Their grandmother had her back to them, looking out a window slightly ajar from her chair. A gust of wind caressed them. “So my grandson has returned. Who was that woman with you?”

“Lady Lara, a distant cousin to the main line of Lady Eminent Alexa Luxuria,” Aspyr said. “She is also kin to the Empress, and acts as High Stewardess of the Greater Seraglio.”

“More importantly,” Father interjected, “she’s here to take one of your granddaughters away.”

“It is the Empress’ edict,” Aspyr said. “We cannot refuse Her lightly.”

“Then make up an excuse!” Father said.

Grandmother signaled to her servant, who helped her stand to face them. “Let us hear what Aspyrtus has to say first.”

“The Empress held court thrice while I was in Aelisium,” Aspyr said. “She neither confirmed, nor denied our status as a house external each time, though She upheld that those who’ve sworn fealty to us in the past would remain our vassals in either case.”

“She has chosen not to meddle then,” Grandmother said. “That leaves our fate undecided, for Lord Pleonexia is not likely to grant us his warrant, but neither will the other lords external care for the precedence he is trying to set.”

“Might we return to the greater concern?” Father asked. “We are being asked to send one of our own into a slaughter. You must refuse, Aspyr!”

“You cannot refuse, Aspyr,” Mydea said, heart pounding loudly against her ears.

Her father’s eyes darkened to the shade of a coming storm.

“There’s nothing more to discuss,” Mydea continued. “With this invite, the Empress is offering us Her ear, for however long that lasts. I might convince her still, or at the very least be kept abreast of the happenings in Aelisium. Need I remind you that Lord Pleonexia’s younger brother, the Prince-Consort Pythos, ensures he has a means of petitioning the Empress year round?”

“You are not even fully healed yet from your blood sacrifice to Nomos!” Father said.

She flexed her fingers. “I am getting stronger by the day. Besides, the battles at court are fought with words more than swords.”

“Assuming you are not challenged to a duel,” Aspyr said, deep-set green eyes only deepening with worry. “Are you sure about this?”

“What other choice do we have?” Mydea asked. “I am of age, while Chalsi has yet to finish her studies and is too young to wed.” Too young and too sweet. “It is clear the invitation was aimed for me, though I do not understand why.”

Father turned to Grandmother. “Ephyra, please, we’ve never seen eye to eye, but surely you agree that this is rank foolishness. We cannot let her throw away her life like this!”

“She is right,” Grandmother said in a small voice. “It is the only choice. We require someone at court to ensure Lord Pleonexia’s brother does not convince the Empress against our status as a house external. That would be a death knell for our family.”

“Damn you! Has ambition blinded you all?” Father asked. “To save our family you would throw away one of our own?”

“It need not end that way,” Mydea said.

“We cannot offer you much help from here,” Grandmother said. “You will be alone.”

“I understand,” Mydea said, “but you may not need to. Few outside the Deeplands remember House Kolchis, tucked away as we are in a tiny corner of the Empire. I shall draw no attention to myself, earn us no more enemies, and no further scorn.” That was a game she knew well. She’d played it many times at the Thalassian Athenaeum against worse odds than this.

Father scowled. “You are to compete for a prince’s hand in marriage. You will make enemies.”

“Some, perhaps, but no more than necessary,” Mydea said. “And once I have lost this contest and come home, most will be too far away to bother with us.”

“You seem certain you will lose,” Father said.

“We have nothing to offer the Empress, or even a prince,” Mydea said. Beset by barbarians and scorned by their overlord, no one could truly think House Kolchis could raise its banners for a faraway struggle. “If they’ve any sense, I will not be chosen.”

And she knew the Empress to be a sensible woman. Some might disagree, saying the Empress had ascended to the Starlight Crown by merely surviving the purges, but such people forget their history. One did not remain Empress for the better part of three decades by merely surviving.

Besides, even if she were chosen, it would neatly solve her family’s current predicament. Lord Pleonexia would hesitate pressuring them any further once they were tied to the House Imperial, for that risked piercing the veil of neutrality he’d weaved for himself among the vying Imperial factions forming around the Empress’ children. To stand against a prince would push him into one of the coming succession’s many sides, and that was a heavy price to pay for keeping his grudge.

“We’ll need to arrange a party to accompany you,” Aspyr said. “A small retinue at least. We can spare a few knights and mages.”

“Even with the new taxes, our coffers will empty long before you even come close to impressing the Imperial Court,” Mydea said. She could hear the faint cries of the Weeping and Wailing River outside, and that made her worry. “I will take my lady’s maid with me and no one else.”

“You cannot mean to go alone,” Grandmother said.

“You cannot mean to go at all!” said Father.

She forced a smile onto her lips. I cannot rob House Kolchis of its lord, not with winter at our doorsteps. “Listen to the river.”

All three fell quiet for a moment, and then Aspyr cursed softly beneath his breath. “It sounds fainter than it should.”

“A cold winter,” Grandmother said.

Mydea nodded. A cold winter meant a slowing of the rivers, making them easier to ford. It meant longer nights and shorter days and more Tuskar raids. They had few enough swords as it were without having to fight on two fronts. No one could be spared for her sake. “The Empress will be bored of me before you’ve even learned to miss me, and I’ll be dismissed from court. Don’t worry so much.”

“Famous last words.” Aspyr sighed.

“As long as they’re famous,” she said with more confidence than she felt.

“If I cannot convince you from this foolishness, then allow me to go with you. I will destroy any duelist that dares come after you,” Father said.

“You mean to bring your research into the Imperial City?” she asked with a spark of hope. She would not normally consider bringing her father, but if he kept himself sequestered in the Archives for the most part … it was a manageable risk. Even the might of a middling spell might give Lord Pleonexia pause, but first Father had to succeed in finishing his spell.

The athenaeums produced hundreds of men and women who sought out spell secrets, but few ever succeeded. A half-finished work would impress no one.

“Of course not,” Father said. “Aelisium is too dangerous to bring my work to. I would not chance someone discovering it half-done, not when even a whisper of this working would see us embroiled in a war by next summer's coming. Besides, what could the works of others possibly offer me?”

There again was his damnable pride. “You cannot come then,” Mydea said. “Who knows how long I will be a guest of the Empress? It could be months. It is not in your nature to be agreeable, and it would be self-defeating to bring you if I wish to avoid unnecessary enmity.” Even with an oath sworn before the Pantheon, could her father control himself for so long a time, especially deprived of his usual pastime? Mydea doubted it, and it would be the death of her father thrice over.

His shoulders slumped. “You could die. Do you understand that?”

“All of us could die from a misstep. I understand it too well, and it is why I must go without you,” Mydea said. “You cannot help me if you do not bring your work.”

Father spun on his heel and stormed out with tight balls of hand.

“I shall make a blood sacrifice to Ygeia for your good health,” Grandmother declared.

“Grandmother, your health—” Mydea said.

“Your health should be your only concern,” she said. “If the Great Gods should take my life to spare yours, I shall consider that a bargain more than fair. Remember my lessons, dear.”

“I will. You’ve taught me well,” Mydea said. “I must go pack.”

Grandmother nodded. “Go.”