I stepped forward, took a handful of earth from the pile, and threw it onto the small heap starting to form on top of the coffin. Then I stepped back. Residual dirt clung to my hand, but I resisted the temptation to wipe it off against my pants. Instead, I watched solemnly as the rest of the other people present each added their handful to the grave.

It was a small gathering. Besides me and Al, most of the people were other members of the Imperial guard. I’d been surprised to see San Hashar attend as well, and she’d even stepped up before most of the others.

Once everyone was done, the closest relation to the deceased, a man who seemed to be in his forties and was apparently a nephew, moved the rest of the earth onto the coffin in one fell swoop with the help of his qi. He stood back and bowed his head. The prayers had all been said, earlier, but now the funeral guests took a moment to say their private ones. Except for me, since I didn’t really have anything to say, far less anyone I’d have said it to.

There were a few more formalities, and then people slowly started trickling away. I sighed and looked around. The sun beat down from an annoyingly blue sky. This section of the graveyard, just outside the palace grounds, was reserved for Imperial guards who’d died in the line of duty. Some of the graves held urns filled with ashes instead of coffins, according to their local traditions. Some were empty.

But I didn’t pay them much attention. Instead, I stepped to the side, to the grave directly next to this newest one. Instead of headstones, some regions’ custom was to drive nails into the ground after a set period, spelling out the name of the deceased. I gazed at this one for a moment. I’d missed Lirta Ven’s funeral, like those of all the other guards who’d died with her, since I’d been stranded behind enemy lines at the time.

I looked up to see San Hashar step up to the grave as well, keeping a respectful distance from me, and watched as she scattered a handful of dried flowers over it, as you customarily did here instead of using bouquets. She didn’t look at me, but gazed silently at the grave. I didn’t know if she was praying, though it didn’t look like it. We stood there for a while without speaking.

“I didn’t know you knew her,” I finally said. “Or Ru Lis.”

She nodded. “We served together for some time. I’m glad I was able to make it to the funeral.”

The funeral had been delayed because they’d kept Ru Lis’ body for the investigation. Unfortunately, no one had been able to get any further hints of what had happened or how the Auditor’s son had done it, except for the blindingly obvious fact that he used some kind of darkness qi technique. So they’d finally released the body so it could be buried.

“Were you close?” I asked.

San Hashar pulled a face and shrugged. “I kept in contact with Ru Lis, but I wasn’t as close to her as I was to Ven. The two of us actually came from the same neighborhood in Thousand Lights City. The hardscrabble sort that doesn’t give you much in the way of preparation for the army and the social situations we have to deal with.”

“I can imagine,” I commented. “They probably don’t have many real cultivators there.”

“That’s true. Anyway, you could say she took me under her wing when we were in the same unit. We actually spent a lot of our time in the army in the same company, until she accepted the transfer to the Imperial guard.” The general smiled wistfully. “I was offered the same opportunity later, but I declined. I’ve always felt my place was with the army’s elites.”

“Well, I think the Imperial guard lost out, but the army is certainly better off for it.” I shook my head. “I never knew her very well, but I’m sorry she had to die that way. I’m sorry for your loss, Hashar.”

Her eyes flickered. This was the first time I’d called her by her first name. While they weren’t considered quite as intimate here, especially in the Leri clan, as for old Imperial tradition, it wasn’t the sort of environment where everyone went by their given names, either.

“Thank you,” she answered. “I never blamed you for anything, my lady. Ven signed on as a guard gladly, and sometimes things like that just happen.” She sighed, looking at the grave again. “I’m going to miss her, but I think she’d be proud of what she’s accomplished with her life.”

I nodded. “Well, I’m not sure if you heard, but I personally killed the bastard responsible for it, at least.”

The ghost of a smile flickered across her face. “I know.” She hesitated, then shrugged. “I’ve actually opened a school in our old neighborhood. I named it after her. It’s a boarding school for girls from disadvantaged backgrounds, where they can get a good education and help in making something of their lives.”

