String People. The [Empress] nodded at the head, which lived despite lacking a body. He was her, a young man, in the fires of his youth. And she was the [Emperor of Sands] as well, although she styled herself [Empress] when she wore this head. She was—had been—the most beautiful and intelligent [Emira] in her nation before she had become the [Empress].
Yvlon had no idea what she meant, and the [Emira] eyed her over the fan. They stood there in awkward silence for a good few seconds before Thexca leaned over and whispered.
“I am [Emira] Isoquen of Nerrhavia’s Fallen. Who, as luck had it, led my armies across Medain when they were routed, and I was placed on this ship. Two months I have been at sea.”
The Stitch-woman spat on Ulvama, and Erin shifted. She raised a fist, and Ulvama looked at her. Erin lowered her hand—turned away from the [Emira]. She had spotted someone else.
The third time, one stopped, noticed Erin’s red cheek, and demanded to know who had done it. When someone looked at the [Emira], he shoved the butt of a spear through the cell and struck her until she curled up into a ball. Erin spoke up when he didn’t stop after a dozen blows.
