I had to admit that if he was a made thing, he was well-made. Not the sort of thing I could compliment the fellow on. There was something that felt oddly rude about it.

He caught me looking and cast me a quick, rueful smile – as though he knew what I was thinking. He took the seat opposite Lin and the two guards behind him settled into place. A slight shift in his seat, the lift of an eyebrow – all this, for me?

“I know she’s not my sister,” Lin said, her voice flat. “She has no claim here.”

“My name is Leaf, Eminence,” the man said, as though Lin hadn’t said anything at all. “And I’m here to negotiate on behalf of Nisong.”

An odd choice, to name the daughter after the Emperor’s wife, and likely not her given name. Not that “Leaf” was normal either. Was I staring? Or was this how much I looked at people under normal circumstances?

“I’ve heard the stories from the north-eastern reaches,” Lin said. “If you wanted to negotiate, you wouldn’t be murdering my citizens.”

Again he continued as though he hadn’t heard her. “Abdicate in favor of your sister, and the terror stops. The people are saved.”

This wasn’t the first time Lin had been offered such a bargain. I wondered what I would do if I were in her place. Abdicate in favor of the Shardless Few, in favor of this alleged sister, or keep trying to hold a crumbling Empire together? I’d thought once that I’d have taken the first option, or the second. Now, with Mephi’s head beneath one hand and my staff in the other, I knew who I was. I would take the third path.

And so would Lin.

“That’s not a negotiation; that’s a demand.”

Leaf spread his hands as though the commands were written into his shards and his words had run out.

Servants filtered into the room, stepping quickly in and out of the silence, placing mugs in front of both Leaf and Lin, pouring boiling water, bringing plates of small grilled fish and braised vegetables. Leaf did not lift his mug or take the pair of chopsticks a servant offered upon a napkin.

I might have stared at our guest, but Lin’s gaze was sharp as needles, pinning him to his seat. “Is she like you?”

She’d spotted something I had not. He was a construct. Leaf opened his mouth as if to respond, then closed it. Took in a breath like he meant to try again, and then shook his head. I knew that look. I’d seen it on constructs I’d told stories to, lies that confused their purpose or commands. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to answer. He found a response on the third try. “She is your sister.” A non-answer.