Emperor Alexia leaned back in her chair, taking a moment to let the food settle. Her chefs had outdone themselves tonight, and after three months on Pax, she had never appreciated their efforts more.

A dizzying array covered the table. Thin slices of rare meat surrounded by a variety of sweet and spicy sauces to dip them in. Buttered and herbed vegetables. Fruit tarts and flaky pastries and sculpted chocolates almost too beautiful to eat. A delight and a relief after weeks of the bland, delicate flavors the Dragon considered “refined.”

This hadn’t been the most trying Shadow Court she had ever attended, but it was high on the list.

Which was why dinner tonight was a small, private affair. A diversion. Of course Shadow Court was meant to be a diversion all on its own, an attempt to bury the oppressive feel of the Eclipse under the dazzle of parties and politics. It was a tradition stretching back to the very first Emperor, and each Shadow Court achieved its purpose to greater or lesser degrees.

If Alexia were to judge, this Nita-hosted court had been a failure at every level. The kindest compliment she could offer was that no wars had started, and no one had actually died of boredom. She couldn’t wait for the end of the Eclipse and escape.

But this, tonight, was a delight: a quiet evening with good friends. Friends who had even managed, for her sake, to pretend for this one night that they got along.

On one side of the table, consider Dahle Roderich—the Iron Swan, lord of his clan, Lord Marshal of the Empire. Alexia’s right hand. Her sword, her protector, her judge and executioner. A man of immutable honor and intemperate honesty.

Roderich was as handsome as anyone would expect of the Lord of the Swan, but he had never in his life been one to follow the ever-fickle fashions of the court. His clothes were well-tailored, but plain, deep navy with a few bits of silver trim that drew too much attention to the silver that had begun to spread through his sleek, black hair. Neither color was of a tone that sat well against the dark bronze of his skin. Not that Roderich had ever cultivated an eye for what looked good on him, but this was particularly egregious. Alexia suspected this might be his own rebellion—one Roderich didn’t even know he was making—against what had been a long, tedious Shadow Court.

Across from him, consider Miyōshi Tōru, leader of the Serpent. Many names for Tōru were whispered by those foolish enough to believe they could speak words he wouldn’t hear: Lord of Shadows, Master of Assassins, Father of Lies. Tōru, who hid his face from the world behind the masks that were the trademark of his clan. Whose Serpents moved in all the places Roderich’s marshals could not, who made certain that, high and low, nothing happened in her empire without Alexia’s knowledge.

The Swan and the Serpent had ever been at odds, the two clans always at the center of the Imperial Court, always fighting for control in their own particular ways. But that was politics. There was a very personal enmity between Tōru and Roderich, one that neither had ever been willing to explain to Alexia’s satisfaction. Tonight, at least, they’d managed to keep the barbs and the taunts to a minimum.

Mostly.

“I’m going to have to have a talk with Kosuri Andri.” Even in this informal setting, Roderich’s posture was stiffly perfect, and he bowed his head as he spoke to Alexia. “It’s one thing to ask Ambassador Kuniko if she has any plans to retire, but he won’t let the question go. No matter how much she insists she has no desire to leave her position. If he wants so badly to be an ambassador—”

Tōru's sigh was overly theatrical. But then, it was entirely for Roderich’s benefit, and as much as Alexia adored Roderich, even she would admit that subtlety was often lost on him.

“Does Lord Miyōshi have a thought to contribute?” Roderich asked with withering politeness.

Tōru's posture was no less correct than Roderich’s, but he managed it with a relaxed comfort. “Andri hides his desires poorly, even for a Swan.”

“I believe that was what I said.”

“No.” Tōru's words were patient, the tone of one explaining something for the hundredth time to a child who was particularly slow to grasp a lesson. “I believe the words from Lord Dahle were that Andri wishes to be an ambassador. That isn’t his goal.”

Now it was Alexia’s turn to sigh as she realized what Tōru was getting at. “Not another one.”

Roderich frowned, looking back and forth between them. “Another what?” An edge of impatience had crept into his voice.

Alexia gave a small wave her her hand, indicating Tōru should answer.

Which he did. “Another aspirant to the title of Imperial Consort.”

One must consider Alexia herself, the twelfth Emperor to rule the Empire of the Four Suns since its inception just over a thousand years ago. Her reign had been mostly peaceful for forty years now—since her predecessor, Eiji Samiksha—Alexia’s several times great aunt—had passed her investiture on to Alexia.

Unlike Alexia, Samiksha had married. Three times. And had another half dozen consorts over the course of her hundred-and-twenty year tenure as Emperor. Alexia had no consort, no spouse, and no interest in that sort of partnership. But some people had trouble understanding that, or simply didn’t want to try. Some people seemed determined to take Alexia’s lack of attachment as a challenge.

It was a sore spot, and everyone in this room knew it. To his credit, Roderich immediately changed the subject. “Prime Minister Sabine has invited us to stay for—”

Roderich stopped as Alexia groaned. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I adore Sabine, but if I have to stay another week in this city—in this fortress.” She gave a theatrical shudder. “The Dragon are, as a people…” She looked to Tōru. “What’s the word I’m searching for?”

