Alexia sat with Roderich on a balcony overlooking one of the palace lawns. Below, an impromptu competition had broken out among a number of the younger members of the court. Julian’s doing, Alexia suspected, even if she was too far way to hear any of the conversation from Roderich’s son or any of the others. But Julian was at the center of it. Julian was always at the center of it.

“Peacocks preening their feathers,” Roderich muttered.

“Oh come now.” Alexia had leaned back in her chair, trying to relax. She was halfway through her second glass of fruited wine and sent a sharp, meaningful look at his own glass, which was still full. “They’re having fun. It’s no sin.”

“Yes, my Emperor,” he answered reflexively, as Julian took up position against a Griffon half again his size. Another Swan—whose name Alexia couldn’t summon just then—attached the fluttering ribbon that would be the opponent’s goal to Julian’s left arm. Julian drew his sword, stood ready, his form perfect.

Everything about Julian was studiously perfect—exactly what one would expect from the only child of the Lord of the Swan. All the young people at court gravitated to him. Even older courtiers looked to him to set the trends. On her return from Shadow Court, Alexia had made note of Julian’s new hair—now a bright, electric blue, cut in a wild, ragged style that suggested a crest of feathers. Alexia had asked if fashion had changed so much while she’d been on Pax. Julian had responded with a confident, “Fashion is what I say it is.”

Alexia remembered what it was like to be young, didn’t begrudge him his casual arrogance. Julian’s birth had granted him entry into court, but he’d worked hard to get where he was. On top of that, it couldn’t have been easy, being Roderich’s son.

A sudden flurry of action as Julian and the Griffon moved with the blinding speed of the nima-favored. Julian parried the Griffon’s blow, deflecting it and dancing away. Roderich’s mouth and eyes had gone tight with disapproval. “He’s showing off. The Mathisen boy was off balance. Julian had to have seen that. He could have ended the fight right then.”

“He’s young.”

“He’s an adult,” Roderich grumbled. “It’s time he learned to act like one.”

“They’re all children, my dear. The lot.” So many young faces in the court. Alexia sipped her drink and smiled as Julian executed a flashy, pointless spin that, all the same, left the Griffon’s ribbon in tatters. “He does present an image, doesn’t he?”

Alexia couldn’t help but make comparisons in her head between Julian and Alexander. Both boys were close in age—Alexander nineteen to Julian’s twenty-two. But where Julian fought hard to keep his iron grip on the fickle gaze of the court, Alexander seemed just as happy to be overlooked.

A new opponent had stepped up to face Julian. A swan girl Alexia recognized as one of Dmitri’s students. Alexia had seen her fight; she should offer Julian an actual challenge.

On any day, Alexia enjoyed watching the youth of the court at play. But today, in particular, it was a needed escape. Her previous meeting with Tōru had been uncomfortable.

“Speaking of the youth of the court, how is Yeijiro settling in?”

Roderich’s surprise and confusion were a low buzz against Alexia’s senses. “My Emperor?”

“Has he made any friends?”

Roderich dragged his attention away from Julian and the girl. “Friends? How would I know?”

“How indeed?” Alexia asked.

But her sarcasm was lost on Roderich. “I don’t make a habit of intruding on the personal lives of those who work for me.”

Below, Julian and the girl squared off. Alexia could see the tension, the flow of their bodies as they shifted, adjusting balance and angles ever so slightly to try to gain an edge for that first strike.

An edge the girl found before Julian. Her sword sliced through the air, coming within a hair of his ribbon, nearly ending things in that very first breath.

“Do you worry about him fitting in? Yeijiro,” she reminded Roderich at his pulse of confusion. “He’s a Serpent.”

“He’s a marshal,” Roderich answered with finality. “No different than any other.” He sucked in a sharp breath as Julian barely avoided another clever move.

Alexia reminded herself that subtle conversations with Roderich simply didn’t work.

The trouble was, since the estate, he’d been even touchier than usual. He was responding badly to the business with Vivek. She should talk to him about that.

Right as soon as she moved past responding badly herself.

Kristoph’s quiet approach signaled it was time to go. Further talk with Roderich—on any topic—was going to have to wait.

Third time was the charm for the girl fighting Julian. A sudden lunge that he couldn’t avoid, and his ribbon went flying. Julian bowed, gracious in defeat.

“My Emperor,” came Kristoph’s polite interruption.

“Thank you, darling, I know.” Her break was over. Time to get back to work.

Roderich stood with her, bowed. “Thank you for the company.”

