Yeijiro had managed to avoid any further confrontations with Elena, but he was relieved the Emperor had returned to the palace, which meant Roderich was back as well. Yeijiro was ready to have an assignment again—something useful to do.

In fact, he very quickly received a summons to Roderich’s office. Upon arrival, Roderich gave him a quick, appraising look and said, “You’re prompt, at least. Which is good. The Emperor wishes to meet with you.”

This was a surprise. “The Emperor?” Roderich’s brow pulled together and Yeijiro remembered himself. “Yes, Lord Marshal, of course.”

He had met the Emperor, but Yeijiro’s memories of that evening were sketchy. He’d been so tired, so focused on delivering his message, he had barely been aware of who he was talking to.

Also, Tōru had been in the room. That had been…distracting.

At least Roderich was coming with him. He wouldn’t be meeting her alone. “What will her Highness expect from me?”

“She only wishes to know you better. Be yourself. Be respectful. Remember your actions and words reflect on me.”

Yeijiro walked with Roderich. Not to the throne room, as he’d expected, but to the wing of the palace that was Alexia’s private space. Everything here was open and airy. Wide arches and curving windows offered no barrier to the outside, and colorful, fragrant gardens wove through, inside and out. Waterfalls and fountains cascaded down from second and third stories into courtyards that opened to the sky. The legionnaires on guard nodded to Roderich and directed him to a small private parlor where Alexia waited.

She wasn’t alone. Tōru sat in the chair at her side.

Yeijiro dropped to his knees—more gracefully than he’d managed the first time he’d been in Alexia’s presence. “Your Imperial Highness.”

“Yeijiro.”

Over the course of the shadow court, Yeijiro had been in the same room as Alexia a few times. The Emperor liked to move among her people. But he’d never been this close; he’d never been in a position to get a good look, to study the woman who was the living embodiment of the power of the nima.

Beautiful was too pedestrian a word for Alexia. She was radiant, surrounded with an aura of life and power that even Yeijiro—who had no connection to the nima at all—could feel. Her dark amber skin was flawless and smooth, showing no signs of age, and there was not a bit of gray in the soft waves of black hair that reached down her back. She commanded one’s attention, stole one’s breath, and called out to the part of Yeijiro that so desperately wanted to prove himself.

She was, in a word, magnificent. “How may I serve her Highness?”

“I believe you already have, my dear boy,” she said breezily. “And well done. You are a credit to both your lord and your clan.”

Had there been a slight inflection on that last word? Yeijiro risked a glance at Tōru, who sat inscrutable, as always, behind a burnished, multi-layered, black leather mask. Next to Alexia’s grandeur, another man might have seemed diminished, but Tōru seemed to fit beside her, as perfect as her own shadow.

Tōru, who Yeijiro hadn’t seen or heard from since that night at the Golden Moon. Tōru was watching him, but what Tōru was thinking, Yeijiro couldn’t guess.

“I want you to know,” Alexia continued, “how much I appreciate your actions, the risks you took, the courage you’ve shown.” Her eyes were intense, like she was staring into his soul. “You have my deepest gratitude.”

Yeijiro felt himself flush under the combined weight of her scrutiny and her regard. “It was no more than my duty.”

“If only everyone in the Empire believed as you do.” She leaned back in her chair, rested her chin on her fingers, still studying him.

Tōru, too, had his eyes on Yeijiro. Yeijiro couldn’t help but think about the last time Tōru had watched him like that. Of being on his knees, Tōru's fingers brushing his cheek—

Yeijiro cut that memory off, forced himself to focus. He was before the Emperor. That was what mattered. That was the only thing he should be thinking about.

Alexia continued to study him as she went on. “Now I must deliver the bad news. Despite the service you’ve performed, I can’t offer you the recognition you deserve. There will be no reward, no public acknowledgement of what you’ve done.”

Yeijiro’s head jerked up before he caught himself. Surprise twisted his gut.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Yeijiro could actually feel the warmth of her sympathy. “I truly am. But this matter—it must remain a secret. The true purpose of the attack, the conspiracy, the conspirators—I can’t have any of it known outside this room.”

Yeijiro had never in his life enjoyed being at the center of attention. Now he bore the silent scrutiny of three of the most powerful people in the Empire. How visible was his disappointment? How much could they see?

Hopefully he managed a certain serenity when he said, “I understand.”

“Do you?” Alexia asked. It didn’t sound like a rhetorical question.

So Yeijiro took the risk of answering. “It would be a poor idea to advertise the ways in which Imperial defenses nearly failed. Or that her Imperial Highness was betrayed by a member of her own family.” Now he was actually thinking about it, letting his mind trace this logic, he realized just how naive he’d been to think this business—and his role in it—could ever have been made public.