“Dull.”

“Yes. Thank you. That’s it.”

Roderich did his best to look offended, although Alexia was fairly certain the impolitic truth was that Roderich agreed.

Shadow Courts occurred every two years, roughly, and the five clans competed in varying degrees to host them. Some families—like the Swan’s Kosuri or the Serpent’s Oshiro—were known for lavish and entertaining courts, and thus won the bids more often than not. Other families were uninterested in the politics and frivolities, and rarely even put their names in the running.

The Nita, the First Family of the Dragon clan and hosts of this court, belonged more in the latter group than the former. After three months, Alexia still hadn’t figured out what had prompted them to fight for this. She hadn’t seen any attempts at political maneuvering, no announcements, no advantage taken. On the whole, from the moment the Imperial Court had arrived, the Dragon hadn’t seemed quite sure what to do with them.

Which had led to a long, boring court. And while she was an expert at creating her own entertainments, she could only work within the constraints of the resources she was given.

Before Alexia could find a more suitable excuse for Roderich to offer Sabine, the door to their private dining room slid open and Miyōshi Shō slipped inside. She had given orders they weren’t to be disturbed for any reason, but Shō was…Shō. Offering a correct—although perfunctory—bow to Alexia, Shō dropped to their knees at Tōru's side, leaning in to whisper in Tōru's ear.

Alexia felt the nima shift around Tōru as he gathered silence to surround himself and Shō. She knew him well enough to recognize it was a reflex, not an attempt to hide from her. But still, it made her curious. “What’s the matter?”

“One of Sur Roderich’s marshals,” Tōru said, without so much as a glance in Roderich’s direction. “He seems to think there’s a matter of sufficient import to justify an intrusion.”

“Who?” Roderich asked, rising.

“Marshal Miyōshi.”

Tōru didn’t need to be any more specific. There was only one member of the Miyōshi family—only one member of the entire Serpent clan—who worked for Roderich. Alexia knew of him—her search for entertainment over the course of this court had led her to familiarize herself with every person in attendance, and Yeijiro had stood out. If for no other reason than the fact he’d been born without any blessings from the nima.

Now, another reason to make note of him—the contempt she could feel from Tōru.

All this and she had yet to meet the boy. “He would interrupt the Emperor’s dinner?” she asked, smiling at Roderich to show she took no real offense.

Still, he tensed. “Excuse me, my Emperor. This is his first time at court. He doesn’t...please excuse me. I’ll only be a moment.”

“Sit down, my friend.” A diversion was a diversion. “By all means, if he wishes to intrude, then we will let him.”

“Please, I couldn’t—”

Alexia waved him to silence and nodded to Shō, who moved with immediate obedience, as quickly and silently as they’d come in.

Tōru's irritation was a soft, barely-there pulse. Alexia made note of it as the door opened again and Shō returned with Yeijiro in tow.

The first thing Alexia noted was that Yeijiro wore no mask, which put him at odds with every Serpent tradition. The next was that he was obviously exhausted. He didn’t so much sink to his knees as crumple. Yeijiro was shaking, and Alexia guessed the hands clasped tight in his lap were less a polite posture and more an attempt to keep them steady. He wasn’t dressed for court, even informal court, and his appearance was a wreck. Dark circles under his eyes, and strands of his long, black hair had pulled free of its braid.

And he had no nima. That much was true. Alexia could feel his presence in the way she could feel every living thing, but he had none of the spark, none of the energy that she was used to.

He was nervous. A little bit afraid. But his voice was steady as he bowed his head and said, “Your Imperial Highness. Lord Dahle. Lord Miyōshi.”

Had Yeijiro stuttered just a bit on the last, or had Alexia imagined it?

Yeijiro lifted his head, addressed Alexia directly. “I must inform her Imperial Highness that her life is in danger.”

He sounded so terribly sincere. Alexia could remember what it was like to be young, when everything was so much drama. “Oh do go on.”

Her response threw him quite obviously off balance. For a moment, he seemed frozen.

Roderich’s embarrassment soared. As did Tōru's annoyance.

Alexia simply felt bad for the young man, who was clearly in over his head. “My dear boy, if we put dinner on hold every time a new plot was hatched, we’d starve.”

But Yeijiro found his voice. “Her Highness’s brother, Kosuri Vivek. Imperial advisors Asher Kala and Nita Anthony. The’ve allied with criminals and traitors. An attack on this fortress and an attempt against the Emperor’s person is imminent.”

One wild claim after the next. Alexia looked to Roderich, whose face was set in tense disapproval. “There is currently no place in the Empire better defended,” he said. “There are more appropriate channels through which you could have made these accusations.”

