Palamedes smiles faintly. He holds his memories of Camilla Hect close to his chest, as though sharing her too broadly might taint her, somehow. And yet, the fact of her—imagining what she would be, longing for her presence, fighting tooth and nail to return to her—consumes much of his waking hours.

“You could say that she is my bodyguard. But it might be just as accurate to say that I am hers.” He shakes his head a little.

“I haven’t decided. And mine is not the only voice that matters. The Sixth doesn’t operate like that.” He pauses, and in an almost dismissive way he adds, “Perhaps we will put some distance between ourselves and the rest of the Emperor’s Houses. Or perhaps we will merely write him a strongly-worded letter.”