Mandaqini turned to her Sun Guard.
"Captain Borath."
A man with a face like hammered bronze stepped forward. His hand closed around his sword hilt.
"Clear the aisle."
A murmur tore through the hall — shock, disbelief, and the frantic whispered calculus of six hundred people trying to determine whether this was a display or a disaster.
Captain Borath moved forward. Two knights flanked him. Their boots rang on the jade tile.
Dayamati did not flinch.
"Rysanne."
Her voice was steady as stone.
From behind her, the Moonveil Guard shifted. A woman with close-cropped silver hair and a scar that ran from her temple to her jaw stepped to the front.
Commander Rysanne.
She drew her sword — slowly, deliberately, the steel singing against the scabbard — and held it at her side.
Two more Moonveil knights drew. Then three more.
The Sun Guard drew in response.
Steel in the Jade Palace. Blades at the Emperor's marriage feast.
