"Wake up, miss." Halima calls, cutting through the haze of my nightmare. For a few seconds I'm both asleep and awake, both seeing the little girl holding my breakfast and the afterimages of the dream.

I open my eyes and blink a few times, chasing the shadows from my peripheral vision. It wasn't real, I tell myself, focusing on the cracks of the ceiling as my heartbeat begins to slow. It was just a stupid dream.

"You cried out, miss." She says, setting the tray down. I turn my head to look at her.

"What did I say?"

"You said something about blackened rain, miss."

That sounds about right, I suppose. In one dream I was running through the palace gardens during a summer rainstorm, dancing around while my dress was soaked through. I could actually see the vetaveri flowers growing, nourished by the water. Then the rain turned into something black and viscous that began to coat my body, binding to me and clogging my eyes, my throat-

"My mother used to tell me to drink three cups of tea before bed to avoid nightmares." Halima informs me with a small smile. "And also to sleep facing north."

"Do bad dreams come from the south?" I ask mockingly.

Her face closes down a bit, and I almost regret my tone. "No, miss. I think they come from inside our own minds and hearts. But the goddess of dreams makes her home in the north, you know, and the closer you are to her, the more likely she is to watch over your sleep."

"Well, I am facing north." I tell her. "See? The window faces the sunrise and the sun rises in the east, so that means the bookshelves are west, and the foot of my bed is facing south. And I still have horrible dreams."

"Maybe try the tea." She suggests timidly.

"Tea only works when you lace it with lanuli." I tell her. "Tea is just herb water. You want to keep nightmares at bay, you need something stronger." I pause. "Do you think you could get some lanuli, Halima?"

"No, miss." She says. "The guards check what I bring you every day, once in the kitchens when they give it to me and once before I come inside the room. They wouldn't let me bring you that."

"Maybe if you dissolved it in the tea beforehand-"

"I don't know where they keep it, miss." She says nervously. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." I sigh, pulling myself up higher in bed. What I wouldn't give for some lanuli. Just three drops in tea and you'll sleep so soundly you won't ever dream. I wouldn't have to close my eyes and wonder if I'd sleep through to morning or wake up an hour later crying.

"I wish I could help, miss." Halima mutters, sitting down on the edge of the bed. And she means it. Her golden eyes are wide and glassy and I can feel how desperately her little heart wants to help me. She was raised in the palace and she's still loyal.

And the new guards, traitors Sholu has installed to keep order in the palace, know it. That's why they check the tray twice. I shudder thinking about what they would do if they found out she was bringing me lanuli- a soporific, in small doses, but in excess, a poison.

"I shouldn't have asked you." I say. "It would get you in trouble."
"I- I don't mind." She says, trying to smile, but I can see fear flashing in her eyes. She's only thirteen.

"You should." I snap. "Those guards won't hesitate to kill you, you know, just because you're a child. They've already killed plenty of Amarin babies, don't think you're any different just because you're a servant!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, miss."

"You didn't offend me." I sigh. "I just don't want you dead, alright?"

"I don't want that either. I- they're horrible, miss." She shudders. "They beat Maida because she slapped a man who tried to kiss her, and then they made her leave, which wouldn't be so bad if she wasn't pregnant now, and if work wasn't so hard to find. And that's not even mentioning what they did to Kei."

"What did they do to Kei?"

She stops babbling. "Oh, I shouldn't have said anything. They- they told me not to say anything-"

"And I am telling you to tell me."

"I- they threatened me, miss, please don't speak to them about it, they'll know that I told you-"

"Now, Halima."

"They killed him, miss." She answers quietly. "They shot him and threw his body out in the gutter."

I close my eyes for a moment as I hear the sound of gunshots echoing in my ears, threatening to drag me back in time to that night. The look on their faces as they lay dying- no. I push the memories back, back behind stone walls and palisades. Not now.

"Why did they kill him?"

"He spoke back to them often." She answers. "That's all."

"They were just making an example of him, then."

I should feel something, shouldn't I? A man was shot like a dog, his body thrown out into the streets. But I can't bring myself to feel much of anything at all, thinking about this man Kei. At most I feel a grim sort of inevitability.

I feel too much most of the time. So much it knocks me over and leaves me breathless, panting, clutching myself and trying to wade through emotion and back to some sort of solid reality. Loss, splitting me open like a pick-axe; grief, pulling the flesh from my bones; anger, setting me on fire. But then I get to a certain point where all those emotions collide and collapse and burn out, and I end up numb.

