‘Speak.’

‘Dijkstra will accept information. Something he doesn’t know and would like to. Your Highness can repay him with information.’

‘Well done, Vattier.’

Vattier de Rideaux sighed with relief. He turned his head away and took a deep breath. For which reason he was first to notice the ladies approaching. Stella Congreve, the Countess of Liddertal, and the fair-haired girl entrusted into her care.

‘They’re coming.’ He gestured with a movement of his eyebrows. ‘Your Imperial Majesty, may I take the liberty of reminding… Reasons of state… The empire’s interests—’

‘Stop.’ Emhyr var Emreis cut him off truculently. ‘I said I’d ponder it. I’ll think the matter over and make a decision. And after taking it I’ll inform you what the decision is.’

‘Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.’

‘What else?’ The White Flame of Nilfgaard impatiently slapped a glove against the hip of a marble nereid adorning the fountain’s pedestal. ‘Why are you still here, Vattier?’

‘The matter of Stefan Skellen—’

‘I shall not show mercy. Death to the traitor. But after an honest and thorough trial.’

‘Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.’

Emhyr didn’t even glance at him as he bowed and walked away. He was looking at Stella Congreve. And the fair-haired girl.

Here comes the interest of the empire, he thought. The bogus princess, the bogus queen of Cintra. The bogus ruler of the mouth of the River Yarra, which means so much to the empire. Here she approaches, eyes lowered, terrified, in a white, silk dress and green gloves with a peridot necklace on her slight décolletage. Back then in Darn Rowan, I complimented her on that dress, praised the choice of jewellery. Stella knows my taste. But what am I to do with the young thing? Put her on a pedestal?

‘Noble ladies.’ He bowed first. In Nilfgaard–apart from in the throne room–courtly respect and courtesy regarding women even applied to the emperor.

They responded with deep curtseys and lowered heads. They were standing before a courteous emperor, but still an emperor.

Emhyr had had enough of etiquette.

‘Stay here, Stella,’ he ordered dryly. ‘And you, girl, will accompany me on a stroll. Take my arm. Head up. Enough, I’ve had enough of those curtseys. It’s just a walk.’

They walked down an avenue, amidst shrubs and hedges barely in leaf. The imperial bodyguard, soldiers from the elite Impera Brigade, the famous Salamanders, stayed on the sidelines, but always on the alert. They knew when not to disturb the emperor.

They passed a pond, empty and melancholy. The ancient carp released by Emperor Torres had died two days earlier. I’ll release a new, young, strong, beautiful specimen, thought Emhyr var Emreis, I’ll order a medal with my likeness and the date to be attached to it. Vaesse deireadh aep eigean. Something has ended, something is beginning. It’s a new era. New times. A new life. So let there be a new carp too, dammit.