Following the light of the sun, they left her old world behind.

A storm of sorcery propelled them across the Deeplands for only a storm could catch the clouds. Aelisium had just become visible to a backdrop of an orange-fingered sky caressing the peaks of the Anarev Range, which cut straight down through the Deeplands ahead of them. Even if a pegasus could fly all day, Snowscorn would have struggled to make it across the stretch of the Deeplands without another mount to share the burden of a rider with.

“Stop fretting,” Tomas said. “We’ll arrive before nightfall.”

“What you call fretting is fascination,” Mydea said, setting down a fine farsight glass of Nysian make. “I apologize if I’m not inured to the charms of a floating city yet.”

“It’s a city. It floats,” Tomas said as if that was all there was to it. They lounged beneath a gazebo with a commanding view of the lesser island cloud’s landscape—dedicated to gardens, glasshouses, and grasslands. The last was very much to Snowscorn’s delight.

“The wonders of the world are utterly wasted on you,” Mydea said as Troia poured each of them a cup of tea from the dried sage she had packed. There were perks already to being a guest of the Empress—such as the bone porcelain tea set made available to her. The cups were decorated with beautiful blue and bronze lines that curved into intricate floral patterns, but the slight grooves she felt hinted at hidden runes within the design. Heat retention was a common choice, and she was hardly important enough for someone to poison just yet.

Still, she stirred her tea with silver, and only drank after its color remained unchanged.

The Lady of Luxuria had left them with each other’s company while she attended to business through the mirrorplane. It seemed the High Stewardess’ work was without end with all the marriage candidates assembling.

Tomas sniffed at the drink. “Is this mint?”

“Sage’s tea,” Mydea corrected after a sip, savoring the hints of mint and lavender on her tongue. She gestured with her eyes to the bottle of honey that sat between them. “For the bitterness, if you mind that.”

Tomas tried a gulp, before mixing in two big spoonfuls of honey. He had quite the sweet tooth as it turned out. “I didn’t think these would grow so far north. I recall my sister saying they’re fond of sunlight.”

“It’s from my brother’s personal glasshouse. He likes them for their color,” Mydea said.

“Their color?”

“A vivid purplish blue,” Mydea said.

Tomas frowned and looked deep into his cup. “This is meadow’s sage, not common sage then?”

Mydea spared Troia a glance, and at her nod, she replied, “Yes, I believe so.” She took another look at Aelisium in the distance. “How are you so sure of when we’ll arrive?”

“A simple calculation,” Tomas said. “We must be less than two hundred and fifty miles away if the Imperial City has just come into view from this height. A lesser cloud like this can close that gap going a full speed. To be precise, we will arrive as the Imperial City crosses the Golden Gateway.”

“That would take our path further south,” Mydea said, looking at him. “Wouldn’t it be faster to intercept the city by maintaining our current course?”

“We cannot fly over the mountains,” Tomas said. “Not reliably and safely at least. Perhaps for some of the lower peaks it would be possible, but there’s no need to chance it when we’re in no hurry.”

“Is that how we knew to follow it here then?” Mydea asked. The next closest east-west crossing through the Anarev Range was the Platinum Passing to the south, but that would have required the Imperial City to circle back.

“No doubt it was arranged beforehand. Subordinate clouds cannot stay afloat and away from Aelisium for any meaningful length of time … no more than three days at the most.”

Mydea nodded. It only made sense there were precautions to keep the subordinate clouds from becoming independent after all the coups, countercoups, and civil strife that had ultimately seen Empress Alcymede supreme. “You seem quite knowledgeable about the Imperial City’s workings.”

“It’s only natural when I’ve lived there all my life,” Tomas said.

Mydea doubted that. “Is that why you are with so little awe at its sight? Has understanding its inner workings robbed you so?”

“I have so little awe because it is an awful place,” Tomas said. “I cannot fathom why you agreed to attend court.”

“It would be so very rude to decline the Empress,” Mydea said. “Do you normally speak to guests with such … candor?”

“It is the quality Prince Jaeson appreciates the most in me,” Tomas said.

Your master, Mydea reminded herself. She ought to have known better really, for how many strawborn could speak so many tongues so fluently? How many were trained in the ways of steel and sorcery? How many would have the coin to spend on a prolonged education at the athenaeum? Any one of those things would have been rare, but to find all three in a single person could not just be coincidence. “I find that fascinating, considering your behavior towards me these past few weeks.”

“I uttered no falsehoods during our time together,” Tomas said.

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If not for his station, she might have struck him then and there. He was more than just himself now, and to show him a sword or a slap was to challenge him—and by extension, Prince Jaeson—to a duel. “It was a lie by omission.”

“Then I must beg my lady’s forgiveness, but it was necessary,” Tomas said with a polite smile. “I keep the prince’s secrets.”

“Being a valet is a secret?”

“Everything is a secret.” He could not, strictly speaking, be faulted for that. It was the mark of a most excellent servant to keep their master’s secrets.

Before she could respond, Lara found them. Mydea and Tomas stood in greeting, then the three of them sat together.

