It was, in Alcy’s opinion, a great inconvenience that Her solar was located high up in the Starlight Tower, while Her own bedchamber was in another palace entirely. Its platinum-tinted round windows and Aelisium’s orientation did give Her a breathtaking view of the city bathed in sunset.

She settled into the armless camelback couch and its silk cushions. The servants had left a plate of plump cherries on the side table for Her.

Alcy glanced at her nephew and the fidgeting imperial painter, the only other souls in the room with Her. “Don’t sulk,” She chided. “It’s unbecoming of Our blood.” It was an altogether unflattering behavior which rarely accomplished anything.

Plus, it was just terrible for his visage. Her nephew’s scowl put poor Master Desir in a dilemma, wishing to be neither unflattering nor untrue to his likeness. As She understood it, the technique he used did not allow for much embellishment if one wanted to avoid garbled messages. Distorted communication was as much a disaster as delay, for issues of imperial import.

“How can you not care?” Jaeson asked.

“It’s just a game, isn’t it?” Alcy said.

Had losing to the Black girl stung his pride so badly? Admittedly, it’d been nearly half a decade since She could recall such a loss, and that had been to Lady Eminent Langoure herself. From the reports she’d received, Vivyan Black was hardly comparable.

She smirked. “Don’t tell me your complaints all these years of ‘not having anyone to challenge’ you was all just talk.”

He raised a brow at her. “Do you think so low of me, Aunt? It’s not Vivyan Black that troubles me.”

“Despite rumors to the contrary, I cannot read your mind,” Alcy said. I only make educated guesses, based on better information.

“I had thought that the Deeplands would put the past to rest at last in the coming days,” Jaeson said. “Pleonexia and Kolchis seemed on the verge of reconciling, and an agreement of some sort was taking form between Mydea and Prince Pythos. Then, in the span of half a day, a bridge a month in the making turned to ash! I don’t understand what happened!”

“You seem to care a great deal about the Deeplands for someone far removed from the region.”

“You seem to care not at all for someone who is titled Shield of the Syngian Peoples and the Sons of Ilyos,” Jaeson retorted.

She merely smiled at him. “It is called delegation, my dear nephew. When you become a leader of hosts, you will learn that you cannot worry about every single detail. There is no surer and swifter route to madness.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How can You be so blasé about it?”

“Practice, I suppose,” Alcy said with a shrug. “I have empowered Lord Eminent Pleonexia to act. I must therefore put some measure of trust in him. If I don’t, why have subordinates at all?”

“Are we pretending You would not take the eminent regions in hand if You could?” Jaeson said through gritted teeth. “Would our peoples’ strength be half so hollow if the Empire was not a thousand troublesome lords and ladies?”

“We must deal with the world as it is, not as we wish it to be,” Alcy said. “You of all people should understand.”

“You cannot just leave this matter to Lord Pleonexia!” Jaeson pressed. “Not when he is the source of the trouble! It is, as the hystors say, a conflict of interest. To adjudicate between the stoneborn is Your solemn duty.”

She leisurely popped a cherry into Her mouth. Sweet and succulent, as expected of Everbloom fruit. Alcy took Her time pulling the pit out before answering, “For someone so concerned about impartiality, I sense some partiality for a certain side. Or should I say, a certain woman.”

Jaeson gaped at Her. Master Desir seized the opportunity to resume painting once more. Hardly Her nephew’s best look, but better than before.

She hadn’t found out why Jaeson wouldn’t just marry this Lady of Kolchis that he had been paying so much attention to recently. To the best of Her knowledge, they’d only met some two months ago when She’d given Her nephew leave to visit the Aigean frontier under a guise.

Her hystors assured Her it wasn’t a love potion, nor any other kind of enthrallment, and it struck Her as unlikely that Jaeson would allow himself to be entrapped. And even if some leverage did exist, for which there was scant evidence of, Lady Mydea had hardly done anything to take advantage of it. If anything, she seemed quite eager to be away from Her Jaeson.

It was a puzzle She could not solve at a glance, and sadly, not one She could devote much time to in good conscience anyway. Such was the burden of the Starlight Crown.

