The dining room is silent for a long moment, save for the scrape of the ambassador’s fork against his plate. He eats blithely, as though unaware that Astón has taken a shot at me. Rosario, on the other hand, stops eating, rests his fork beside his plate, takes a deep breath.

I make my face as bland as I can, even as I watch for any telltale movement, listen for any sound of warning. I’d love the luxury of imagining in great detail and at great length how it would feel to punch the high conde in the face. Instead, I must be fully alert to any possible danger to my prince.

Lady Jada can’t help glancing at me. Carilla’s face is made of ice and fury. Rosario is rigid in the seat before me.

But it is the ambassador who finally breaks the silence.

He dabs his lips with his napkin, sets it on the table, and says, “Knowing what I do of Joyan culture and custom, I must conclude that your words are meant to insult the empress’s most infamous Guard recruit, even though you don’t mention Red by name.”

Conde Astón appears affronted. “I was merely making a general statement about women and their—”

The ambassador laughs, and it’s so startling and delightful that I almost forget to keep my face bland.

“I don’t understand what’s so funny,” Astón says.

“You are, Your Grace,” says Ambassador Songbird. “You get away with deceptive, sideways insults because you are powerful, not because you are clever. You should spend some time in my homeland. Our council of Deciregi can teach you the art of deceiving without lying, of subterfuge with true grace.”

“So you’re saying Inviernos are deceivers?”

“Some of us are,” the ambassador says, unabashed. “Just like Joyans. We merely go about it differently.”

Conde Astón opens his mouth to protest, but Lady Carilla speaks first. “Excellency, I must admit that I find your candor refreshing.”

“If not very diplomatic,” Conde Astón says.

“Where I come from,” Songbird says, “diplomacy is about truth. Surely you can agree that only truth can lay the groundwork for trust.”

In response, Conde Astón shoves a forkful of roasted pepper into his mouth.

Rosario says, “Ambassador Songbird was handpicked for this post by Prince Storm himself, and over the years he has become a good friend to the family. My stepmother values his forthright council greatly.”

The conde swallows. Smiles. Somehow, Rosario has walked into a trap. “So the rumors are true,” Astón says. “Our foreign ambassador is acting as adviser to the empress.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Such an arrangement borders on treason,” the conde says.

Rosario sputters.

The ambassador comes to his rescue. “Your empress is well known for taking in multiple viewpoints before making major decisions,” he says. “I can assure you that my influence is minor. Besides, she only consults me on matters pertaining to Joyan-Invierno relations.”

“Yes,” Rosario says, his voiced tinged with relief. “That’s what I meant.”