“Might I know when the Empress will be receiving my greetings?” Mydea asked.

“In a week or so, after we pick up the last of the candidates—a daughter of Twigstone, I believe,” Lara said, eyeing the grasslands more than anything else.

Judging from the name, it was probably a minor house sworn to Grandgrove and another political nobody. Perhaps, like Kolchis, they really were just here to make the true candidates look better? If nothing else, I’ll enjoy my stay in Aelisium at the Empress’ expense and make good use of the Archive, Mydea thought wryly. With some luck, she’d help progress her father’s work, maybe even help complete it. If she happened to make some useful acquaintances during her short stay while avoiding any serious enmity, all the better.

Success in either venture might earn her family the reprieve they needed from the mounting pressure. Opportunities like this didn’t come often.

Still, it left unanswered just who among the Empress’ kin was seeking a bride? The House Imperial had few formally recognized members for struggles over succession trimmed that tree. As for the Empress’ harem, they were not there to provide an army of heirs so much as to serve as mouthpieces for their houses.

So of the six branches of the House Imperial, three had heirs male and unmarried. Prince Altan was only eighteen, and still two years too young to consider marrying. Matches at such a young age had occurred in the past, but always with extenuating circumstances. It was a risk for the steelborn to marry before their twentieth year, for there was no certainty they would qualify to be sorcerers. Even prodigies could fail the athenaeum’s trials or take poorly to their family’s signature spells.

That left the Empress' nephews—Prince Jaeson or Prince Pelias, who’d come of age last month. It was impossible for her to narrow it down beyond that. There is one evil: ignorance, Mydea thought. There is one virtue: knowledge.

“I cannot recall for whom the ladies of the Empire are being gathered for?” Mydea asked.

“Ostensibly, for Prince Jaeson,” Tomas said with a roll of his eyes.

“You do not seem pleased by the thought, Tomas,” Mydea said.

“This marriage is born from political necessity,” Tomas said.

Mydea blinked. “Of course it is.” Weren’t most marriages? That was not to say that love, or at least, like had no weight in such things. After all, an alliance built on the wedding of two individuals that loathed each other wasn’t likely to last if one murdered the other.

“What I mean to say is that Prince Jaeson would much rather remain unwed,” Tomas said.

Bold, Mydea thought. There was likely some truth to it, for a valet could be privy to the inner thoughts of their masters by virtue of proximity, but few would dare give voice to those thoughts. “Whatever his feelings, it seems there are forces within the Imperial Court that have pushed this upon him,” Mydea said. “He can do naught but adapt now.”

Tomas sighed. “You speak truly.”

“I must confess,” Lara said, “that when the Empress ordered me north, I did not expect to find you here and by yourself at that, Tomas.”

Had he been sent away by the prince for voicing his thoughts? Was he now being recalled? She was certain Prince Jaeson had not secretly been living beneath her roof in disguise this whole time, for none of the faces who had passed through Aigis bore the silver eyes of Synder the Starbright. Nor, Mydea thought, did Tomas have any companions with him.

“It is most unusual to find a valet away from his master,” Mydea said.

“Nothing about the House Imperial can be said to be usual,” Tomas said. “A prince’s valet is expected to know many things, to defend him from danger if need be. A wise prince allows their valets to be instructed at the athenaeums.”

That was a small relief, and did not answer just what a prince could find so fascinating about Aigis that he would send his valet.

“I imagine you shall be glad to be reunited with your master then,” Mydea said.

“Not for a while longer,” Lara said. “Prince Jaeson is not in Aelisium yet.”

Mydea recoiled as if challenged to a duel. “But this whole ceremony is for his benefit. How can he not be in the Imperial City while it occurs?”

“Because of a technicality,” Tomas said. “So long as all the candidates have not yet arrived, the courtship ceremony has not truly begun.”

Which was ludicrous on the face of it. Everyone knew that the positioning prior to the ceremony proper was just as important as the ceremony itself. “I suppose you shall be incredibly busy then in the coming days,” Mydea said.

“I am always busy. The acquisition of the most advantageous alliance never ends in Aelisium,” Tomas said. “Nor is it unheard of for one of the House Imperial to take a liking to another’s candidates, especially after they’ve been released from the ceremonies. Prince Altan is the handsome one. Perhaps they shall flock to him instead of Prince Jaeson?”

“They would be fools to do so,” Mydea said.

“It is useful to have them weed themselves out at least,” Tomas said. “Saves me the trouble!”

Mydea smiled. “I wish you good fortune then, and hope you will not treat me as a stranger now that you are soon to be the subject of much attention.”

“Only if you promise not to bother me about the prince’s secrets. That is one thing I will not abide by,” Tomas said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mydea said, and she meant it. She was here, after all, not to wed herself to a prince, but to deflect the daggers in the dark aimed at House Kolchis. That Tomas had deceived her about who he was burned, but that did not mean she could afford to make enemies over every slight. Their time together had shown he was willing to work with her when their interests aligned, and he knew more of the Imperial Court and its secrets than she could hope to.

Tomas studied her a moment. “I shall hold you to that.”