With an idle thought, She checked that Aelisium and its bound satellites were not suddenly hurtling down onto some unsuspecting soilborn’s fields.

“She and I … there is nothing between us.” Jaeson finally composed himself after a moment’s silence.

“As you say.”

“I do say,” Jaeson insisted. “We might be considered friendly acquaintances at best.”

Alcy hummed to Herself. “I knew you when you were still a wee thing at my knee, Jaeson. You do not treat even your childhood friend, Lady Miryam, half as kindly. Nor have you ever expressed such interest in her interests.”

“Lady Miryam is born to fortunate circumstances,” Jaeson said. “Her liege and lord don’t wish to ruin her house, and in doing so, threaten the Empire’s sanctity.”

Perhaps it’s the damsel in distress that’s to his liking? Alcy wondered. Men liked to be relied on; to feel necessary. It stirred a protective instinct in them that the young could mistake for love. But how had this Mydea captured his attention where so many before her had failed? Here was Aelisium, the great hive of schemes. There was no shortage of damsels or distress.

Perhaps it was because Mydea’s distress was genuine. That it had weight. None of the ladies in years past could claim that their lives were in real danger; that only a prince could rescue them and theirs.

“Need I remind you,” Jaeson added, manipulating the winds around them into a cone of inaudibility, “that the Tuskar are raiding in greater numbers than we’ve seen in many seasons? You asked me to assess the Aigean frontier. I am giving You my assessment, Your Highness.”

“I acknowledge that the threat is real.” Alcy adopted a tone of imperial authority usually reserved for court. “Do you deem Kolchis necessary to confront it?”

“This season? Lord Pleonexia might very well be able to do without them,” Jaeson admitted. “They are recovering, yes, but far from the height of their power. Yet, it would be a grievous mistake to let them wither on the vine. Kolchis will be an asset to Lord Pleonexia and to the integrity of our borders for decades to come, if only the good Lord Eminent can set aside his grudges.”

“He has promised me that the Aigean Range shan’t be compromised,” Alcy said. “To be frank, I am content with that assurance. How he goes about it is not My concern, especially with the latest provocations of New Thrage.” Jaeson seemed none too pleased with her answer. “I agree Lord Pleonexia could be more pragmatic about the matter, but a mother must let her children act unwisely, once in a while. Consequences make for the best of teachers.”

Jaeson was silent for a long minute, before he bowed to Her. “I am ever Your servant.”

Interesting, Alcy thought. So he cared about Mydea enough to speak on her family’s behalf, but not enough to plead with Herself once She’d decided. Then again, Her nephew had never been the type to let emotion rule him. He had learned the lesson that his late parents never did. She studied the deep creases of his face for a minute.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“If you really worry for her, then you could just marry her.” Lord Eminent Pleonexia would not dare lay a finger on the consort of a prince, even one with little prospect of inheriting the Starlight Crown. The skyborn were sacrosanct.

“It’s not her I worry about, but the frontier.”

Alcy’s brow arched up elegantly.

“I cannot marry her.”

“Cannot?” She repeated. “What is this talk of cannot. You are of the House Imperial, boy. There are few things that cannot be done by us. I’ve certainly never forced a choice upon you, and I laugh at the thought that anyone would dare try without your own consent.”

“I cannot marry her,” he repeated. “It would be the ruin of the both of us.”

Alcy scoffed. She’d thought better of him than to hide behind “cannot”s after being corrected. You will not marry her, She thought. She had an inkling as to why too. Her children and nephews were calculating against each other already. She’d certainly been even younger when one of Her siblings had tried to poison Her.

There were skyborn aplenty, but only one in starlight crowned.

Alcy considered it Her greatest success the House Imperial dared not draw the knife yet. There would be no kinslaying while She lived, but that was as far as She dared go.

Jaeson was no doubt subject to some scheme, but much as She loved Her nephew, this was not a battle She could fight for him. It was not Hers to decide who would bear the weight of the Empire after Her. Even Jaeson the Conqueror’s will and wants had died with him. His subordinates spared no time carving up the Empire into their personal fiefdoms while paying lip service to his infant heir on the impoverished Isle of Aelisium.