It makes a horrible sort of sense, actually. If they got rid of all the servants the palace would stop running, and bringing in and teaching new people how to do their jobs would take time and money. Better just to keep most of the servants on. But then the servants might still be loyal- they might try to poison the guards, or help me, or some other heroic nonsense. So just kill one or two who get a bit too loud and watch the others fall into line.

I feel a stab of pity for them. Well, for the loyal ones- I'm sure some of them are all too happy to comply with their new murderous employers so long as they get their paychecks. But a fair number of them knew our family and loved it. And now they're serving the men who shot that family dead.

"Why don't they all just leave?" I wonder out loud.

"Some have." Halima says. "But most have nowhere to go. They need the money and you know how bad unemployment is, miss."

"But if they shot a man- if they know what these guards have done, you'd think that their self-preservation instincts would make them leave. This palace is a tomb now, Halima."

"There's danger everywhere." She mutters. "The city isn't safe. Some of the maids were saying It's better here, because at least they know who has the guns, and there's a wall between them and the rest of the city."

"You mean the riots." I say. I've heard them, even though the palace isn't directly in the city. Even though my windows are shut and I'm facing an inner courtyard, far away from any roads.

"I- I shouldn't say." She looks hesitant again. "The guards don't want me to tell you anything."

"I won't say a word of any of it." I reassure her. "But we've talked about this, Halima. I need to know what is happening in the city, in the palace. I'm your lady and it's your duty to tell me."

I feel a tinge of guilt manipulating her loyalty so blatantly, but it's necessary. She's my only access to information besides the iron-barred window.

"I don't know much." She admits. "You know they keep me mostly separate from the others, because they don't want them talking too much to me, because I might repeat it. And I'm not allowed to leave the palace."

Yes, I figured that: Halima probably doesn't know much of anything at all, certainly no vast political secrets. But she knows more than me; she's been beyond this room in the past month and a half, and I have not.

"Just tell me what you've heard."

"That the city is burning, miss." She murmurs sadly. "That there's loyalists and populists fighting everywhere, and the gangs have moved in to take advantage of the chaos, and lots of people are doing bad things just because they have the chance to. The maids say it's much more dangerous out there than in here."

I close my eyes for a moment. Safer here? Locked in a stone house with the monsters who murdered an entire family on Blessed Aramizsa's sacred feast day?

"Goddess help us all." I whisper, closing my eyes for a moment and trying to imagine what must be happening beyond the artificial stillness of these four stone walls. I've heard the riots, and if the gangs have gotten a foothold, then the streets are likely a warzone. Looted storefronts with smashed glass, families cowering behind barred doors, the stench of fear souring everything into anarchy- is that it? Could the beating heart of Shikkah, the renowned center of learning, the seat of our government, have folded in on itself so quickly?

Yes, I realize, feeling a pang of indescribable sadness. It took less than an hour to kill the entirety of the Amarin Dimaraste. If our palace can fall, so can the city. So can all of us.

"You know that people used to travel hundreds of miles just to visit Arza?" I ask her. "Back when I was your age. Ananai, Seramichens, even people from as far away as Ferazan. We were the hub of everything."

But that was back before the drought caused rivers to run dry as far north as Unren, and before the ensuing famine threatened to starve our people. Before civil war in Yukkaita and Macchon crippled the southern silk trade. Shikkah has been a shadow of itself for a decade; now what will it become?

"I remember, miss." Halima murmurs. "I was very young, but I remember."

"I remember, miss." Halima murmurs. "I was very young, but I remember."

I remember, too. I remember what we used to be, which makes what we're becoming all the more unbearable. Pretty soon the entire world will forget this city was once great. It'll become just another ruined backwater with impressive architecture and a sad history. The weight of what we once were will wither and die under the weight of what we'll become.

And I don't know if I can stand that.

"You should eat the soup before it goes cold, miss." Halima says gently, passing me the porcelain bowl. I take it from her and drink it down quickly, not really tasting it.

"Should I lay out a tunic for you?" She asks when I'm done. "How about the red one with the gold trim? And I can plait your hair, if you like."

"What for?" I ask with a hollow laugh. "Who am I trying to impress? I'm not going anywhere."

"It might make you feel better, miss. It isn't healthy to be in your nightdress all day."

If she didn't look so damned genuine I would laugh at her and send her away. Make me feel better? Trying to recapture normalcy seems almost cruelly naïve. No matter how I dress, I'll still be a prisoner; just a prisoner in nicer clothes.

