Edith Mon entered the kitchen, halting abruptly at the sight of Amilia and the empress. She pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes, and without a word pivoted and exited the way she had come.

Amidst the sound of pounding hammers, Regent Maurice Saldur strode through the palace reception hall, where artisans were busy at work. A year ago this had been King Ethelred’s castle, the stark stone fortress of Avryn’s most powerful monarch. Since the coronation of the empress, it had become the imperial palace of the Nyphron Empire and the home of the Daughter of Maribor. Saldur had insisted on the renovations: a grand new foyer, complete with the crown seal etched in white marble on the floor; several massive chandeliers to lighten the dark interior; a wider ornate balcony from which Her Eminence could wave to her adoring people; and of course, a complete rework of the throne room.

Ethelred and the chancellor had balked at the expense. The new throne cost almost as much as a warship, but they did not understand the importance of impressions the way Saldur did. He had an illiterate, nearly comatose child for an empress, and the only thing preventing disaster was that no one knew. Saldur’s edict restricting servants from leaving the castle had been issued to contain most of the gossip. Brute-force opulence would further the misdirection.

How much silk, gold, and marble does it take to blind the world?

More than he had access to, he was certain, but he would do what he could.

These past few weeks, Saldur had felt as if he had been balancing teacups on his head while standing on a stool, strapped to the back of a runaway horse. The New Empire had manifested itself in just a matter of weeks. Centuries of planning had finally coalesced, but as with everything, there were mistakes and circumstances for which they could not possibly account.

The whole fiasco in Dahlgren had been only the start. The moment they had declared the establishment of the New Empire, Glouston had gone into open revolt. Alburn had decided to haggle over terms, and of course, there was Melengar. The humiliation was beyond words. Every other Avryn kingdom had fallen in step as planned, all except his. He had been the bishop of Melengar and close personal advisor to the king, as well as the king’s son, and yet Melengar remained independent. Saldur’s clever solution to the Dahlgren problem had kept him from fading into obscurity. He had drawn victory from ashes, and for that the Patriarch had appointed him the church’s representative, making him co-regent alongside Ethelred.