The First Minister looked the same as ever, and Farilane wondered why he kept his manufactured appearance. While he retained his unpleasant rodent-like features, Dray’s demeanor had changed. His submissive nature—so off-putting because of its obvious insincerity—had been replaced by a polite confidence. He stood straight and unflinching before the soon-to-be ruler of the world.

“I came here to protect you,” Dray countered. “That should be self-evident at this point. If it weren’t for me and my brethren, you and this empire wouldn’t exist. Besides, you can’t arrest me.”

Nyrian narrowed his eyes. “Why is that?”

“The same reason you are powerless against Mawyndulë. You lack the capacity.”

Nyrian’s face darkened as he took a threatening step toward the First Minister. “Are you saying you would defy your emperor?”

“I’m saying I won’t allow you to execute me,” Dray replied. “Your Highness, we are not your enemy. Our only goal is to protect the hard-won peace established between the Fhrey and the human realms at the end of the Great War.”

“That is not your responsibility. You are a subject within this empire. I will decide what is done and what isn’t, and you will obey. You must accept that, or I can’t allow a group with power enough to defy the empire to thrive just across the river.”

“You can’t control the sun or the rain, either, but you get along with them just fine.”

“You’re guilty of practicing magic!” Nyrian shouted. “Either the laws of the empire matter or they don’t!” He spun sharply. “What do you say, Farilane?”

The princess swallowed. There was enough tension in the garden to wither the plants. She thought a moment, then said, “It’s a crime to read and write, but have you seen my office?”

Her father’s face darkened.

“Also, not a joke,” she quickly added. “Look, I’ve been breaking the law for over a century, and the empire hasn’t collapsed. Does anyone even know why we have these laws?” She looked at the blank faces of the bureaucrats. No one said a word. “Mawyndulë is gone but not defeated. He will be back. If he visits again, and we have no means—no magical means—to fight him, what good will laws be? On the other hand, I would immediately dismiss Martasen Dray from his duties as First Minister. He has no business administering the empire.” This appeared to ease the fire behind her father’s eyes. At least for a moment. Then she opened her mouth again. “He’s too valuable for that. Dray should be charged with the creation of a guild similar to the Teshlors’. He should create an academy of wizards established to advise and protect the empire from threats such as Mawyndulë. And if anyone ever does manage to blow that horn, they’ll have to guard against the Miralyith.”