“Your blasted partner has left me little choice,” the Emperor said. “We’ll find them some baubles. The Thean newslogs are contacting me for quotes. There is a press conference directly before the treaty signing tonight. How you and Jainan conduct yourselves will be crucial for planetary opinion over the next few hours.

Jainan has family in the Thean diplomatic contingent.”

“Oh, shit, Ressid,” Kiem said, dismayed. “Sorry. ’Scuse the language. Is Jainan…?”

“He will be at the opening press conference,” the Emperor said. “So will you.” She adjusted her old-fashioned glasses, grimacing. “So, of course, will every Thean and Iskat news outlet that can possibly scramble their staff to the station. I have decided you are the most appropriate one to deliver the official apology for his previous treatment.”

“Official—apology?” Kiem said, taken aback. It must be bad. Of course Jainan deserved it, but the about-face was so fast, he might get whiplash. “Yes? I mean, I’d be happy to, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t improvise,” the Emperor said. “I will send Hren to brief you. Listen to him and to Rakal, and do not even think of going off script. You have less than an hour to prepare—the Theans are arriving by shuttle even now.” She peered closer at the screen. “And what in Heaven are you wearing? Burn it immediately. Put on something suitable.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kiem said, barely paying attention to the last part. “Can I see Jainan before the press conference? They haven’t let me see him yet. I know he’s awake.” He glanced sideways at that, including Rakal in the request. They were looking even more mortified at the talk of the official apology, though they must have known in advance.

“You will certainly talk to Jainan afterward,” the Emperor said. “That boy has gone a great deal too far. You will remind him of his duty.”

“I will?” Kiem said. “Saving Your Majesty’s presence, it sounds like he’s already said what he’s going to say. You can’t wipe it off the Consult’s pages.”

Rakal said, in a low, flat voice, “It is ongoing. He leaked a security camera video and pictures of you and him to four organizations after the initial Consult interview.”

“And how do we know, you ask?” the Emperor said. “Because the dratted man apparently requested that each of them send a copy of their article to my

Private Office—why are you wearing that particularly vacuous grin?”

Jainan did not strike out and create a random mess, like Kiem would have done. He caused deliberate, targeted mayhem. “I love him,” Kiem said. He shouldn’t say it. Jainan’s declarations had just been politics, he knew that, but Kiem was unable to stop smiling.

“Of course you do,” the Emperor said. “You have never made good choices.

Sell this, or the Empire falls.”

She cut the connection. Kiem stepped back, his mind whirling with hope and doubt, and let Rakal cut theirs.