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“You and me both.”

Dawsyn takes a barrel and leads Ruby away from the camp. There is a creek not far from Baltisse’s home, and they’ll hardly need to filter the water before it is ready to drink.

“I’ve rarely felt more sorry for myself. Mother above, my head is pounding.”

Dawsyn’s lips lift. “You’re quite the dancer.”

“I am?”

“I’ve never seen someone tumble over fire before.”

“That explains the singed hair, then,” Ruby remarks, running the ends of her braid through her fingers. “I learnt long ago not to drink like that, but it’s hard to remember why when there’s no example to set.”

“You never drank with the other guards?” asks Dawsyn.

“No,” Ruby admits, brushing aside branches. “I was their captain. And it wasn’t worth the wrath of Their Majesties if they caught me without my wits.”

This gives Dawsyn pause. “What was it like?” she asks now, her curiosity sincere. “To be at their service?”

Ruby seems to weigh her words for a moment before answering. “At first it was an honour, a privilege, even. I was raised on the fringe of the Mecca and my family had very little money, as you know. You also know they were devout to the monarchy. Here I was, their first-born, earning more than we’d ever seen, and regarded by the Queens themselves.” The set of Ruby’s mouth is grim. “I was proud. The Queen had proclaimed that I’d do great things and I was quickly promoted in rank. Before long I was the captain of an army, four hundred strong, and the men amongst them hated me for it.”

“I do not doubt it,” Dawsyn murmurs darkly.

“It was the Queens who set them straight,” Ruby continues. “They imprisoned two men who tried to beat me to a pulp the night I was promoted. By the time they were released, the rogues were… well, they were no longer fit to fulfil their duties,” Ruby mumbles. “After that I was merely the source of resentment, and they began to listen to me out of fear. In time, they came to respect me, but it was hard earnt, let me tell you. There were many I had to put on their backs to prove I was a worthy captain.”

Dawsyn smirks. Men could be baser beings, only ceding to a show of dominance. “Good.”

“I imagine you did much the same on the Ledge?”

Dawsyn shrugs. “I had no need for respect. I mostly just killed them, but it amounts to the same.”

Ruby gives her a look that clearly says she doesnotthink it amounts to the same at all. But Ruby has never lived on the Ledge. Death, and the threat of it, pervaded every breath they took.

“I revered the Queens. I didn’t know then what I know now, of course. To me, they were regal, unshakeable, dauntless, the very picture of the woman I wanted to be. If they asked me to strike, I struck.”

“But something changed?” Dawsyn asks, watching the former captain closely.

“Slowly, perhaps,” she says. “So slowly, I barely noticed.”

“We would all be cooked in slow-boiled water.”

“Indeed,” Ruby nods. “The first time I saw it, Queen Alvira ordered that I arrest any in the Mecca who grew their own produce without a permit to farm. I disagreed, of course. Debated with them. I thought of the families I knew on the fringe who relied on their tiny vegetable patches to supplement their pantries. But in the end, I walked out of the palace chambers with my head hanging, ready to order the guards to search every courtyard in the Mecca. I found myself doing things I was ashamed to admit to my mother and father when I would call on them. When I tried to reason with Queen Alvira, she somehow always managed to turn the conversation in her favour.”

“She’s manipulative,” Dawsyn says.

“Masterfully so. It took a long time for me to see it.”

They walk on silently for a few moments more. Dawsyn is deep in thought, imagining what it must have taken to leave it all behind. The strength to start anew on the other side. “You may be one of the bravest souls I know,” Dawsyn tells her.

It isn’t soft when she says it. Dawsyn doesn’t mean to comfort her with flattery. The words come out flat and unremarkable – a statement of fact.

But Ruby only shakes her head. “I merely seek penance. I hope I can balance some of the wrongs I’ve taken part in.”

Dawsyn nods. “I know the feeling.”

“Is that why you are so intent on saving your people?” Ruby asks. “To right your wrongs?”

Dawsyn deliberates. She has long wrestled with it. “It is… part of it,” she says. “The other part is something less shallow. Something nobler. Or, at least, that is what I hope.”