"That's not what I learned at my da's knee," Aly retorted. Her mental image of people executed by righteous natives was too awful for her to let Ochobu's prejudices stand without argument. "The raka used to kill all the time. Your nobles and your rather temporary queens in the years before the luarin came were so busy battling each other that you didn't have the strength to fight off an invasion. By the time you banded together, it was too late."
"I know that," Ochobu growled, mashing her berries with ferocity. "All of us who inherited this mess know."

...

Ochobu laid her pestle aside. "We have lived too long as tenants on lands that our foremothers owned. I know that. I know what is at stake. I can see for myself that a certain young woman is royal in two bloodlines, and that seems to fit the prophecy. But I am no lapdog, trained to roll onto my back for you or any other luarin. I am here to make up my own mind."
Aly brushed a speck from her sleeve. "Then let me tell you something I've observed. Those you call luarin here, including the ones who are part luarin, part raka - they aren't citizens of the Eastern or Southern Lands. They see themselves as Kyprians. They took your land's names for thier own. They've made the Isles prosper. I think they've earned the right to stay, if they don't side with the Rittevons when the time comes."
"Is the god speaking through you?" Ochobu demanded, eyes flinty. "Or just you?"
Aly fought the urge to give Nawat's shrug for a reply. "I assume the god picked me for my opinions as well as my skills, however temporary I might be. I am an outsider. Sometimes we see more clearly than those who live inside the problem."
"I'll be better off when you leave," Ochobu complained. For the moment she sagged, the lines of her face deepening. "You've given me a headache. Go away."
Aly went.