“My pleasure, as always.”

Kristoph walked with her, quiet, and Alexia could feel his concern—a familiar thread in his tapestry of emotions. Alexia knew him as she knew all her subjects, from the inside out. His warmth, his humor, his strength; his interest in the people around him, and strongest of all, his utter devotion to her, to Roderich, to his duty.

All that came wrapped in an undeniably pretty package. Kristoph was highly blessed by the nima, the physical embodiment of everything the Swan so desperately chased. Every line of his tall, muscular body, every graceful movement, every word spoken in his smooth, cultured tone, was a master class of perfection.

And today, something new. “You changed your hair,” Alexia said.

“One must follow where Lord Julian leads.” His formal tone eased, and he flashed a brief smile. “It’s fun. What do you think?”

The peacock-colors that Julian had started had spread quickly through the court. Kristoph had gone with a more muted, but still richly toned blue-violet that faded to a sky blue at the ends of his long, coiled braids. The particular temperature of the blue was a perfect tonal match to his deep, black skin. Not an accident. “I like the color, and I’m glad you didn’t chop it short like everyone else is doing.”

“There are hard limits to what I’ll sacrifice for fashion.”

Alexia couldn’t hold back her smile. “Roderich’s creature, through and through.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He nodded to the legionnaires on guard at the doors leading out of Alexia’s private wing. They bowed, swung the doors open.

Once they’d passed out of earshot of the guards, Kristoph asked, “Is everything all right?”

Everyone was on edge, still. It made Kristoph more forward, Roderich more prickly, and Tōru more…Tōru. “A difficult meeting this morning. It’s nothing.”

He nodded, accepting her evasion. Kristoph, even on edge, would never push her. Which only brought into relief Alexia’s own response to stress, and she had to remind herself that Kristoph was the person she talked to.

“I’m sorry, my darling. I’m not trying to keep things from you. It’s only that…”

“Lord Miyōshi continues to poke at things,” Kristoph supplied. Astute as ever.

“It is his duty.” They crossed into a courtyard with another cluster of courtiers out enjoying the sunny day. Alexia pulled the nima closer to her and Kristoph, not wanting to be seen. Not wanting to deal, right now, with being the Emperor. “I simply wish…”

“That it were over. I know.”

Not to mention the guilt Alexia had been feeling for the secrets she was keeping. But Tōru was already struggling against the sense he’d failed—that he should have been the one to bring this plot to Alexia’s attention. That his own network of informants should have discovered it long before one of Roderich’s marshals.

But even the Serpent weren’t infallible. Not that Alexia would have ever said that to him. Not when he knew it himself.

“He wants to find a reason.” Tōru took his refuge in reason. If he could understand the world, if he could see the clockworks driving everything, that was how he took comfort. Verses Roderich, who didn’t have to understand. He simply wanted to see order, peace, everything in its place.

Both Tōru and Roderich were struggling in the aftermath, fighting their own personal demons. Alexia didn’t need to bring them more questions if, with a bit more patience, she could possibly give them answers.

Kristoph, sensitive to her moods as ever, changed the subject. “I heard my Emperor and Lord Dahle discussing Marshal Miyōshi.”

“The young man did save my life. I wanted to make sure he was adapting well to palace life.”

“Of course.” Kristoph, like any good courtier, could layer all kinds of implications into two simple words. Polite agreement and disbelief, all at the same time.

“You have something to say?”

She could feel his amusement, his affection, although he kept his expression schooled in a perfect mask of disinterest. “While I do know how much Eiji-más likes to mother-hen, and I’m certain there are excellent reasons for looking after Marshal Miyōshi, my suspicion is that Eiji-más may be…what’s the word I’m looking for? Projecting?”

“Excuse me?”

“That there’s someone else my Emperor is worried about, that she wishes she could look after. Except that someone is half an Empire away, out of reach, and so she must find other ways to distract herself.”

“I have plenty to distract myself with, thank you very much.” The trouble with Kristoph was that he knew her too well. Even if she hadn’t told him about the mirror, about her continuing private talks with Corinne.

“Are the ambassadors assembled?” she asked.

Kristoph recognized the change of subject, bowed his head. “They await my Emperor’s arrival.” But he couldn’t hide that bit of sparkle in his eye.

Because he was right, and they both knew it.

Just for that, she’d make him sit with her through what was going to be a very tedious meeting. Then after…

After, well, if it was a distraction he thought she needed, then perhaps it was time for Lady Snow to send out a fresh batch of invitations.