And he was still working through it. “The larger attack, that’s going to raise questions, but the conspiracy did half the cover-up work for her Highness, disguising their actions and resources by working with known criminals. No one will know it was specifically targeting the Emperor. Although people will wonder what the attack was supposed to accomplish. Of course, even knowing their purpose, one has to wonder what the attack was supposed to accomplish. Their target was clear, but what was the next step? What did they want...” Yeijiro realized he was thinking out loud, perilously close to rambling. In front of the Emperor. In front of Roderich and Tōru.

Alexia had been watching him with an expression of polite interest. He couldn’t tell if he’d given a suitable answer to her question. But she nodded as his pause stretched out and it became clear he wasn’t going to continue.

“Of course, I remain grateful for the service you’ve performed,” she continued smoothly. “I promise it will not be forgotten.”

Yeijiro bowed low, touching his forehead to the cool tile floor. “I thank her Highness.”

“Thank you, my Emperor,” Roderich echoed and gestured for Yeijiro to follow him out.

As they walked together back towards the Lord Marshal’s office, Roderich offered no critique on Yeijiro’s performance before the Emperor. Instead, he spoke—rather brusquely—of Yeijiro’s next assignment.

“Since you already have an understanding of certain criminal elements working on Pax, you’ll be working with Marshal Elena on research into the tax situation there. Given what we just saw, I believe there is more money going astray than we previously understood.”

Yeijiro was happy to do this, even if he wasn’t sure Elena would be so happy about it. But after the audience he’d just had, he had to ask. “Forgive me, Lord Marshal, but if the matter of the conspiracy is to remain a secret, if no other marshals are to be involved, does my lord not need me to continue—”

“That investigation is closed.” Roderich’s voice held a cold finality that surprised Yeijiro.

It put him off balance enough to argue. “But there are still questions. The conspirators—”

Roderich gave him a sharp look. “Did I mishear you, Marshal Yeijiro? Are you arguing with my order and that of the Emperor?”

Yeijiro bowed his head. “No, Lord Marshal.”

“You are dismissed,” Roderich said in that same icy tone.

Disturbed by Roderich’s sudden displeasure, Yeijiro retreated.

Had Yeijiro done something wrong? Roderich had seemed almost angry. Had Elena said something to him? Had Yeijiro so quickly fallen out of favor?

With those questions churning in his mind, and the depressing knowledge that he’d have to put himself in Elena’s hands first thing in the morning, Yeijiro decided on a quiet dinner at home and early to bed. He’d need to be at his best tomorrow.

Yeijiro had been installed in an apartment within the Swan compound in the center of the palace, not far from the golden domes that rose above the Emperor’s throne room. Roderich liked to keep the marshals who resided in the capitol close at hand, and there were a number of them assigned to the graceful, curving structure that was Yeijiro’s new home.

No one could accuse this of being a bland, government building. With domed glass ceilings and windows cast in the shape of flying swans, it was a work of art—like everything the Swan touched.

Yeijiro passed through the open front doors and felt a tingle run through him—the nima keeping watch. This was the same security used so many places. If someone didn’t belong—if the nima didn’t recognize the person who passed through, an alarm would be raised.

Except the nima didn’t see Yeijiro. At least, they didn’t recognize him as a person like all the rest. This measure was useless against someone like him. No one seemed to care. Maybe because there weren’t more than a bare handful of people like him throughout the entire Empire. Or maybe because no one wanted to think about those without gifts, as though it might be catching.

The building’s inner courtyard was a sunken garden complete with a miniature lake on which two living swans floated.The sweet smells of honeysuckle and lavender filled the air, floating over the subtle tang of greenery.

Yeijiro could appreciate the grace and elegance, but like any good Serpent, he also recognized how shallow it was. In the Swan’s quest for beauty, perfect and transcendent, their art became weightless and soft and transient. Art that didn’t capture the whole of human experience was ultimately meaningless, and what human had ever existed in a world of nothing but joy and light?

But Yeijiro could only be so critical of the design choices. He loved his little apartment. It was utter luxury, far nicer than anyplace he’d lived before. The public space was large enough he could have half a dozen people in here to sit comfortably and talk. The bedroom had a balcony that overlooked another garden. He had an office and his own kitchen with a counter to sit at. Most amazing of all, the bathroom included an actual bath. Not large, but indulgently deep.

Yeijiro palmed open the electronic lock and opened his door to find several messages had been dropped through the mail slot. Announcements of palace performances, and an advertisement for a new restaurant in the Golden City and…

On top of the rest, a heavy black coin—a token for a pleasure house. On the front, the embossed shape of some flower. On the back, nothing.

There was no note, no explanation. Not even a name on the token to tell Yeijiro what house it belonged to. No question this was an invitation, and Yeijiro was fairly sure he knew from who, but it was also a test. “Come find me if you can.”

With the sting of Roderich’s rebuke still fresh in his mind, Yeijiro determined he was going to earn someone’s approval today. And so he set to work.