Alexia sipped her cocktail and looked out over the gardens, only half listening to Kuniko as she talked about various follow-ups to the political maneuvers carried out at Shadow Court.

Until Kuniko said, “Then of course there was that business with the attack.”

Alexia gave her best casual smile. “Dragon business. Nothing we need worry about.”

“Yes, I’m sure an attack from anti-Imperialists timed when the Emperor was in residence was a coincidence, nothing more.”

Alexia checked a sigh and refocused on her companion, since it seemed she wasn’t going to let this go.

It was no surprise. Dahle Kuniko was the Swan’s top ranking ambassador to the Imperial Court. She was smart, perceptive, able to read the most subtle shifts in the tides of politics. With just enough of an empathy gift to make it difficult for anyone to lie to her.

Alexia herself wasn’t used to lying to Kuniko, who was also a very good friend. But this situation—she wasn’t ready to talk about it either.

So she managed her most droll tone and said, “What do you imagine they expected to accomplish? The fortress couldn’t have been better defended. Even if they had gotten through to me—then what? It wasn’t as though I was going to grant them audience, and they could hardly be a threat to my person.”

“They did catch us by surprise.” Kuniko tapped her long, elegant fingers on the table. “How exactly did they manage that? Lord Miyōshi must be seething.”

Alexia gave a little flip of her hand, indicating the matter was beneath her concern.

Kuniko let it go, but she would keep worrying at it. Kuniko wouldn’t be the only one asking questions. Alexia needed to figure out what the official story was going to be, and she needed to do that quickly.

Fortunately, she had the cooperation of the Nita—specifically Prime Minister Sabine and Chancellor Girard. They’d agreed that while the attack itself couldn’t be kept a secret, the suborned officials would be dealt with quietly and that the demon incursion would be kept absolute secret. Trust the Dragon not to want a fuss.

That still left a few messy ends, one of which was purely Alexia’s to deal with. “I’m sorry, Kuniko, dear.” Alexia stood and Kuniko smoothly stood with her. “I must apologize for cutting our breakfast short.”

“Not at all,” Kuniko said with a polite bow. “I knew I was pulling my Emperor away from her retreat. I’m grateful for what time Eiji-más was able to grant me.”

Retreat. That was the story they’d given—her, Roderich, and Tōru. Post-court strategizing. They just hadn’t advertised the topics they’d be discussing. Or the fact that the fourth member of their retreat wasn’t a guest, but a prisoner.

Alexia left the pavilion in which she and Kuniko had been dining and made her way across the grounds. This estate was an old one. It had been gifted to the Imperial family by the final spouse of Eiji Idris, the eighth emperor. When Idris had given up his investiture, the two had lived here in quiet solitude for the rest of their lives. It was a serene, tranquil space, with gardens and forests maintained to isolate the great house at the front from the half dozen other small residences scattered across the property.

Alexia made her way towards the farthest, most isolated of these—a small lodge that had served, over the years, as guest house, art gallery, staff quarters, and—for a notable thirty years in the histories—as the private residence of an Imperial consort who was so aggressively anti-social they never saw any human face other than their Emperor for the entirety of their time together.

This week, the house was serving as a prison. A fact Alexia fervently hoped would not be recorded in history.

Legionnaires—re-vetted by Roderich—patrolled the grounds, maintaining a perimeter around the lodge, but they’d been ordered to keep their distance. The staff had similarly been banished from the lodge while Alexia was in residence. Alexia had even had a stern talk with the nima, explaining they weren’t to listen to Vik, speak with Vik, or even recognize that he was there. This was as close to perfect privacy as could be created.

Only four people, besides Alexia and the prisoner, were allowed in the house.

Alexia was the Emperor. She was the anchor, the focal point, neither entirely human nor entirely spirit, but a blend of the two. When she reached out, she could feel the nima—all the nima—moving through the earth, the air, through every living thing on this world and beyond. As far as her people reached through the Empire of the Four Suns, as far as the nima traveled with them, Alexia could feel and touch and know them.

Without looking, she knew the people around her. Roderich, solid and strong, with an ever present thread of guilt whenever a problem like this happened and he didn’t have an immediate way to fix it. Tōru, whisper soft against her sense, his etheric gift always wrapped so tight around him that only Alexia was sensitive enough to feel him. General Fréneau Dmitri, in charge of the Imperial Legion, whose quiet loyalty was a constant Alexia never doubted.

Kristoph, of course, was the final companion. Kristoph, who was never far from Alexia’s side. Who waited for her just inside the door. “How was Ambassador Kuniko?” he asked politely, after a bow, as she came inside.

“Smart and observant as ever. Asking questions I can’t answer.” She looked up the stairs, to the second floor where Vivek was being held. “It’s time to deal with that.” Feeling resolute, Alexia gestured for Kristoph to follow. “It’s time to talk to my brother.”