“Why must anyone greet her?” she said, one hand on her hip.

“Why does a king greet visiting dignitaries to his home world? Because one is the host and the other is the guest. If only the staff greet her—”

She waved a hand. “Alright.”

There was a strange look of nervousness about her, as if she hadn’t counted on this. As if, impossibly, she’d forgotten how to be the Imperial Heir. I hesitated, then reached for her and took hold of her hand.

“You are the Imperial Heir and this is your home,” I said. “She cannot take power from you if you do not let her.”

“Are you … rallying me?” she said, on the edge of laughter.

I smiled weakly. “Is it working?”

“No. But good effort.”

A passage led from the abandoned suite to a small alcove with a shielded window that overlooked the entryway. It was sequestered from everything, with a single entrance leading back to the rest of the palace. It was there I stood as the estate gates groaned open and Nadine’s entourage made their way in.

Maram and Idris stood side by side on an elevated platform, and behind them stood a row of the senior-most staff. They made a striking image. The air had turned sharper and cooler the further into the autumn months we’d gone, and they both wore heavy velvet mantles in complementary shades of teal. Maram’s skirt was shot through with white embroidery that looked from one angle like tesleet feathers and from another like the frothing waves of the ocean. She wore a modest crown, but it too bore the sigil of the tesleet in its center. I’d not expected her to take so much comfort in the imagery of her mother’s house, but it seemed to steady her as she’d dressed and listened to me summarize the reports on the court that I’d given her.

She would need to be herself today, and likely for many days, a prospect she looked on with little joy. But I did not want to find out what Nadine would think of the role I’d played in shoring up Maram’s defenses against her. I’d learned from my loss months ago, and the ease with which she’d turned Maram against me. I would not lose to her again.

Nadine emerged from a self-drawn carriage, her silver hair gleaming in the late-morning sunlight. She surveyed her surroundings. I’d paid little attention to how she was until it was too late, but now I saw. Her eyes roved over the courtyard in a way that showed she was used to being obeyed, and used to the world bending to her will. But she was not the Imperial Heir, and the power she derived from rearing Maram and controlling the palace in which she spent her time would wane.