It was hubris to think that rule over the Empire could be given, and the price of that sin was centuries steep.

“I have always strived to be fair in speech and conduct, to limit any excesses of my imperial favor.” Jaeson broke the settling silence. “Yet, you say I am partial to Mydea. Why?”

“There’s more than one side to every story, Jaeson,” Alcy pointed out. “Everything you know of this one comes from Mydea, or those close to her. You’ve never even spoken to Lord Eminent Pleonexia, yet you are so quick to castigate him and lay at his feet all blame.”

“Am I wrong?” Jaeson countered. “He sent spies into her bedroom from the moment she arrived at Aelisium. They were then ordered to damage her possessions yesterday—a maw of bookworms if I heard rightly from Lady Lara. What liege does that to their own vassals?”

Alcy laughed. “What liege doesn’t? Most of us just have the good sense not to get caught.” In any case, it could not be proven that Lord Pleonexia had ordered any such thing so long as the maids did not confess. The Lord Eminent of the Deeplands had many faults, but he at least paid his spies handsomely.

That price would be well worth whatever punishment might be inflicted. Were they Lady Mydea’s own servants, she could have put them to death on the spot, but they were loaned maidservants and so it was the Empress’ law which held sway. All that could be proven was the malicious damage of property, the punishment for which depended on the extent of the damages and the value of the property. So long as Lady Mydea refused to divulge on either, then she could not have her pound of flesh. The guilty maid—her fellow servant had given her up quickly—would suffer the thief’s lash, and be banished from the Imperial City in perpetuity. The other would be demoted and suffer a lighter whipping for failing to protect her mistress’ property.

“I shan’t ask who you are considering for marriage. I know you don’t know yet,” Alcy said. “I should hope, however, that you know who you won’t marry?” They could not keep the women as guests forever, though many likely wouldn’t object if asked to stay on longer.

“Miryam,” Jaeson said a little too quickly.

“Understandable.” He’d been friends with her since childhood, and had had more than enough time to get the measure of her. It was doubtful anything that had occurred in the last month would’ve changed things, though Miryam’s misstep with the Deeplands couldn’t have helped. She listened to him rattle off a few more names, and with each one, Her brow rose even higher. “You could have just said you didn’t wish to marry anyone from the Primemarch.”

Jaeson crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t name only women from the Primemarch.”

“Pfft. Yes, if you want to be technical, you also named the daughters of minor houses—ones you never would’ve married anyway.” Appearances had to be kept no matter what. Few skyborn had ever married into houses of low renown, and in each and every case, deep affection already existed. “Of those candidates that were serious contenders, I have only heard of Marcherwomen being discarded.”

It was not a surprise in hindsight, considering what She knew of his goals.

“A coincidence, nothing more,” Jaeson said, refusing to admit to anything to the very end.

“I won’t pry.” Alcy took mental note of the names. They could be dismissed from court easily enough. “I’m curious why Lady Mydea is not named, though you seem quite certain you won’t marry her.”

“Your Highness has already decreed that she must stay a few days more. I dare not presume my wants might trump Your words.”

She hummed, before turning to Master Desir. “Considering how uncooperative My nephew has been, you’ve made excellent progress today. What else must be done before it’s complete and functional?”

“Some finishing touches, Your Highness.” Desir kept his head bowed the entire time. “The details matter a great deal for a work of this kind.”

“Of course. We shall have to leave that for another day, however.” She pinned Jaeson with a look. “In the next session, he shall be on his best behavior, lest he find himself unable to speak.”

Jaeson and Desir bowed together. “As the Empress wills.” The painter retreated from Her solar, leaving them the room.

“I presume Your Highness did not dismiss Master Desir only to speak more of my partiality,” Jaeson said.

“Alas! Much as I’d like to, the Deeplands is only one out of eight eminent regions.” To say nothing of those lands with imperial immediacy, and the Six Schools. She clapped twice, and a quartet of stone birds were brought to life. Each took in their beak a corner of a map of the continent hanging on the far wall, and presented it to them.

