Tōru was ushered into Alexia’s private garden, where Roderich and Alexia were already seated and waiting. Tōru wasn’t late, but Roderich loved to be first, and that was one victory Tōru was content to allow him.

Alexia loved colorful chaos. Her garden was a crowded tangle of flowers of every variety. On a still day like today, the air was overwhelmingly sweet with a cacophony of fragrance. Alexia, with her nima-honed senses, could identify each individual scent within the mess. Tōru found it distracting, but Alexia loved it here, so Tōru endured.

He bowed to Alexia, then took the remaining empty chair. Small tables had been set out with drinks and tiny sweets, but Tōru had chosen a mask today that covered his entire face, which made public eating impossible.

“We were just discussing the issue on Koschei,” Alexia said as Tōru settled. Tōru kept still through a flutter of surprise. Had Yeijiro moved so quickly to report his discovery to Roderich?

But no, it was a different issue that had the Emperor’s attention. “It’s a border skirmish, nothing more,” Roderich said. “I see no cause for concern.”

“Lord Mathisen disagrees,” Alexia countered. “She has petitioned for Imperial mediation.”

“With respect, my Emperor, I would counsel for you to deny her request.” Roderich paused, looking at Tōru, waiting for an argument Tōru had no interest in making. After a moment of silence, Roderich continued. “The territory has changed hands several times, and there are three different treaties currently in conflict with each other. There’s no clear claim. For you to take either side would be seen as undue favoritism.”

This was one of those moments where Tōru was annoyed with Roderich’s unimpeachable sense of fairness. The family in conflict with the Griffon over the land was Roderich’s own, and it would have been an easy thing—a tempting thing—for a less scrupulous person to try to sway Alexia to take their side.

Tōru hated those times when he couldn’t argue that Roderich was wrong.

Alexia was less convinced. “If I do nothing, this could escalate, and the last thing the Empire needs is another full-scale war.”

What Alexia had diplomatically not said was that every major war that had occurred in the Empire’s history had been between the Swan and the Griffon. Including both the thirty years war that had nearly destroyed the very young empire, and the more recent seven year conflict that had been started by Roderich’s own grandmother.

Alexia had previously confessed to Tōru her hope to build a lasting peace between the two querulous clans. The strong friendship that had formed between Roderich and the Lords Suri had been a hopeful step. But now the Suri’s were suffering their own problems, and had lost control of their people.

None of which detracted from Roderich’s point. “Siding either for or against the Griffon in this matter would stir more trouble,” Tōru said. “I agree with Sur Roderich.”

Alexia looked back and forth between them. “An historic occasion.”

Roderich frowned. “This is hardly a joking matter. My Emperor,” he added respectfully at Alexia’s raised eyebrow. “The Griffon…we are going to have to have a discussion about this soon.”

Alexia waved his comment away. “That’s internal clan politics. Not my concern.”

Once again, Tōru found himself in the unfortunate position of having to agree with Roderich. “Their internal politics are threatening to destabilize the Empire.”

“Being a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Tōru said nothing. Either it would sink in or it wouldn’t, but one never argued Alexia into changing her mind.

“We’ll have an entire Shadow Court to discuss this,” Roderich said. “And to observe up close the true state of their internal conflicts.”

“Perhaps my Emperor would be willing to bring this up with the Lords Suri before the courts begin,” Tōru said neutrally. “They are traveling to Terris, are they not?”

“So they are. I won’t bother asking how you know that, since this trip hasn’t been publicly announced.”

“Then perhaps I also shouldn’t mention one of the things they will be discussing with you is the removal of Prince Naveen as heir.”

Roderich frowned. Tōru hadn’t expected this to sit well with him. If the Swan held anything holier than the Emperor herself, it was the infallibility of primogeniture. “It this is an attempt to calm Lord Mathisen, it is misplaced.”

“Prince Naveen has made it very clear over the last few years he has no interest in politics,” Alexia said.

“And clearly he’s been indulged in this.” Roderich’s manners were too perfect for him to ever raise his voice at the Emperor, but an edge had crept in to his words. “But he has a duty to his clan.”

Smoothly, Tōru asked, “Is it Naveen you’re worried about, or the example he sets?” A brief pause. “How was young Lord Julian’s performance last night?”

Roderich’s face went tight. His body tensed. When he spoke, it was aimed entirely towards Alexia. “I will speak with the Lords Suri.”

Alexia shrugged. “As you like.”

Roderich stood and made a stiff bow. “If you will excuse me, my Emperor.”

Alexia watched him go, then gave a deep sigh. “Tōru, what are you doing?”

“Pardon, my Emperor?”

She raised a scolding finger. “Unfair to play when he doesn’t understand the rules.”

“He is Lord of the Swan and he moves through the same court as the rest of us.”

“I’m not sure that he does.” Alexia’s eyes flitted in the direction Roderich had retreated. “He’s honest. He’s sincere. And he genuinely believes in a world where everyone holds themselves to the same standards he does.” Her gaze, returning to Tōru, was stern. “I like that about him. I’d rather you didn’t try to ruin it.”

“Naivety is not a valuable trait in the Lord Marshal.”

“I prefer to call it faith. And I value his perspective as much as I do yours. So be nice.”

Tōru bowed his head. “I serve the will of the Emperor.”

“So I’ve heard,” Alexia said archly. “Now—tell me what’s happening in the rest of my Empire.”