Jullie’s on the verge of a breakdown. That was Anthea’s first thought.

Across the throne room, over the bejeweled hairstyles of the courtiers, she could see Jullie’s mouth twitching. Just a bit, but it was enough to tell her that the queen was under incredible strain.

Poor Jullie. From her earliest childhood, her great-grandfather, grandfather, and father had fought tirelessly to preserve their kingdom. Her great-grandfather had striven to hold the border against the demons’ raids, her grandfather had struggled to push them back into the Wilds, and her father had worked to drive them out of the lowlands. Now Jullie sat on the throne, and not only had South Serica failed to reclaim any of its lost lands, but she was about to lose her crown and her head along with it.

I won’t let that happen, Anthea vowed. Not again. Never again.

Back in the City of Dawn Song, she’d been too young to counter or even fully grasp Piri’s machinations. She’d watched helplessly from the sidelines as the fox demon eroded Aurelia’s authority and erased the empress’ very person. All Anthea had been able to do was provide a fluffy back for Aurelia to cry on.

But not this time.

This time, Anthea was older and wiser. Also, this time, she’d compelled Piri’s diabolical mind to work for her. No matter how much she hated to admit it, a tiny voice at the back of her head had always whispered that it was wisest to bet on Piri against any force on Earth. It had taken Heaven itself to take down the old fox, after all.

If Piri could build the Temple to the Kitchen God from scratch as a tiny mortal sparrow, then she could handle a passel of demons. No problems there.

All Anthea had to do was explain that the Temple would handle the demon army. Jullie would be grateful for the assistance, and the Earl of Yellow Flame would be grateful for volunteers for a suicide mission. No problems there either.

Yes. This was going to work. They were going to save Jullie, and South Serica too.

And then Anthea spotted the man on Jullie’s left.

“Representatives of the Temple to the Kitchen God!” bellowed the herald, banging his staff on the marble floor.

I actually recognized the man – it was the same herald who’d announced us at the banquet in Lychee Grove after I’d saved the city from the Earl of Black Crag.

Who now stood on the dais next to the queen.

Who recalled him? I hissed into Anthea’s ear as the courtiers scooted back to open a path to the dais.

“Don’t know,” she muttered back out of the corner of her mouth.

We have to get rid of him.

“Why?” Bobo’s head popped up right next to mine. “Maybe he’ll help us! He likes fighting, doesssn’t he?”

“Who is he?” whispered Lodia, going pale and shaky again.

Floridiana answered before I could. “The Earl of Black Crag.”

“The Earl of Black Crag?” Lodia’s horror mirrored mine when I’d heard that Cassius’ self-created funeral pyre had consumed my pagoda along with the rest of his palace. “I thought – I heard – he got banished…?”

As did I, I said grimly. A squabble over legitimate ownership of the Temple’s hallowed grounds was the last distraction we needed now. I directed a stern stare at Anthea. Explain this development.

“How am I supposed to explain something I just found out myself?!”

Explain why you only just found this out yourself.

“Because, as I’ve told you over and over, I don’t get involved in politics!”

From the sidelong glance Floridiana slid her way, the mage shared my opinion of that declaration. And what, may I ask, are you doing right now?

“Walking across the throne room. Obviously.”

And for what purpose?

“To lend emotional support to the Queen in a stressful moment, as I always do.”

Uh-huh…. And how about this very large, very diverse, and potentially very destructive horde of priests and worshippers from your Temple that stands at your back?

“Wait. Why is it my Temple now? Everything was your idea!”

Wow, was she really still that naïve? How had she survived all these years?

Yes, dear, you’re welcome to tell them it was all my idea – so long as you also plan to announce that the reincarnation of Serica’s greatest demon is here to save the kingdom. Because if not, I hate to break it to you, but you’re the highest-ranking South Serican in our procession. That means it’s your Temple and your horde, and right now, with them at your back, it’s your political power. Just to annoy her, I patted her on the side of the neck. Wield it well, young disciple.

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“I am not your disciple – !”

Before she could squall on, though, our advance brought us to the foot of the dais, and everyone knelt in a wave that spread from those of us at the front all the way down the column going out the double doors. The bear spirits who carried Katu’s platform lowered it gently to the floor, and Katu made as if to step off it. A quick chirp from stopped him. He knelt on the platform itself, still lower than Jullia on her throne, but a foot above the rest of us.

Recalling the queen’s petulance last time, when a mortal sparrow (with a secret identity) failed to bow to her, I bobbled my head.

Jullia’s voice was cold and formal. “Lady Anthea. For what purpose have you come to seek an audience with us?”

No permission to look up, I noted. With demon invaders sweeping across her lands and her own subjects in open revolt, the young queen felt threatened by Anthea’s perceived popularity.

Acting like a totally-normal pet bird, I hopped onto Anthea’s head and surveyed the throne room. As in Lychee Grove, there was no sign of a chimera anywhere, confirming that the Jade Emperor hadn’t endorsed Jullia’s rule. She was no true Daughter of Heaven.

