"I need a bath," Andrion said, loosening his collar. "And a week without hearing the word imperial."
"You'll hear it again by breakfast," Milan said.
"Then I need two baths."
They had crossed the second bridge when the maid appeared.
She stepped out of the shadow of a stone pillar — young, dressed in dark blue silk with the silver crescent pin of the Second Empress's household on her collar. She bowed low, her hands folded, and when she straightened, her eyes went directly to Jolthar.
"Count Kaezhlar." Her voice was quiet, practiced, the voice of someone trained to deliver messages that never existed. "Her Grace the Second Empress requests your presence. Immediately."
Silence on the bridge.
Milan's jaw tightened. Sarojina's eyes narrowed, the skin around them creasing with sharp attention. Malyani's fingers pressed into Milan's arm.
"Now?" Andrion said, brows furrowed. "It's past midnight. Why would —"
"Andrion." Sarojina's voice was soft. Final.
Andrion closed his mouth.
