Yeijiro spent most of the next day distracted. So hard to focus on the records he was trying to sort when there was a bigger, more interesting puzzle in his head.

Vin had come by, asking him to lunch, and that had been a welcome break, but the meal had been a quiet one, with Yeijiro having trouble pulling out of his own head. Fortunately, Vin, as ever, seemed as comfortable with silence as with conversation, and at the end had simply wished Yeijiro luck with whatever had him so distracted.

Yeijiro made it to the end of the day, and was packing up his folders and notes to escape when Elena came into the library and pointed. “You. My office. Now.”

Yeijiro froze for a moment before reflex took over and he bowed. “Yes, Shai Lindsay.”

On the walk to her office, Yeijiro fought back the flare of panic. Did she know about the files? The protected files? What else could this be about?

He couldn’t pretend he didn’t know he was breaking the rules. But after last night, with Corinne, he couldn’t regret his decision either. Roderich might have declared the investigation closed—and after reading the vivid account of Kosuri Vivek’s death, Yeijiro couldn’t blame him for wanting to be done with it—but Yeijiro had felt from the start that there were still loose threads and his talk with Corinne had only confirmed that instinct.

Which was not an excuse, and Elena likely wouldn’t accept it as one, but Yeijiro was coming to suspect the Emperor might still be very much in danger, and he couldn’t regret any choices made towards finding answers that would protect her. Ultimately, that was his job.

They reached Elena’s office, and she took a seat behind her desk. She didn’t invite him to sit. “So,” she said. “Is there anything you would like to confess?”

“Is there something Shai Lindsay believes I’ve done wrong?” The formal manners were instinct. Too late, at the deeper twist of Elena’s frown, he remembered she didn’t like that.

“Don’t be coy,” she snapped. “We both know what you’ve done. It will go better for you if you admit it.”

But Yeijiro recognized this for a trap. She was fishing. He couldn’t imagine this approach working on anyone, but certainly not someone raised a Serpent. “I’m afraid I don’t know what Shai—what you would like me to confess.”

Which was truth, as far as that went. The trouble was, he was absolutely guilty of something, and had no reason to believe that guilt wasn’t written all over his face.

But at the very least, he would make her voice the accusation before he said anything.

“Are you going to then deny you’ve been engaging in secret meetings with Lord Miyōshi?”

Yeijiro blinked. That was...not at all what he’d been ready for.

Elena waited, saying nothing.

As Yeijiro’s mind raced through approaches to navigate this. “I have met with Lord Miyōshi, yes.”

“And what was the purpose of these meetings?”

Yeijiro’s cheeks heated. “They were private meetings between Lord Miyōshi and myself.”

“No.” She pointed a finger at him. “None of that. You don’t get to sneak around to the Serpent Lord behind my back and then claim privacy.”

Evasion was key here. Because he couldn’t tell her the truth. She would absolutely pass it along to Roderich, which would get Yeijiro in trouble with everyone. But neither could he lie convincingly enough she wouldn’t see it.

“Lord Miyōshi keeps a close eye on every Serpent in the palace. Would you ask that I refuse an invitation from the Lord of my clan?”

Elena leaned back in her chair, studying him. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re an agent or simply a fool. Although if you’re secretly working for him, you’re doing it badly. But then, maybe that’s the game. Make me think you’re an incompetent mole, so I won’t watch too close.

“On the other hand, in the unlikely event you’re actually acting in good faith, then you’re an idiot. How many times do I have to show you the games he plays with marshals? It is, I believe, his singular joy in life to ruin the good people who serve Roderick.”

There was nothing Yeijiro could say to that. No protestation he made would be persuasive to her.

“Make a choice, Miyōshi. Figure out who you work for. And do it soon.”

Corinne returned to Yeijiro’s apartment that evening, showing up at Yeijiro’s doorstep with take-out in one hand and a messenger bag slung over her other shoulder.