Yeijiro reached inside his jacket and removed a datastick. He bowed his head as he held it out to Roderich. “I must respectfully suggest I could not. I would offer the Lord Marshal evidence that this conspiracy has corrupted a number of key officials within the fortress. Defenses have been compromised. Even—” he glanced back over his shoulder, then returned to his contrite position. “Even members of the Emperor’s own services—marshals and legionnaires. People close to her Imperial Highness.”

Roderich stared at Yeijiro. He seemed to be struggling to process what Yeijiro had said, so Alexia stepped in. She raised her hand and the nima plucked the datastick from Yeijiro’s fingers and brought it flying to hers. She eyed the port on the wall, but it was connected to the main network that ran through the fortress. Tōru, apparently having the same thought, pulled a small tablet out from an inside pocket and handed it to her.

“The plan is to take advantage of the last full night of the Eclipse,” Yeijiro continued as Alexia opened files. “To assassinate her Highness, cripple our strength, and throw open a gate into darkspace.”

“You can’t open a gate within planetary boundaries,” Alexia murmured as she scrolled quickly through lists of names, resources, and security details. Tōru had leaned in, reading over her shoulder. It was a lot of information to take in all at once, but one thing quickly became clear. “This is a credible threat.”

“More than credible,” Tōru agreed.

Not against Alexia personally. For all the elaborate plans and considerable firepower these renegades and turncoats had set into motion, Alexia was still the Emperor, and all the nima of this world were at her command. But how many others would die? The level of betrayal she could see here…

She had no time to read it closely, but fragments jumped out as she skimmed through a mix of digital files and scans of handwritten letters. Her brother’s signature beneath details of her evening routine. An unsigned note that was recognizably Kala’s handwriting listing names of legionnaires and marshals, frustrating because there was no explanation of what that list had meant. Anthony, who had been at Alexia’s side at a garden party just last night, had signed his name to an analysis of how best to neutralize Roderich and the legionnaires who wouldn’t turn.

People Alexia trusted. People Alexia cared for. They’d planned…Alexia could hardly make sense of it.

Serious now, Alexia handed the tablet to Roderich. “If these plans are in place, if this is happening tonight…now…what do we do?”

Roderich took his own minute to read. Then, still skimming, he yelled, “Kristoph!”

The door opened. Kosuri Kristoph surveyed the room, then calmly joined Roderich, as though this was the sort of situation he dealt with every day.

Kristoph had been mentioned in the document as a target to be eliminated immediately. The other legionnaire on duty, Linnea, her name hadn’t been included anywhere. Did that mean they couldn’t trust her? How was it even possible there were legionnaires who could betray her like this?

“How does this happen?” Alexia asked Tōru as Kristoph and Roderich consulted quietly over the tablet. “How is it we didn’t know anything about this?” Her voice held only the slightest edge of accusation.

Tōru gave a slight shake of his head. “I don’t know.” He sounded calm, but Alexia could feel the churn of anger inside him. This was exactly the sort of thing she depended on him to uncover. This was exactly the sort of thing the Serpent should know.

Although, wasn’t it a Serpent who had brought this?

Alexia returned her attention to Yeijiro, who, forgotten by Roderich, waited on his knees. All the energy had drained out of him. As Alexia watched, he swayed forward and only barely managed to catch himself. Alexia’s mind immediately latched on to something she could fix. “Someone should take charge of the boy. See that he’s looked after.”

Tōru followed her gaze. His expression was hidden behind his mask, but Alexia could feel his frown. “He’s Roderich’s problem.”

Alexia tilted her head, curious. “He’s a Serpent, is he not?”

Tōru returned her question in a cold voice. “Is he?”

Now Alexia was doubly curious. What exactly was Tōru's complaint? “Is this about his lack of gifts?”

Tōru's glare implied she should know better.

Whatever the answer to this mystery, it would have to wait. “Roderich will have his hands full, and in the chaos to come, I would hate to see anything happen to Marshal Miyōshi. It seems only polite to look after the young man who has done us this great service.”

“As you say, my Emperor.” Tōru managed the words with a grace she knew he didn’t feel. But he would do as she asked.

Tōru slipped around the table, avoiding Roderich and Kristoph to go stand next to Yeijiro. As he moved, the nima gathered around him, shrouding him and Yeijiro both. If anyone else came in, they wouldn’t see anyone but Alexia over by the table.

“Yeijiro,” Tōru said softly. The nima were wrapped around him so tightly, Alexia only heard because she was the Emperor.

Yeijiro started, like he’d been half asleep. He looked up, eyes wide. “Lord Miyōshi.”

“Come with me.”

Yeijiro made it to his feet, but exhaustion had robbed him of any grace. As he swayed, he looked towards Roderich, as though seeking permission. Once again, annoyance flared in Tōru. But his voice held only patience as he said, “If Sur Roderich needs you, he can find you.”

Yeijiro nodded and followed Tōru through one of the side doors just as a wave of marshals and legionnaires entered the room. Kristoph detached himself from the group and came to stand next to Alexia. “The Lord Marshal has the situation in hand,” he murmured. “You and I should go someplace safer.”

Trusting her people to do what needed to be done, Alexia allowed herself to be led away.