Tensen looked older in the outside light, his wrinkles deeper, his eyes nearly lashless. “This will mean famine.”

Slowly, Kestrel said, “I have an idea.”

Tensen waited. When she remained silent, he raised his brows.

“It might not be a good idea,” she said.

“It must be better than nothing.”

“I’m not so sure.” She thought of the horses of the eastern plains. She heard Arin saying murder. That word had raked claws through his voice. It had sunk them deep into her.

Tensen placed one hand on her shoulder. For all that his hand was light while the general’s was heavy, the gesture reminded Kestrel of her father. “You could harvest the crop early and hide it,” she told Tensen, “but leave some hearthnuts on the trees. Then infect them. Choose your favorite pest. Gull wasp, beetles, caterpillars … whatever will breed quickly. When the emperor asks for the crop, it won’t be your fault if you’ve nothing to give him.” Tensen’s smile warmed. Kestrel wondered what her father’s father had been like, or her mother’s, and whether if she had had a grandfather, he would look at her like this. “If the emperor believes you’re lying, he can see the wasted fields for himself. But … it might ruin the trees. You might starve next year when nothing but worms grow in your fields.”

“We’ll worry about next year if we come to it,” said Tensen. He squinted at a few pinpricks of snow. They were just starting to come down. “Arin’s been pressing me to say who provided the information about poor Thrynne.”

Her heart jumped. “What did you tell him? You can’t tell him it was me. You promised.”

“Don’t worry. We both know what it means to lie for the right reasons. I won’t share your secret. I insisted on my informant’s anonymity. I called her the Moth. That doesn’t bother you, does it? Being named after a lowly household pest?”

The corner of Kestrel’s mouth lifted. “I don’t mind being a moth. I would probably start eating silk if it meant that I could fly.”

* * *

The sleeve’s cuff had finally frayed. Arin pitched the shirt into the trunk. He unstrapped the sheathed dagger, whose almost slight weight made him uneasy. He didn’t like to have Kestrel’s dagger on him. But he also didn’t like the idea of packing it away, or leaving it behind. He glanced back at the openmouthed trunk. The unraveling shirt rested on top of its contents.

Arin set the dagger aside. He reached for the shirt again and tugged on a thread. It spun free, a spider’s line that Arin wrapped around one finger until it cut off the circulation. He gave a sharp yank. The thread broke from the shirt. He stared at it.

It was crazy, the thought that a simple string could help Herran. But Arin left his rooms, sought Deliah, and asked her for spools of thread in many colors.

* * *

“You smell like fish,” Arin told Tensen when the minister entered the suite.

“My shoes, I think. I stepped in something.” Tensen glanced up and saw the closed trunk with its tightened straps waiting by the door. “Arin, are you leaving me?”

“I’m no good here.”

“Do you think you will do more good in Herran? I hate to be rude, but surely you understand by now that being a governor means little more than giving the emperor whatever he wants. Your cousin’s been able to manage that just fine in your absence.”

“I’m not going to Herran. I’m going to the east.”

Tensen blinked, then frowned. He passed a palm over the trunk. He fiddled with the straps. “What could you hope to find there?”

“Allies.”

“The east doesn’t make allies. The east is the east. They don’t like outsiders.”

“I’m not asking for your advice.”

“Apparently not. Because if you were, I would remind you that people who go to that country rarely return, and those who do aren’t the same.”

“I could use a change.”

Tensen studied him. “You were out all night. I wonder what has inspired this decision of yours.”

“Tensen, we’re already at war. We need to face facts. Herran will have to fight free of the empire, and we’re no match for it. The east might be.”

“It’s illegal for a foreigner to enter Dacra.”

“I’m no ordinary foreigner.”

Tensen cupped his hands and opened them wide as if scattering seeds to the floor. It was the Herrani gesture of skepticism.

“Don’t doubt me,” Arin said.

“It’s not you I doubt, but the idea. It’s not safe.”

“Nothing’s safe. Staying here isn’t safe. And going home is useless. You asked me when we first came here what I would choose, myself or my country.”

“That’s true,” Tensen said slowly. “I did.”

“This is my choice.”

“A choice like that is easy when you don’t really know what it will cost.”

“Whether it’s easy or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that it’s mine.”

Tensen pursed his lips. The loose flesh of his neck sank gently beneath his lowered chin. Abruptly, he leveled his gaze and met Arin’s. Tensen pulled the gold ring from his finger. “Take this.”

“I can’t take that.”

“I want you to.”

“It was your grandson’s.”

“That’s why I want you to take it.”