The queen did, however, own a pet monkey with golden fur that one of her ladies-in-waiting was clutching. I’d expect a monkey to chitter and jump and make a general nuisance of itself, but this one was quiet and composed. Something about the way it regarded the scene with calm brown eyes reminded me of Marcius.

My amusement at picturing Cassius’ stodgy cousin as a cute pet monkey was interrupted when Anthea answered Jullia’s question. “Your Majesty, as your loyal subject, I have come to offer the assistance of the Temple to the Kitchen God.”

Before Jullia could respond, the Earl of Black Crag snorted. “Assistance to do what? Organize a mass prayer to the Kitchen God that he save us from the demons?”

His words bordered on blasphemous, and a low growl rose from a couple of the bear spirits.

Tell her yes, I whispered at Anthea.

At nearly the same time, she countered, “In chaotic times such as these, would mass prayer be such a terrible thing?”

This time it was Jullia’s cousin, the Earl of Yellow Flame, who replied. “My lady, you have applied for greater offerings to your patron god many times in the past. You have been told many times as well that we cannot afford to prioritize one god over the others, and that it would bankrupt the treasury to make offerings to all of them at the level that you desire for the one.”

The Earl of Black Crag added, “And don’t you dare walk up to the treasury and just take what you want.”

Still bitter about his mansion, was he?

Hopping down from the crown of Anthea’s head to her shoulder, I whispered into her ear, Miracle. Tell her about the miracle.

She longed to swat me off, I could tell. But she couldn’t afford to.

“Your Majesty,” she began, ignoring the two earls and addressing Jullia alone, “the Kitchen God will save us. He has already revealed his divine self to us in his Temple. These people can all bear witness to his favor.”

Jullia clearly reacted to the reminder of all the followers we’d brought into the throne room. Her eyebrows raised a hair, and she ran a cool, assessing gaze over all the kneeling worshippers. They came to rest on Katu, who had prostrated himself in quite the dramatic fashion, with his gorgeously embroidered silk robes spread out in a pool around him.

The Earl of Yellow Flame murmured something at the queen, perhaps advising her the same way I was advising Anthea.

“He appeared to all of you?” Jullia asked, sounding justifiably skeptical that a god would display so much interest in this motley bunch. “You there. The serow spirit in the front. Is what she says true?”

The serow spirit in question was, of course, Miss Caprina. Her muzzle still pressed to the floor, she replied, “Yes, Your Majesty. The Divine Intercessor appeared before his altar in a blaze of gold light.”

“Ha! A petty mage’s trick!” snorted the Earl of Black Crag.

Gratifyingly, his niece ignored him. “I see. Can anyone else confirm this? Bear spirit. The one to the left of the platform. You may speak.”

The bear spirit was the one whom Dusty had so thoroughly trounced. He, followed by every other worshipper whom the queen picked out, described the light that had shone from the main hall and blinded everyone in the Temple courtyard.

At last, Jullia leaned back in her throne, which the Earl of Yellow Flame took as a sign to babble at her. “Your Majesty, it does appear that Lady Anthea speaks truth: Her patron god did appear in the Temple before all these witnesses.”

“Nonsense! A mage – that mage – probably set up some trick beforehand.” The Earl of Black Crag stabbed a thick, stubby finger down at Floridiana. He apparently still bore a grudge against the judge in the lychee-eating contest. “It’s what she does.”

“Thanks, Piri,” Floridiana didn’t murmur – but I could tell she was thinking it.

She needn’t have worried about royal wrath landing on her head, though. Jullia’s hard, brown eyes returned to me and held mine for a moment before they swept back to scan the priests, who were getting fidgety on the hard, cold floor, and Katu, who acted as if he could hold his dramatic pose forever, and the whole ragtag column of worshippers all the way out the throne room.

“I see,” Jullia repeated one more time. “We are blessed indeed, that a god – and not just any god, but the Divine Intercessor himself – should have favored us with his sign. High Priest. You may raise your head.”

Katu’s head popped up at once, his face bright and still full of that odd, feverish fervor he’d shown since the Kitchen God (or, more likely, some star sprite in his employ, maybe even Flicker) performed a light trick.

“Tell us truly, High Priest: Does the Divine Intercessor love South Serica?”

I flew from Anthea’s shoulder to Katu’s, ready to prompt him with the correct answers, but I needn’t have worried.

“Why, of course he does, Your Majesty! The Divine Intercessor loves all of us who dwell on Earth! His divine love is the reason that he intercedes for us before the Jade Emperor every year at the New Year! His divine compassion is the reason he granted sanctuary to all who sought shelter on the holy grounds of his Temple!”

A chorus of “Yes, yes” rose from the ex-rioters who’d been bribed to stop rioting with free food.

Jullia didn’t reprimand them for speaking without permission. “High Priest, does the Divine Intercessor’s compassion extend even unto the furthest reaches of our kingdom?”

“Of course, Your Majesty! His divine compassion is infinite!” Katu replied a second before I clapped a wing to his neck to stop him.

He fell silent, confused – but it was too late. He’d fallen into Jullia’s trap.

The queen sat back, relaxing deliberately. “Then, High Priest of the Temple to the Kitchen God, we charge you with the mission of defeating the invaders and saving the Kingdom of South Serica.”