Moments after Yeijiro left, Shō slipped into the office and took the seat Yeijiro had just vacated. “It’s done, then?”

“It is.” Tōru finished clearing away the game pieces and returned the folders to the desk. “Yeijiro will bring the discrepancies to Marshal Elena’s attention.”

“My lord is certain he saw the report? That he’ll put the pieces together?”

Tōru had been certain before he’d walked in the room. Yeijiro’s curiosity was as reliable as the tides. Then Yeijiro had given himself away. “It’s done,” Tōru assured Shō.

It wouldn’t take Yeijiro long at all to find the connection. Getting the information to Elena without admitting the source, that would be a harder problem, but Yeijiro had proved himself a clever boy. Too clever, perhaps, for someone who continued to insist he belonged to Roderich.

Shō silently made a check mark on the papers in their hand. This was a silence Tōru could read. “You don’t approve of this approach.”

“Respectfully, Miyōshi-más, I worry what this will look like. That there will be those within the clan who see this act as a betrayal.”

It was a question Tōru had struggled with himself. Revealing Serpent agents to the marshals—it wasn’t an act Tōru engaged in lightly. “I twice told Nariko her agents were overstepping. This entire enterprise is motivated by profit. It endangers the clan, rather than strengthens it.”

Shō nodded along. They’d heard these arguments. “When the marshals move to make an arrest…”

“We’ll make certain no Serpent agent is personally endangered. The enterprise will be forfeit and their resources lost, but we’ll see all Oshiro involved returned to Nariko and she can find new names and places for them. Places where they can better serve.”

“Places where we can keep a close eye on them,” Shō murmured, making notes.

Tōru knew he could leave the particulars to Shō. There was no one in the clan more capable; no one he trusted more. Tōru wouldn’t be able to keep as close an eye on the clan without Shō to see to the details while Tōru concentrated on the bigger picture.

A picture, currently, that was all about Nariko, Lord Oshiro.

For a year, now, Tōru had followed leads, analyzed intelligence, done everything in his power to quietly follow the threads that had been revealed to him in the events of the last shadow court. Suspicions that had started with the attack on Alexia and had later been confirmed by Danilo—suspicions of a traitor in the clan—had been all but confirmed. Tōru had spent this interval tracing every lead, every line of information, and he was intensely displeased by what he’d found.

Duty and loyalty. Service to the clan. These were the first, most important lesson every Serpent child learned. They were at the core of everything the Serpent believed. Or should be.

“It’s so…brazen.” As they flipped through their notes, Shō’s voice was edged with disapproval. For Shō’s voice to betray anything was a sign of just how extreme this situation was. “It’s as though she wants to get caught.”

Shō was the one person with whom Tōru had shared his suspicions. “Nariko believes her great betrayal to be hidden, and has done exceptional work to cover those tracks, but her success there has made her sloppy in other areas. It’s true.”

Small, petty criminalities—like this setup on Koschei. The sort of thing that only reinforced the Serpent’s poor reputation among the other clans, among the marshals. This was the clan Tōru’s mother had allowed to flourish, and Nariko and Chiyo had ever been friends.

What Tōru lacked thus far was concrete proof of Nariko’s betrayals. He knew, because he saw the purpose behind every move she made, but if he tried to bring this before anyone—even Alexia—Nariko would have plausible deniability. She could claim mistakes, communications that went astray. At worst, she would be forced to sacrifice an underling as a scapegoat.

Tōru might be Lord of the Serpent, but as Lord Oshiro, Nariko had nearly as many resources as he, and a family whose loyalty was as much to her as to the clan. Finding a vulnerability to exploit was going to take some delicacy.

Unfortunately, the first step of that plan meant engaging in an unpleasant partnership. “What is Oshiro Hamilton’s current focus?”

Shō flipped to a different section of his folder, following smoothly with the change of subject. “Most recently, Lord Hamilton speaks of Prince Suri Devitri being sent on his proving. One of our agents is with the prince.” Shō frowned and handed the report across the desk to Tōru. “Lord Hamilton is…circumspect, even in code, but my read on this is he has concern for the prince’s safety. That the infighting among the Griffon families has become quite intense.”

From everything Tōru had seen, the Griffon were never happy unless they were fighting with someone. If not the Wolf, then the Swan. If not the Swan, then each other. But for that fighting to escalate to a point Hamilton was concerned for a member of the First Family…

On the other hand, Hamilton had a known soft spot for the Griffon First Family. This was the trouble with long-embedded agents. They lost their sense of detachment over time. Hamilton’s ability to evaluate the true threat to his friends could easily be compromised.

So many things about Hamilton could be compromised.

“What are your thoughts on Hamilton?” he asked Shō.

Who gave careful consideration to the question before answering. “I am aware of my Lord’s history with Lord Hamilton, and it certainly inclines me to think less of him on a personal level. But Lord Hamilton has proven himself clever and resourceful, a valuable asset and worthy heir to Lord Oshiro. Thus far, I have seen nothing to lead me to believe he is involved with her…extracurricular activities. Granted, the fact he is her son is reason enough to be suspicious.”

Tōru needed a better understanding of the Suri situation and he needed a better evaluation of Hamilton. “Shadow Court is only a month away”

As ever, Shō heard what he was truly saying. “You wish to see Lord Hamilton.”

“As soon as possible.”

Shō made another note. “Next on the list, I have a petition from the Kosuri to increase their territorial allotment on Tacitus.”

“Not now.” That was a matter that would be easier handled during shadow court. “What else?”

“We’re coming up on the five year review of all education curriculum.”

“Not now.”

Shō looked up, their face perfectly schooled beneath their mask, but Tōru could read the sharp eagerness in Shō’s eyes. “Marshal Min-jun.”

Min-jun was the latest in the string of Imperial Marshals assigned to the Serpent Court. Every court in the empire had marshals in residence, to assist the clan lords, to keep the Emperor’s peace. No court had a turnover rate matching Tōru’s own. “What has the good marshal done?”

Shō simply handed across another file.

Tōru settled back to read, allowing himself a smile as he worked his way down the page. In the midst of trouble, it was good to know he still got to have some fun.