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“How did it come to this?” Helia murmured as she walked toward the Empire’s capital.
The quickest lawful path into the Empire was not a petition stamped by a dozen seals or a courier’s sprint through the night. It was simpler and, for her, almost absurdly available. Ketal would act as her attendant.
Helia was the Sun God’s Saintess; among the living, only a handful could present themselves at the imperial gate without prior ceremony. She was one of them. She could notify the gate on the day and be received that same day, and because of who she was, she was permitted one or two attendants to accompany her within the lines of her duty. She would use that worn and legal path to bring Ketal through the wall that would close on any other.
“Please,” she said softly, and she kept her eyes forward as the gate road straightened, “keep the forms. Silence is enough. I will answer every question.”
“I understand,” Ketal replied, and a low laugh warmed the words. “I will try.”
Helia did not tell him that the soft humor in his voice made her more anxious, not less. She set her foot on the last stretch of flagstones and carried a steady pace to the gate. At the end of that walk, they reached the entrance to the capital.
The guards who kept that mouth watched her come and knew her by face and seal. One of them stepped down from the lintel’s shade and bowed his head with a quiet economy.
“Saintess of the Sun God,” he said. “Welcome to the capital of the...
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