They spread the food on the counter and the clues on the floor. Corinne had done something to all the crumbling fragments to make them more stable, so Yeijiro felt comfortable touching them, moving them into different configurations as they ate.

All day, he’d been looking forward to tonight, to working more on this puzzle, but now that Corinne was here and the work was before him, he couldn’t stop thinking—and worrying—about Elena.

At first he felt guilty, that he wasn’t giving the work his full attention. That he owed Corinne better. But then it occurred to him, he could actually talk to Corinne—like a friend.

“Marshal Elena was unhappy with me today,” he said carefully, unsure exactly how to start.

Corinne looked up from the bits of paper. “Yeah?”

Just that simple question, as though this were a perfectly normal conversation to be having. Which, perhaps it was. So he told her what had happened, concluding with, “And it’s even worse if she brings this all to the Lord Marshal’s attention. He won’t think better of me for it.”

Corinne nodded. “I have to say, I don’t envy you. Trying to navigate between those two.”

And she didn’t know the half of it. “It’s complicated.”

“Ha! I bet. Mother says…” Corinne popped some chicken into her mouth and Yeijiro couldn’t tell if the pause was for that, or if she’d thought better of what she was about to say.

So he waited. And she chewed. And swallowed. And looked away. “Look, this is politics, which I can’t even pretend to understand.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Corinne still didn’t look at him. “I don’t want to talk out of turn.”

“It’s just us, Corinne. You and me, remember?” He slid the appetizer box closer to her. “I’ll give you the last dumpling.”

She flashed him a haughty look. “You think I can be bought?”

“They’re very good dumplings.”

Corinne stabbed the dumpling, dropped it on her plate. “All right, here’s the deal. I don’t know what the trouble is between Miyōshi Tōru and Dahle Roderich. Why there’s all this fighting between the Swan and the Serpent.” She paused, raised an eyebrow.

Yeijiro shook his head. “I wish I understood it.”

“Right. Well, whatever it is, according to mother it’s pretty much been like this since Tōru took over the Serpent. And what’s more…” Corinne paused again, pressed her lips together, then visibly made the decision to keep going. “Mother says it’s a weakness. Historically, the Swan and the Serpent have stood together, right and left hands of the Emperor. Traditionally, the Lords have been unified—at least publicly. Which not only keeps the Empire strong, but also keeps those two clans ascendant. They own the inner system. They own the Imperial court. Money, fashion, even the laws that are Empire-wide—no one has more power than those two clans together.

“Mother talks about…opportunity. With a rift between the first families, that puts the clans out of step. There could be room for someone else to catch the Emperor’s eye. For another clan to…” she spread her hands. “You see where I’m going.”

Yeijiro did, but he wasn’t sure there was an actual threat. He didn’t have the clearest memories of the night he’d interrupted the Emperor’s dinner, but he’d seen how at ease she’d been. In his audience with Alexia, she’d been all smiles for both of them. “Her Imperial Highness is close to both Lord Miyōshi and Lord Dahle. She wouldn’t—”

He stopped. Maybe Alexia wouldn’t turn her back on her friends. But someone had just tried to remove Alexia.

If he followed this thought, where did it lead? If Alexia had died, if the investiture had passed to her heir, Alexander, what then? What was his relationship with Roderich and Tōru? What was his relationship with the other clan leaderships?

How did Lady Snow fit into this? A power broker of some sort? Or merely a visible figure, running her own court, allowing other shadowy figures to operate in the hidden world she created?

Corinne sipped at her drink, watching him. “You know you’re just sitting there with your mouth hanging open?”

Yeijiro snapped it closed.

“You’re having thoughts.”

But the full picture hadn’t formed in his head, and he wasn’t ready to share half-formed conjectures. “There’s a lot to think about.”

She gave him a stern look, like she hadn’t missed his evasion. But all she said was, “Go get your tablet. Let’s make some fresh copies of all these burned bits and see if we can assemble sense out of any of it.”

With that they were back to work.