“Are we to speak of New Thrage then?” Jaeson asked. At Her nod, he continued, “They’ve grown bold in these last few months, but predictable. This is not a pattern unknown to us, at least, those of us who know our histories.” He made his way over to the window, observing those who walked in the shadow of the tower. “Espionage has always been a prelude to war.”

“To what end do they send spies into Aelisium though?” Alcy questioned. “If they wished to know the measure of our strength or the lay of the land, then the Primemarch ought to have been their focus. Yet, I’ve heard nothing from your uncle about this.” While New Thrage had a competent navy, it was not enough to overcome the fleets She could call upon on the Sundered Sea.

Jaeson considered for a moment. “I doubt it is any disloyalty from my uncle. New Thrage simply might not care to send more spies there. They trade frequently enough with my fellow Marcherkin, and not even the latest unrest put a dent in that. Neither the land, nor the people are foreign to them by now.”

“I did not think they would be so eager to jump into a new conflict so soon after the end of their civil war.”

Jaeson shrugged. “I liken the armies of New Thrage to sharks. If they stay in place, they will starve.”

“If it is not information they seek, then there is only one possible motive left,” Alcy concluded, shifting to the Old Tongue that was most familiar to her as a native Nysian. “They seek proschema.” A stated reason for war, which was not always the same as prophasis, the true reason. “How long do you reckon we have?”

“A few months, maybe.” He turned to face Her. “If they are set on this course, then all they need is a reason and it is not so difficult to find one. The enmity between our empires is centuries deep.”

“You’d best hurry selecting your bride then.” Alcy smirked. “I will not permit you to leave unpromised, even for a war.”

Jaeson scowled and She in her great magnanimity forgave the impudence. “It does not strike You as cruel to promise me to some girl, only to let me march off to war?”

“You’re right, it is cruel. I should forbid you from going altogether. It’d be a shame to make a widow of a woman before she’s even wed.” She’d be lying if She said She didn’t enjoy the panic that flashed across Her nephew’s face.

“Have You no faith in me, my Imperial Aunt? I have not died yet, and Aelisium is hardly any safer than the battlefield. At least there, I can see the blade coming for my neck.”

“I jest. Your uncle might never forgive Me if I kept you from this war without cause. ‘Essential’, he calls it.” Among the Marcherkin, it was said that one was not blooded ‘til they’d lived through a Thragian siege. She would never understand a people who could turn the desolation of their homes into a rite of passage.

Jaeson picked up a goblet filled with his favorite vintage of mango wine, chilled to lift the delicate aromas and acidity, but not so cold that it muted its flavors. “The benefits of being needed.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” She chided without any bite. “I need your uncle. You just happen to be his price.”

“My uncle will take what he can get,” Jaeson said after a sip. “The scales so rarely favor our eminent region.” He made a face. “I take it You bargained me away for that election You’ve been planning?”

“What else could I need from the Lord of Kingsgrave?” Jaeson did not say anything to that, but his look turned sullen. “You do not approve?”

“Your Highness does not require my approval, but You could have asked for anything else,” Jaeson said. “This is a waste of leverage.”

“Oh?” She leaned into her silken cushions. “Is there a more pressing matter for the Empire than its succession?”

“There is none, but this is not the answer.” He downed his cup and set it down. “Have we forgotten their lessons?” He gestured to the stillform paintings of Symon the Shieldbreaker and his sister, Syla Stormsong. “It was an assembly of electors that killed him and forced her to enact purges. Forgive me if I lack faith.”

Alcy closed her eyes and sighed. “You put too much stock in your histories.”

“I do not see the need to relearn the lessons my ancestors have paid for in full.”

“You do not think we can do better than them.”

“Can we?” Jaeson asked scathingly.

“We are doomed if we cannot. The iron wheel of time will continue to turn. Shall I let another succession crush my children, like it crushed my uncles and aunts, my brothers and sisters? I must try, Jaeson.”

I have done evil to don this crown. I have sinned to become starborn, She thought.

There must be penance.