“My lord, your brother the earl has fought a third action near N’gara. He has retreated, and N’gara is abandoned to the enemy. The Lords Kerak and Flint were killed. Harmodius . . .”

At the pause, almost every breath in the room was held.

“Is still in Harndon fighting the plague . . . Tamsin and Kerak launched a successful attack on the . . . dragon. Your brother is now retreating through the western lands toward the Cohocton and believes that he will make Lissen Carak in fifteen or twenty days.”

The razor had begun to work its way to his temples.

Gabriel tried not to nod. “Ouch,” he said softly. “What bird?”

“E.21,” Kronmir said. “He’s been especially good, and fast at the long hauls.”

Gabriel smiled very slightly.

The solar door opened and Blanche, dressed in a very plain over-gown, no shift, and wet hair, came in.

“Empress,” Anne said sharply.

Gabriel heard them all bow, or curtsy. It was a distinctive rustling noise, a silence, a thump as knees went to stone.

“I don’t seem to have a clean shift,” Blanche said cheerfully.

Jock MacGilly gulped audibly. “Which . . .” he began.

Toby stepped past the big Hillman. “It’ll be ready directly, my lady,” he said.

Blanche stepped up next to the nervous boy. “Is that my shift?” she asked.

MacGilly almost expired. He turned bright red.

“Your iron isn’t hot enough,” Blanche said. “Here, look. See, Anne’s put all the irons . . . nicely done. Take a little water . . .” She flicked her damp fingers and the droplets sizzled against the mirror-bright surface of the iron. “Perfect.”

“I told him,” Anne said cuttingly.

“Ironing isn’t easy,” the empress said. “Not like fighting military campaigns or learning to joust. Laundry takes patience and concentration.” She smiled, and MacGilly became redder.

She waited.

Ser Paval came and kissed her hand. Sauce gave her a hug. Blanche rolled her eyes.

“I can do this faster myself,” she said in the voice she’d have used to a laundry maid.

Sauce laughed aloud. “Aye, welcome to command,” she said. “Just when you get good at something, you get promoted, and suddenly you have to give orders to some lout to do something ye can do better yersel.”

Blanche laughed, and then like an adder striking, her hand reached out and plucked the iron from the Hillman’s hand. “I hope you are good at fighting,” she said.

“I am that!” MacGilly said.

“Because you need a lot of help with ironing,” she said. “I may be empress, but at the moment I have two shifts, and this is one of them, and if you burn it, I’ll burn you.”

She hip-checked the big man, took his place, and deftly finished the neckline of her shift.

Cully put an assortment of fruit in a solid gold bowl on the sideboard.

“Duchess of Venike is requesting admission,” he said in a growl.