I blinked, more surprised than I should have been. “That’s certainly a far better tribute.” I chuckled. “And a good legacy. Actually, if you want, I could drop by the school. Maybe visit the girls, even give a little speech.”

She smiled. “I’d be honored, and I’m sure everyone in the school will be, too, my lady. I’d be happy to arrange that, when your schedule permits.”

I nodded. I was genuinely impressed with her enterprise. A lot of people who’d risen to status and relative wealth wouldn’t have used it for such worthwhile tasks. And she was clearly thinking long-term, trying to get lasting results. Plus, I would be the first to argue for the value and importance of education. Maybe I should see if the school could use a small donation. And try for something a little more widespread, maybe?

“Well, I’m sure I’ll find the time,” I said. “Especially since our projects seem to be going so well.”

She nodded. “I’d be surprised if it took us more than a few weeks to get the functioning prototype you wanted. I can’t say I’d be unhappy about returning to the front, either.”

“You’ve spent months fighting the Zarian on the Earth Continent, Hashar. I think you deserve a short vacation, or at least time away from the fighting.”

She smiled. “I don’t suppose that means you’ll let me take leave now, does it?”

“Unfortunately not. I’ll try to make it up to you later.”

In fact, although she didn’t know it, a large parcel of the lands fallen to us after the civil war was earmarked for San Hashar. She’d be able to found her own noble clan, if she wanted, and probably open another dozen schools. Of course, I doubted that would be very relaxing.

I blinked, waking up slowly, and resisted the urge to turn around. An elbow dug into my left side, and my right leg was trapped under another leg. The slow breathing of Yarani and Kajare filled the room, loud in the silence. When I squirmed a little, testing my range of motion, Kajare grumbled something in his sleep and shifted, digging his elbow deeper for a moment before his arm slid down my side.

I sighed to myself and carefully extricated myself from the tangle, using my shapeshifting to get my leg out without disturbing Yarani. We didn’t usually all sleep in the same bed, but there’d been a court function yesterday evening. While I’d begged off to work on my research, Kajare and Yarani had attended. They’d both had a little much to drink and apparently decided that it would be a splendid idea to test if my bed was really big and sturdy enough for its lofty role. Being made of qi-infused materials, it had passed with flying colors. They might also have tried to evaluate my own endurance, but I wasn’t sure about that.

I took a quick shower and pulled on a fresh set of clothes, deciding to let them sleep it off. I hadn’t protested (much) when they’d dragged my away from my work, but I should get back to it now. Still, I didn’t feel like heading down to the lab just yet. Instead, I went into the adjacent room and settled into a comfortable armchair, pulling out a few papers from my storage ring. The sun had almost finished rising, giving me more than enough light to read. Although I couldn’t quite muster much enthusiasm for it this morning.

I didn’t get much done by the time I sensed a familiar presence approaching. I put my pen down and waited. Tenira cautiously poked her head into the room from the connecting door to the back passages. I smiled and beckoned her closer, and she returned the smile and entered.

“The other two are still asleep?” she asked quietly as she settled into a sofa.

“Yeah.” I regarded my papers for another moment, then took them, stood up and gave her a kiss before I settled onto the couch with her.

“I might want to try that sometime,” she said. “Sleeping in the same bed, I mean.”

I smiled. “Sure. It’s actually uncomfortable and annoying with several people, more so than with one partner. But I guess it can be nice having someone to wake up besides, and the more the merrier, right?”

“As long as the bed will fit us.”

I snorted with a suppressed laugh. “Don’t worry, it will.”

We fell silent, then Tenira busied herself pulling a few papers out of her storage ring. “Anyway, work calls.”

“Doesn’t it always?” I sighed. “I take it there’s something specific you wanted to discuss?”

She nodded. “I’ve been going through the reports of how our people are doing in the newly occupied territories. That led me to take a look at how your strategy with regards to the Storm’s temples in the Empire is progressing.”

“I see. I thought it was going rather well.”

“It is, overall.” She looked up. “I just have a few concerns about what exactly you’re doing, I suppose. I wanted to check back with you in case that was something we should take care of.”