"The red one is fine." I tell her, setting down the soup bowl. She rushes over to my wooden wardrobe and heaves open the doors, animated with purpose as she searches through piles of fabric to find the tunic. She just wants to help, I remind myself; she just wants to fall back on the routine we've had for years, as lady and maid. It's probably a comfort to her.

"There." She says, spreading out a scarlet bundle on the bed and smoothing away wrinkles with her hands.

I let her finish laying the tunic out, then wait for her to choose a pair of leggings to match and lay those out as well. Then I strip off my nightdress and pull on the airy garments, made for wear during the hot Shikkan summer.

I remember wearing this tunic the night of my nineteenth birthing day. It was a gift from my mother, and though I've never been much interested in clothing, I still appreciated the beauty of its intricate beading and looping thread details along the hems.

Shira and I danced all night, drunk on imported Seramichen wine and the soft light of the sun setting behind the far-off sand dunes. Insects hummed around us but candles kept them away, so all I noticed of them was their ambient noise, music that lasted long after the musicians played their last song. He gave me a knife as a gift that year, one with a silver hilt and a blade so sharp it damaged my sheath.

Shira... I close my eyes and breathe out, pushing back the memories, but not soon enough. A wave of loneliness washes over me, then a wave of fear. I've been by his side since we were infants, bloodbound Izsai and Izsaiki, the heir and his second, his protector. And now he's gone. He's gone from me.

The loneliness feels like a physical wound, like I've lost an arm or a leg and can still feel the stump where it used to be. I draw in a ragged breath and try to keep from shaking from the pain of that phantom limb.

"Miss." Halima whispers. "Please, sit down. I'll braid your hair."

I do, sinking down onto a plush chair in front of my dressing table before my legs give out.

"Were you thinking of your nightmares again, miss?" She asks. "Is that why you looked so frightened?"

"I was thinking of Shira." I answer. I hate how my voice wavers.

"Oh, miss." She says softly, her small hands separating my blond hair into sections. "He's alive. I'm sure of it."

"Of course he's alive!" I snap at her. "He's the Izsai, and no one's as smart as him, or as resourceful as him, or as lucky as him! Of course he's somewhere safe right now!"

"Yes, of course." Halima repeats, her nimble fingers pulling my hair into multiple braids. "He's someplace safe, probably far away, eating fine food and missing you. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if he was planning to come and rescue you as we speak."

I stiffen. "No one is coming to rescue me." I say flatly.

"You don't know that." She argues. "The Izsai is probably talking to your allies, coming up with a plan to get you out—"

"No one is coming to rescue me!" When Halima's hands drop from my head, stunned, I realized I'm yelling. "This isn't a hero story, you know!"

"Miss, I didn't mean-"

"The window is barred with iron. Iron, Halima." I shout, pointing to it. "And below it? There's twenty fucking guards on patrol in the courtyard. There's four outside my door and ten more down the hall! If you think Shira's going to muster some sort of army and storm the palace and save me, you're crazier than I am!"

"I'm sorry." She stutters, her eyes wide. "I was just trying to cheer you up-"

"Well don't!" I shout. "I don't need false hope, alright?" I look down at my lap, my hands clutching at the fabric of my tunic so tightly my knuckles are white. "Shira can't come back here. If he does, they'll kill him." I feel my throat tightening, my eyes filling with tears. I fight them back. "If they haven't already."

"Miss, he's alive, remember? You said you were sure of it." She tries to reassure me.

"I know what I said!" I hiss, letting go of the tunic and digging my fingernails into my thigh. I feel the skin break and watch through blurry eyes as pools of blood form around my fingertips. "You think I don't know what I said? I said it because I need it to be true, okay? I need-" I pause, drawing in a ragged breath. "I need him to be alive. He has to be alive." I feel a few tears fall, slipping down my cheeks like runaways.

"But what if he isn't?" I mutter, gritting my teeth to contain the sob building in my chest. "You said you saw thirty riders go out after him, and none have come back. So maybe they can't find him. But maybe they found him today. Maybe they found him that first night and now they're out conquering other cities. I don't know, Halima!" I start to cry earnestly now, my dam breaking. "I don't know anything; I see the world through that fucking window!"

