I followed everyone else’s lead, reaching out with my chopsticks to serve myself. Mustard greens drizzled with a dark, salted sauce, steamed white fish with scallions and peppercorns, fried turnip cakes with bits of dense sausage. I had to admit: Iloh had not skimped on this dinner as much as he’d skimped on everything else meant to honor me.

Iloh’s sister sat across from me, and she smiled as I set down my cup of tea. “It’s been a very long time since an Emperor has graced us with their presence,” she said. “The last time was after your father was newly married, before you were even born. We’re grateful you’re ending the Tithing Festival, but this change in regime gives me cause to ask: why do we need you?”

The corner of Iloh’s mouth quirked again and I knew he’d put her up to this. She wasn’t the governor and could speak more plainly while Iloh claimed he did not feel the same way she did. I found myself pressing a hand to the floor, my bones humming with magic. “You need me the same way you always have. The Empire must be united to stand against threats, including the Alanga. Give me your vocal support and the Empire will continue to stand.”

“What happens if we don’t?”

The table fell silent. I gritted my teeth and felt the power leak from my palm into the floor. The dishes rattled and more than one person glanced at the ground, fearing a quake. A hand touched my knee beneath the table. Jovis.

I was letting myself lose control. Before I could stop myself, I might be lifting water from teacups. I’d never forget the hateful, contemptuous look on the guard’s face when he’d spat on the assassin’s body. Alanga. I took a deep breath, lifted my hand and the dishes quieted. “We stand together or we fall to outside forces.”

“Forgive my sister,” Iloh broke in smoothly. “But you’ve begun to dismantle the constructs. You’re ending the Tithing Festival. Your army is small. If the Alanga are returning, how are we meant to fight them?”

“I will fight them,” I snapped back.

Iloh only looked amused, lifting his teacup to hide his smile. A few other people at the table stifled giggles. Here I was, a young slip of a woman, dressed in his jacket, claiming I would singlehandedly fight the Alanga. I’d come here wanting to project power and grace; instead I seemed a child throwing a tantrum, making threats I couldn’t follow through on. I was slipping in their regard, though I’d not been very high to begin with.