He anticipates every turn before I can even see a wall approaching, as if he's traveled this way often.

We finally stop in front of a small wooden door. Tyro dismounts and lifts me off the horse, probably realizing my body is so cramped from the ride I couldn't do so myself without falling to the ground in a heap.

"I never knew riding hurt the rider." I huff when he lets me go. "Gods, my thighs are sore."

"It only hurts if you're new to it." Tyro says as he unties my suitcases. "Ride often enough and you barely notice it."

I shake my head. "I'll take your word for it. I'd like to never ride another horse again."

"You're a noble all right." He says with a quiet smirk, handing me only one of my bags. "Foreign or not, you're all so delicate."

"I'm not-" I mean to say delicate, but my words trail off to nothing. Noble. He called me a noble, didn't he? It felt so natural I only registered it a second later.

But I'm not a noble now, am I? I doubt anyone but a Kamai horseman would recognize my legitimacy. My mother might call me Izsai, but that is a kindness. How can I be an heir when my family has been gutted? What am I- heir to the corpse of the Amarin Dimaraste?

The three Dimaraste, the oldest families, have ruled Shikkah for centuries. And for centuries, the Amarins have been the most powerful among them. Yet somehow it only took one night to destroy us, to wipe away lives and traditions and order in one great hellish sweep.

Tyro frowns. "I didn't mean it as an insult."

"No, I know." I say, forcing a smile. "I was thinking of something else."

Tyro looks unconvinced, but he doesn't push me. After tying the horse to a small metal stake, he fishes a key from his tunic pocket and opens the wooden door. I steel myself and step inside.

I smell food and smoke, and hear a clattering of voices and pans. "We're near the kitchens." Tyro says, leading me down a narrow hallway lit by sconces. ""This is the servant's entrance. Probably could've taken you through the main doors, I doubt anyone is following us, but I don't wantto risk it."

Tyro leads me through the servant's quarters and across a small courtyard to the main house. It's a beautiful building, made with the rich, dark lumber Kama is known for, but it's smaller than I expected.

Is this really the head ambassador's house? I can't help but wonder as I follow my guide through the building. The ceilings are high and the furniture is obviously well crafted, but there's no real opulence. No crystal chandeliers or Seramichen rugs woven through with threads of gold, no white marble floors that reflect like mirrors when polished.

We walk up a tall staircase and end up in front of another door. "Is this where I'm staying?" I ask as Tyro takes my suitcase from my hand.

He laughs. "Not unless you plan on sleeping under the ambassador's desk. This is his office." I must look confused, because he elaborates. "My orders were to pick you up at the coast and bring you straight here. I'll have one of the servants take your bags to your room."

"I-I can't go in there." I tell him, feeling a bit of panic creeping back.

"Why not?" Tyro's brows crease in confusion.

"I need a few minutes to collect myself. I've been on a boat for weeks. My tunic is covered in dust and sand; I'm hardly presentable!"

My guide laughs again. "Do you think you're meeting the high council? You don't need to look pretty."

"I just want to look presentable. I only need a few minutes—"

Tyro knocks on the door. "It's Tyro, Lord Nara. I've brought your guest."

I glare at him and quickly try to straighten my tunic and fix my hair as best I can. It's useless, really. I'm tired and dirty and I'm sure I look the part.

"You can come in." A voice calls from within. Tyro opens the door and walks quickly inside; I can only follow.