"What if he's dead?" I sob, imagine an image of his still body. "What if he's captured and they're torturing him? Oh, goddess." I whisper, leaning forward as I disintegrate. "I- I couldn't stand it if he was dead. If he was dead, I'd drink a whole bottle of lanuli." I say through a curtain of tears. "I can't be the last one. I won't be, I won't be, I'll find a way out-"

Halima wraps her arms around me. I stiffen at first, then relax into her touch. My head falls forward, onto her shoulder.

"Don't talk like that, miss." She murmurs soothingly in my ear. "You're not drinking a bottle of lanuli. I won't hear of it."

"You don't understand." I hiccup against her, soaking her tunic with my tears. "I can't be alone. I need him, Halima."

"You're going to be okay." She tells me. "It will all be okay, miss."

"I don't believe you." I whisper. "I- I don't even know who I am anymore."

"You are O'otani Koritzu Amarin." She says. "You're the Izsaiki."

"No, I'm not. I failed, Halima, don't you understand? I was the Izsaiki, until the moment those bullets were fired and Shira fled and the city went to hell."

"That wasn't your fault!"

"Yes, it was," I admit, feeling another piece of myself crumble. "It was my job to protect Amshira. It was my job to protect Arzsa. I didn't. I should have seen it coming, I should have stopped it-"

"Stop!" Halima says, with more force than I've ever heard her speak. "Just stop it, alright? I don't care if you're the Izsaiki, you can't control an entire city. What's happened is no one's fault but that goddess-damned traitor, and don't ever think otherwise!" Her eyes blaze with an intensity I wouldn't have thought her capable of. "Whatever happens, whatever they might control, don't let them control your mind! You are as innocent as any of us!"

But I'm not, I think, letting my head fall forward again. If only you knew...

I consider telling her everything. I open my mouth to speak, to confess, but no words come. I can't. I can't bring myself to say it all out loud. Even thinking of it twists my insides like a knife to the gut.

"Please, O'otani." I look up, startled by her use of my name. She's never called me by my name before. "Please don't hate yourself. Hate him. It's his fault, all of it. I've been your maid for years and I know what's in your heart. You are strong, and you are good."

I don't feel strong. I feel like I've been broken into pieces and put back together without glue, so that any hard motion will shatter me. I don't feel good, either, not after what I've done. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths through my nose, concentrating on the feeling of the air entering my lungs, holding it there, then exhaling slowly. My heart rate falls. The feeling of desperation abates some, as do the tears. I'm still shaking a bit, but I force myself to sit up straight. I look into Halima's eyes and see a depth of concern that makes me ashamed. I shouldn't have broken down in front of her, much less had her comfort me. She's the child; I should be comforting her.

"I'm sorry." I tell her. "I lost myself for a moment."

"It's alright, miss." She says gently. "It's just the times, is all."

"Of course." I mumble, wiping the tears from my face. "The times." I settle back in the chair, forcing my back straight, and try to smile at Halima. "Would you finish braiding my hair?"

"Are you sure, miss?" She asks doubtfully.

"Of course."

I close my eyes as her nimble fingers pull my hair this way and that, creating intricate braids that join together and trail down my back. I try to focus on nothing but the feelings of her hands dancing across my scalp.

"There, miss." The little maid smiles. "You look lovely. Oh, I wish I had a mirror. You should see yourself."

The guards were smart enough to remove the mirrors from my room so I couldn't break the glass into a weapon. They also removed ceramic vases, my collection of knives, a short sword, stone book ends, and anything else with a sharp edge.

"Lovely?" I scoff. "There's no need to flatter me. No one looks lovely after crying."

"You do." She says. "Your eyes are a just little red, that's all."

"Thank you." I say, really meaning it. Her kindness is one of the only things keeping me from completely unravelling.

"Of course. I only wish I could do more, miss."

A loud knock comes at the door. Halima looks nervous; I feel my hands curl into fists. The guards are letting us know our time is up. They send her in with food twice a day and then call her back half an hour later, like clockwork.

"I have to go, miss, I'm sorry." She says nervously, eyeing the door like it might open at any moment to reveal a guard pointing a gun to her head. "I'll see you tonight, alright? And I'll bring you warm milk and Isoveri root tea, to help you sleep."

I frown, dreading the loneliness her absence brings.

"I'll be back soon," she promises, reading the sadness on my face. "Just a few hours."

"Be careful." I tell her. "Keep yourself safe."

"I'll be fine, miss." She reassures me. I smile and try to believe her.

When she knocks on the door, empty tray in hand, a guard opens it and ushers her out. Then the door is shut behind her and I'm alone again.