“Shadow stalkers?” Ellyn laughed. “Your village was massacred by figments of your imagination?”

Moria gripped her blade, and it took everything in her not to draw it. “No, my father was killed by shadow stalkers, as Ashyn and Gavril will attest—”

“Your sister and a traitor’s son? Those are your witnesses?”

“My witnesses are the dead of Edgewood. My father and the governor and the commander—”

“This will be investigated. In the meantime, you shall not—”

“I will pass!” Moria roared, Daigo snarling beside her. “My village is gone and its children are held prisoner, and you will let me pass, old woman, or I swear by my ancestors—”

Thea drew her blade, lunging forward, still spry for her age.

Gavril stepped between them. “This is unreasonable. They ask only to see the emperor. It is their right to do so. If you will allow us to explain . . .”

“Yes, ladies,” said a voice behind the women. “Please let them explain.”

It was the young prince, Tyrus. He’d sheathed his sword and was walking toward them from the palace gardens.

He looked—as she would have expected from the emperor’s son—empire-born. Of course, they were all born in the empire, but the term was used to denote those who came from the original kingdom that had eventually conquered the surrounding lands and formed the empire. His skin was the color of golden sand, his hair straight and black, his cheekbones high, and his dark eyes slightly tilted. It was, within the empire, considered the highest standard of beauty—a standard, Moria suspected, set by those who ruled it. She was not herself given to preferring any regional “look” over another, but even she would admit the boy was very well formed from face to physique, and she allowed her gaze to linger as he approached.

“Hello, Gavril,” he said with a genuine smile. “It’s good to see you back.”

Gavril managed a stiff bow. In turn, Tyrus bowed to Ashyn and Moria.

“The Keeper and Seeker of Edgewood, I presume. I’m Tyrus Tatsu. Welcome to the imperial city.”

“This does not concern you, your highness,” Ellyn said. “It is a spiritual matter.”

“Oh?” He stopped before them. “It sounded like a martial matter from where I was standing. Do you always discuss the spirits with shouts and drawn blades?”

“Your highness—” Thea began.

“Have the young Keeper and Seeker come for guidance? Additional training?”

“No, your highness,” Ashyn said. “We bear a message for your imperial father. One that we have been instructed to deliver to his hand.”

“Oh?” He gave a feigned look of confusion for the old women. “That does not seem like a spiritual matter at all.”

“The spiritual matter is that they ought not to be in this city. Two Keepers and two Seekers ought not to occupy the same location.”