A Desolation Called Peace (Teixcalaan, #2)

by Arkady Martine

Some emperors are emperors of very narrow spaces, just enough to fill entirely with themselves,

All ships burn the same,

exile happened in the heart and the mind long before it happened to the body that moved in space, across borders—

Soldier food. Warm enough to keep the vacuum out of your bones, or make you feel like it might.