Hibiki

Like all the spaces in the Imperial Palace that were actually, truly, the Eternal Emperor's private chambers, his personal dining room was dark. The panelling on the walls was ancient ebony, eating light except where faint glints from the modest chandelier reflected off the varnish. The floor was black marble, sporadically veined with white. The dinner table – it might seat eight at a pinch, but today was set for only two – and chairs matched the walls, the placemats and coasters matched the floor, and only the red serviettes and gleaming silverware broke the monochromy.

The meal, now concluded, had been delicate and extremely fine. His Eternal Majesty had insisted that his personal chef serve the very best for his guest, and had done his research to ensure the portion sizes were exactly to her comfort. He had served wine, pouring himself, and only topped up his guest's glass when she, with impeccable politeness, asked.

For her part, Helia Hyperio had risen to the occasion. She had arrived in eastern traditional dress, in her family's grey-blue colours, hair carefully sculpted, makeup modest but applied with the precision of a professional. Hibiki had not asked, but he was sure she would be wearing entirely brands produced by the small but impressive stable of fashion companies she had built in the handful of years since reaching adulthood.

Over dinner they had spoken in the pleasantries of aristocracy, a long sequence of chess-like conversational manoeuvres roaming across the fortunes of the extended Hyperio families – cousins, aunts and uncles, branch families, subordinate lines whose vassalage in some cases reached back a millennium, before the Hyperios had submitted to Hibiki's imperial rule. Despite his extensive network of informants, the Eternal Emperor had been impressed by Helia's grasp of her outflung relations, and the poise with which she had outlined them, waiting for him to reach his point.

She could not have failed to notice that Hibiki had carefully avoided her immediate family. Now, finally, with the meal done and the servants having quietly cleared away the dessert plates, he took a gentle sip from his wine glass and said, "We must speak of your father."

"Milord?" Even watching with all the attentiveness and experience of his fifteen-hundred-year lifespan, Hibiki almost missed the flicker of Helia's uncertainty. She had been expecting him to pick out her sister, of course.

With as gentle a smile as he could offer, Hibiki continued, "I hope you will indulge me if I am blunt. I fear the good Duke has been allowing personal sentiment to cloud his political judgement. I would rather not see one of my great houses… disrupted by one old man's pride."

Helia waited, hands rested one atop the other on the edge of the table, her pose very still.

Hibiki nodded. "Your sister's sudden fame is not reversible. With every point she scores in the Imperial League, her renown grows, and she wins more fans. I find myself wishing I could watch more of the racing myself. In all my years I have seldom seen a rider so exciting."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

That compliment did, finally, provoke a second flicker from the young woman seated opposite the Emperor. This time, her eyebrow – the one not hidden by the fall of her bangs – lifted for a moment before she could settle it. Again, a little quieter this time, she said, "Milord?"

"You have recently visited your father's estate a number of times, but you no longer stay more than a few days." That was as clearly as the niceties of high social station allowed him to say that he had spies in her family home – not that that would come as any surprise to her. She knew that he knew what was going on. He finished, "I would appreciate your perspective on your father's current mood."

Helia Hyperio did not hesitate before speaking. "May I match your bluntness, milord?"

Hibiki smiled, genuinely pleased. He nodded.

"He's mad. Super duper mad. Mom barred me from so much as mentioning Phoebe around the house, but he brings her up anyway, all the time."

"In your view, can he be brought to reconcile with your sister?"

"If she came crawling back to the house on her literal hands and knees, begging for forgiveness and promising never to ride a dragon again, maybe. Other than that? No."

"I share your belief that Phoebe's retirement from the sport is out of the question." Hibiki took another drink. He felt as if he held a very fine thread, of some material that could be immensely strong if doubled and doubled and woven together, if only he could convince the Marquess opposite him to pass him some slack. "I would regard it as a tragedy if your family were to be formally split." Then, more sharply, "Quite apart from that, it would be a disaster for the image of the Empire. I'm sure you understand that the political circumstances of the Imperial League at the moment are delicate."

Helia nodded, her mien once again formal. "The Carthagian expansion."

"Just so." Hibiki leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, lowering his voice ever so slightly – to suggest a confidence offered, even in this most private of spaces. "My counterparts across, and indeed under, the Taranto are watching us very carefully. I must intervene, for the good of the Empire, if the Duke Hyperio threatens to cause a scene."

"Milord?" Helia took a deep breath, and this time her expression did not settle so easily back into polite calm.

"Helia, I would like to have your trust, at least insofar as people in our positions can trust one another. I want only what any emperor must want – stability. My strong preference is that Phoebe and Soot continue to compete, and to compete well, and that your father masters his hostility at least sufficiently that in future Phoebe may compete as a Hyperio. I would like nothing more than to one day see a Duchess of one of my great houses with an Imperial Champion for a sister."

Helia heard threat where Hibiki had intended reassurance. "My father-"

"Peace, Marquess." Hibiki held up a hand. Obsidian beads and black nail polish glimmered in the candlelight. "It is easy for one of my age to forget the fearfulness of youth. Let me speak a little more plainly. If your father could be persuaded to hand over some of his public duties to you, to spare him the nagging of our press that so offends him, can I count you an ally in the cause of your sister's safety?"

"I can't betray him directly." Her tone was not that of a noble negotiating with her monarch, but of a determined, frightened young woman.

Hibiki honoured her humanity with a deep, slow nod of his head. "If it comes to that we will already have failed, and I shall make no further call on your personal loyalties."