Sunna nodded. “I told her to meet us by the back courtyard. You don’t need to go in to her.”
Myril wanted to go in to Iola, but she also wanted to leave the temple. She let loose one glance of unguarded longing to the ambassadress’s gate, then followed Sunna to the tea urn and drank a cup in quick gulps.
Sunna walked to the back courtyard with her, but the guildsmen hadn’t arrived. They stood awkwardly inside the gate, waiting.
“I have to go,” Sunna said. “Best of luck.”
“Thank you,” Myril replied. She looked out at the streets, the naked, quotidian streets, and steeled herself for that world. The temple had been a shield around her all these years. She would never be a scrappling again, but she couldn’t help but think of that time as she looked out. This was the place where they’d wai