“Alright. Basically, I still want to do what we’ve been trying all along. Convince people to distance themselves from Jideia and his worship, to accept that we’re putting pressure on them, and steadily increasing that economic and political pressure on the temples.”

“And you’re spreading propaganda in order to influence public opinion.”

“I wouldn’t call it that.” At her look, I cleared my throat and scratched my cheek. “Okay, yes, we are. Mostly just telling the truth, though. But with a concerted PR effort. And, fine, maybe a little less than complete probity in a few cases. But we’re talking about someone who’s routinely been trying to assassinate me, and I’m trying to do what I can to effectively fight back.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, but this one is a little …” She slapped down one of the papers and raised her eyebrows. “I mean, really. ‘Jideia is getting depressed because his Zarian keep losing’?”

I shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

“You’re not seriously trying to, what, give the Storm depression by communal belief?”

I grinned. “That’s what they call ‘psychological warfare’, Tenira. Very important facet of warfare, you should look it up.”

Tenira groaned.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. And it might actually work, at least to some extent. We don’t lose anything by trying.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “I suppose the pun was actually halfway clever. And you’re right. If you’re not afraid of us looking ridiculous, there’s no harm in doing this.”

“Believe me, that’s par for the course in politics and with this kind of consideration. You’d be surprised what level of ridiculous people are willing to swallow in large numbers.” I pulled a face. “Actually, considering the difference in education level, people here are probably even more likely to fall for something than what I’m used to. Although I may be doing common sense a disservice.”

Tenira shook her head. “Well, I won’t argue with you about that.”

She put the paper away and sat back in the couch with a little sigh. After a moment, she turned so that she leaned against me. I smiled and lightly ran a hand through her hair. She shifted and settled deeper into me, and I put an arm around her waist. We cuddled silently for a few minutes.

“Have I mentioned lately how much I appreciate you and everything you’ve been doing for me?” I asked.

Tenira chuckled. “I don’t know, love. Feel free to mention it some more.”

“Well, I do. Even when you’re getting cheeky with me.”

“Me, cheeky?” she asked in a tone of wounded innocence. “My lady, I would never dream of possibly giving you cheek. Why, the very thought of pointing out when you might act in a less than perfect manner, much less make a suboptimal decision, would never occur to me.”

“Naturally.” I sniffed. “I would never make a wrong decision, now would I?”

Tenira turned so I could see her grin. “Of course not. There’s no way I, being the devoted consort that I am, could possibly dispute such a statement.”

I smiled at her, then sat up a little straighter. I’m not going to get a better moment anytime soon, I think. “And speaking of being a devoted consort, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

Tenira leaned back so we could see each other better, her expression now serious and expectant. “Yes, Nari?”

I took a deep breath, sternly telling my pulse to slow down. Funny how I felt more nervous than before most battles. But I didn’t let myself hesitate for too long. I’d only start thinking about why it was a bad idea to have this conversation now.

“Will you marry me?”

Tenira’s eyes widened a fraction, then she started to smile. “I’ve been wondering if that was coming,” she said. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand and brushed my cheek. “Are you sure, Nari?”

I nodded firmly. “Of course I am. I’m not saying we should get married right away. I know the timing isn’t good. But later, even if it’s after the war.”

She leaned forward and gave me a lingering kiss. “I’d be happy to, love,” she said softly. “Very happy.”

“Good.” I grinned at her.

She sat back a little and shook her head. “Well, you deciding to marry another woman - or two - isn’t going to fit everyone’s expectations. But, of course, I know better than to expect you to care in the least about honoring tradition or following social mores rather than just doing what you want.”

I shrugged, still grinning. “You do know me well.”

Her expression turned thoughtful. “And I suppose you’d want to marry Yarani after you marry me.”

“That would probably be easier,” I agreed.

“Well, I’m alright with it if she and Kajare are.” Tenira smiled again and put a hand at the back of my neck, pulling me towards her. “Now, we have something better to do than discussing the details.”

Work, I decided, really could wait. It was cuddling time.