‘Before that happens,’ said Emhyr, ‘you will be treated with the respect due to you, by me and by all of my subjects. And since the flame of war still blazes in your kingdom, as evidence of the honour, respect and friendship of Nilfgaard, I endow you with the title of Duchess of Rowan and Ymlac, lady of the castle of Darn Rowan, where you will now travel, in order to await the arrival of more peaceful, happier times.’

Stella Congreve struggled to control herself, not allowing even a trace of astonishment to appear on her face. He’s not going to keep her with him, she thought, but is sending her to Darn Rowan, to the end of the world; somewhere he never goes. He has no intention of courting this girl. He isn’t considering a quick marriage. He doesn’t even want to see her. Why, then, has he got rid of Dervla? What is this all about?

She recovered and quickly took the princess by the hand. The audience was over. The emperor didn’t look at them as they were leaving the hall. The courtiers bowed.

Once they had left Emhyr var Emreis slung a leg over the armrest of his throne.

‘Ceallach,’ he said. ‘To me.’

The seneschal stopped in front of the emperor at the distance decreed by etiquette and bowed.

‘Closer,’ said Emhyr. ‘Come closer, Ceallach. I shall speak quietly. And what I say is meant for your ears only.’

‘Your Highness.’

‘What else is planned for today?’

‘Receiving accrediting letters and granting a formal exequatur to the envoy of King Esterad of Kovir,’ recited the seneschal rapidly. ‘Appointing viceroys, prefects and palatines in the new provinces and palatinates. Ratifying the title of Count and appanage of—’

‘We shall grant the envoy his exequatur and receive him in a private audience. Postpone the other matters until tomorrow.’

‘Yes, Your Royal Highness.’

‘Inform the Viscount of Eiddon and Skellen that immediately after the audience with the ambassador they are to report to the library. In secret. You are also to be there. And bring that celebrated mage of yours, that soothsayer… What was his name?’

‘Xarthisius, Your Highness. He lives in a tower outside the city—’

‘Where he lives is of no interest to me. Send for him. He is to be brought to my apartments. Quietly, with a minimum of fuss, clandestinely.’

‘Your Highness… Is it wise, for that astrologer—’

‘That is an order, Ceallach.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Before three hours had passed, all of those summoned were present in the imperial library. The summons didn’t surprise Vattier de Rideaux, the Viscount of Eiddon. Vattier was the chief of military intelligence. Vattier was often summoned by Emhyr; they were at war, after all. Neither did the summons surprise Stefan Skellen – also known as Tawny Owl – who served the imperator as coroner and as the authority on special services and operations. Nothing ever surprised Tawny Owl.