“Again,” Jainan said.

They did it a few more times, until Kiem accidentally stepped in front of Gairad as she started her spin. She tripped over his ankle, said, “Shit fuck, ” and crashed forward into the ground. Kiem tripped as well, catching himself with his hands as the impact jarred all the way up to his shoulders.

Jainan was there immediately, offering Kiem a hand up. Kiem took it and was about to make a joke before he noticed how strained Jainan’s expression was.

“I’m sorry,” Jainan said. “Are you hurt?”

“I’ve got bruises,” Gairad said. She rolled over and knocked snow off her knees. “Legendary, Prince Kiem.”

“Gairad, apologize,” Jainan said as Kiem pulled himself up.

Gairad frowned and opened her mouth, but Kiem forestalled her. “My fault,”

he said. “Totally my fault. I think I need to divert my legendary skills into something else. Maybe bull wrestling.” He picked up his dropped quarterstaff and handed it back to Jainan with a rueful grin. “I’ve got an appointment. Let’s try it again another time.”

That seemed to fractionally relax the strain on Jainan’s face. “As you like. Of course.”

Kiem left them to it. He could see them through the windows as he closed the door behind him. The lesson was obviously going a great deal more smoothly without him there. Gairad wasn’t bad, but Jainan had been training longer, and Kiem could tell every time they clashed; however much force she put into her attacks, they glanced off his defenses. Jainan’s face was intent, the same way he looked when he talked about engineering, as if there was nothing you could put in front of him that he couldn’t take apart. Kiem looked away and firmly reminded himself that he had an appointment.

The sunlight today was bright and thin. It was melting sad green patches in the snow, which would last maybe a day before a new fall covered them up.

Kiem glanced up through the glass roof of the connecting walkway as he left the Courtyard Residence. The trees were dripping slush.

He met Vaile in the Emperor’s Wing, where she looked entirely at home in her elegant receiving suite. The view from the window showed only the snowy gardens and the nicer palace buildings. She had managed to get one of the prized fourth-floor suites just below the Emperor’s own rooms; Kiem had never quite figured out how Vaile managed things like that.

“Every time I need you, you’re on Rtul,” Kiem said. He threw himself across one of Vaile’s armchairs with his legs over the arm and watched her pour two coffees from an ornate pot. The syrup she added to it smelled of flowers. She was carefully dressed as usual: today’s bracelets were set with Eisafan bluestone and matched the flint-studded gold bands that secured her braids. She might look as if she had nothing better to do than have a chat, but Kiem knew that was an illusion. Her calendar right now said Kiem and her aide had only given him ten minutes.