“The seal…” She trailed off, then shook her head and set the letter down. She froze and picked it up again. Her voice seemed to come from far away. “It’s got too many feathers in its crest. It’s a counterfeit.”

She drew back as though burned, her gaze darting between me and Mephi. “It’s in code. You’re a spy.” She studied my face again. “You’re working for the Shardless Few.”

All the words I couldn’t find came tumbling out. “They’re not who you think they are. They’re not bad people. They just want a better Empire.”

“So you spied for them? On me? You swore an oath.”

I closed my eyes, wishing I could come back to a few moments ago when I opened them. No such luck. Not for me. “Funny thing about oaths,” I said, my voice weak. “No way to actually enforce them.” It was the worst time for a joke.

Her fingers curled into claws. “They want me to abdicate. They want to have no Emperor at all. Do you think their proposed council would be able to coalesce in time to face the construct army? To deal with the Alanga that are arising? You lied to me. You lied, over and over. You would have kept lying – don’t deny it.”

There had to be a way to fix this, to make it right. I grasped desperately for the right words, sweat prickling at my hairline, my heart trapped in the vicinity of my stomach. “No. I stopped working for them back on Nephilanu. I would have told you the truth when the time was right,” I said. “I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t. When was the time going to be right? Never?” She snatched up the letter again. “What does it say? What were you telling them?”

No more lies. I’d fumbled this play; I’d fumbled it from the very beginning. Best to let the cards lie face-up. “I found the birth records,” I said. “There was a part of the palace you hadn’t repaired and I investigated. I knew you weren’t his daughter. I didn’t know if you knew.”

She went still. “So you would give them what they needed to unseat me.”

I lifted my hands, palms up, hoping for mercy. “I wrote it on Imperial. I haven’t sent it.”

For a moment, I thought she might relent. And then she crushed the letter in her fist. “You don’t write letters you never intend to send. You couldn’t decide, could you? I cannot believe I felt I had to justify myself to you, that I had to earn your trust and your loyalty.”