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In the crowd of courtiers, Lady Ilyne of Fanost steps forward. Her voice, in contrast to Warung’s, is clear and haughty. “How dare you besmirch the name of my beloved son,” she hoots, sounding on the edge of hysteria. “He is dead. He has been commended to Zai.”

“Commended by a disgraced High Word,” Atticul says, which makes Jemel wonder who from Selim’s court is not disgraced in Atticul’s eyes?

Gelen leans forward and says to Atticul, “Perhaps Lady Ilyne would like to come to my chambers so I can ask her some questions about her son’s role in this tragic event.” He speaks in a low tone, but not so low it cannot be heard.

A statement like that would have quietened most people, but not Lady Ilyne whose cheeks are quite pink as she says, “How dare you. I am the daughter of the Duke of Fanost.”

That Duke of Fanost is long dead and no longer able to protect Ilyne if Atticul decides she played a part in Selim’s death. Until recently it was Atticul himself who held the title Duke of Fanost. Jemel wonders who will take it now? There are few who could. Atticul sorely needs some sons.

He glances at Inez for a moment, feeling guilty for even thinking such a thing when the woman who would need to bear those sons is so clearly repulsed by all that is happening.

Atticul raises his palms, as if even he is afeared of the rage of Lady Ilyne, “There is no need for that,” he says, but fixes Lady Ilyne with a tight stare to say, “Although perhaps things would be easier for you and for the Rose Court if you were in Naranda.”

The message is clear. Lady Ilyne should leave the Rose Palace if she does not wish to be accused of treachery along with Damon, Lukas, Tobi and Kerik.

Four of Prince Rafus’s bastards accused of treason, Jemel thinks to himself, wondering how Atticul would react if he knew he had a fifth bastard brother, sat upon this very dais.

“We believe that Damon Darekul and his accomplices are hiding in the Amber Forest,” Atticul continues in cool tones, “planning their next attack. No doubt an attempt to force a succession crisis that opens a path for Damon Darekul to claim the Imperial Throne. A cowards’ revolution.”

The General Paramount whose name Jemel does not know says, “They will not find sanctuary there. I have men in Fort Serus, preparing for the assault on Ismagaar, who range into that forest. I will order them to find the traitor scum and bring them to me.”

“No,” says Atticul. “I will take the entire Imperial Army to the forest. They will find no quarter. They will all be brought to Attar for execution.”

“That will not be possible,” Warung says, voice tremulous, “The rulers of Azuria were given a directive by Sarelik Darek himself not to take the Forests of Amber. He began his revolution in that forest and considered it sacred to Zai.”

“All the more reason it should be part of the empire,” Atticul says. “Sarelik is dead. I am Emperor.”

Jemel turns to Xan. “They are considering taking the Forest of Amber,” he says.

“I am sure they are,” Xan returns with a small smile on his face, as if he and Jemel share a joke.

“You are Emperor Ascendent,” says Warung, his tone becoming firmer. “Until the ascension, during the period of official mourning, it will not be possible for you to change Sarelik’s directives.”

Jemel thinks that Warung is correct in his reading of Azurian law, and it is interesting that he is not as compliant as Atticul must have wished. And now he has made this declaration in front of a hall full of courtiers it would be difficult for Atticul to dismiss it. He forgets to translate anything as he watches eagerly for what will happen next.

What happens is not what he expected at all. Atticul simply smiles, smiles quite sweetly in fact and says, “Then after my ascension, it will be.” Almost as if he expected this and it is exactly what he wanted. He looks around the room. “I will of course respect the period of mourning for my dear, devout uncle, and then I will ride north, slay my bastard brothers and crush the Ambolk. Furthermore,” he takes a small breath, “I will not only take that rich forest for the Empire, I am also about to do what no other Emperor of Azuria has done and make peace with Pluma. Right here,” Atticul points at Xan, “is an envoy from that war torn island, ready to negotiate peace.”

There is a suitable amount of impressed sounding noises from the assembled courtiers at this assertion.

Jemel says to Xan, “Atticul is telling them you are here to make peace.”

“Is he?” Xan says, sounding amused once again as he nods to the courtiers gazing at him, astounded.

But this cannot be Atticul’s doing, Jemel thinks. Selim has only been dead for a handful of days. Xan’s presence here cannot be down to him. Why is he here? What can have caused such an unprecedented event?

Quietly, although he knows no one else in the room will understand him while he speaks Plumian, “Did you come here at the invitation of Emperor Selim?”

Xan narrows his eyes at Jemel, as if he finds this an interesting question. “Yes,” he says simply. “I did not expect to find him already dead at the hands of other traitors.”

His reply is almost swallowed by Atticul, standing up and declaring, “To the Plumian truce,” he cries enthusiastically, turning to Xan he holds out his arm.

“Take his arm,” Jemel says in a low voice. “Grasp his elbow to show you come as a brother.” It takes him some time to find the word for elbow and he is not certain he has it correct, but Xan stands and grasps Atticul’s forearm in the Azurian manner.

Standing Jemel can see how tall Xan is. He towers over Atticul. He is easily as tall as Damon Darekul.

“Zai hold our hearts,” Atticul says, voice bouncy and full of glee. Xan nods.

Atticul, still beaming, releases Xan’s arm and says, “On the morrow, we will commend my uncle to Zai. Our Plumian friend will attend the ceremony as a token of future understanding. And then we will begin our negotiations to bring Pluma-Ferris fully into the embrace of the Azurian Empire.”