The building that housed the Dragon parliament had been envisioned long after the original fortress was built, and the walls had been expanded to enclose it. It was off on its own, several hundred feet up the side of the mountain, so it looked down on all the rest.

Tall and austere, it hadn’t been constructed so much as crafted, and it stood as a testament to the power that the Dragon venerated above all else. A hundred akashics working together had raised the building from the mountainside, sculpting granite and obsidian like it was clay. They had added no decoration, no artistic flourishes, letting the act of creation speak for itself.

Corinne pulled at her uniform as she approached the tall, arching front gate. Some universal law had been writ that demanded all dress uniforms be as uncomfortable to wear as they were pretty to look at. The gold thread was scratchy, and the wide-flaring sleeves just got in her way, and she hated the stiffness of the polished red boots.

But this was her life. For a while, at least. Until she could find a way out of it.

The nima at the first gate recognized Corinne, so the Flame Guard on duty waved her through.

The great hall where the Dragon parliament met was another marvel. Or, as Corinne thought of it, a chance to show off. Under an arching domed ceiling that opened to the sky, the most powerful representatives of the clan gathered, spoke, and legislated. But not from the floor, oh no. That wouldn’t have evoked the proper sense of grandeur.

Chairs made of woven fire and light hung suspended, and paths of air and shadow connected them to each other and to the floor. Those paths would be invisible to anyone who wasn’t an akashic, but that was fine. To serve in parliament, the law stated one must posses the akashic gift—the full adaptation. Even a partial gift wasn’t good enough.

How must this look to diplomats and visitors from the other clans? Each clan had a gift that ran strongest within them, but the akashic gift was rarer among outsiders than any other. Magic belonged to the Dragon. This spectacle—this indulgence—so clearly meant to impress and intimidate—had it ever won the Dragon any friends?

This was the first session of parliament since Shadow Court ended, and Corinne was surprised to see half the seats in the hall were empty. After three months and a nearly disastrous attack on the fortress, she would have thought every minister would want to be here, to have their say.

The person Corinne did see—who’s presence was enough to jar Corinne’s thoughts out of their self-indulgent angry loop—was Asher Soon-mi, the Dragon ambassador to the Imperial court.

Soon-mi was impossible to miss, dressed more flamboyantly than any three ministers combined. A silk jacket of the brightest scarlet, beaded and embroidered with dragons flying through mountains made of flame. Fitted at the waist, and flared in sleeves and skirt, with a collar that arched high behind and dipped very low in front. Her arms and legs were covered in a skin-tight layer of shimmering, crystalline scales that teased transparency, but never seemed to reach it. And on her feet, a few delicate leather straps evoked the idea of thigh-high boots. The outfit looked both beautiful and entirely out of place.

Her hair, too, was neither functionally short like Corinne’s, nor one of the restrained, conservative styles all the ministers wore. Long braids were piled and coiled and woven together in a shape resembling a bird taking flight, with only a few retaining her natural black and the rest a rainbow of reds and oranges and shimmering gold.

In a conversation between her parents that Corinne probably hadn’t been meant to overhear, Corinne’s mother had accused Soon-mi of having been part of the Imperial Court for too long, of having gone native. Certainly Soon-mi seemed happy to flaunt her indulgence in fashion, in luxury, in a physicality to existence that Dragon akashics weren’t supposed to chase.

Corinne didn’t know the ambassador well. Like most of the people with any rank in the clan, Soon-mi had been a guest for dinner several times, but under the watchful eye of her mother, it wasn’t like Corinne had ever managed a conversation with her of any substance. But Soon-mi was a talented adept, had been a favored student of Corinne’s father, and was just scandalous enough to be intriguing.

Soon-mi had also been the first person from whose lips Corinne had heard the name Lady Snow.

There were two tiers of gallery for non-ministers to observe the proceedings: one on the floor, for those with no akashic gift, and one that hung halfway up the wall. Soon-mi was the sole current occupant of the second, and Corinne let the nima guide her up the air-walk to join her.

Soon-mi had something of a glazed look as she listened to one of the ministers droning on about taxes in one of the northern hemisphere protectorates, but she perked up at the sight of Corinne. Then her eyes narrowed. “Oh dear. Corinne, tell me you haven’t been roped into Jean-Luc’s position.”

The answer to that was obvious, so Corinne simply nodded a greeting. “Ambassador.”

“Oh please.” Soon-mi waved away the formality. Then gestured for Corinne to join her.

Corinne took the offered seat and looked up, her eyes almost immediately finding her mother. Sabine was watching Corinne, but as Corinne’s eyes met hers, Sabine returned her attention to the minister who was still speaking.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Corinne said, keeping her voice low enough it wouldn’t carry beyond the gallery. “I would have thought you’d return to Terris with the court.”

“Soon enough. The Emperor herself wasn’t going straight back to the palace, and I had some things to follow up on. Besides, I was curious what they would talk about today.”

Corinne could only think of one interesting thing the parliament might have to discuss. “The attack.”

“Indeed. The attack.”

Above, another minister had broken in to make some point about economic infrastructure in independent territories that Corinne couldn’t quite follow.

“Has it happened already? Did I miss it?”

Soon-mi gave a slight shake of her head.

“Well, they’ll have to talk about it at some point.”

“Do you think?”

“Of course. They can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. The Emperor was here, along with half the courtiers in the Empire.” And there was a demon, Corinne wanted to say. Except that she wasn’t supposed to.

“No question it was an embarrassment. Which is exactly why they’re not going to talk about it in public. I suspect there have been a number of locked-door conversations already, but my suspicion was that they wouldn’t want anything on the record.” She rolled her eyes up at the minister who currently had the floor. “It seemed I was right.”

There had been a demon. A demon! Corinne wanted to shout it out, to make them pay attention. Her mother had wanted Corinne here? Then she’d get Corinne.

Corinne could do it. She could make a show of it. Summon the nima, surround herself in fire, in a whirlwind of power that would make it so hers was the only voice in the room that could speak. She could demand answers—or at least attention. The parliament was supposed to be here to look after the Dragon people, and the people were in danger.

Oh, it would make a scene and, oh, her mother would be furious. It would be glorious.

It was something a woman brave enough to be Lady Snow’s Dragon might do.

But today, Corinne was only herself, the dutiful daughter of Prime Minister Sabine, who would sit quietly in her place and not risk any more of her mother’s wrath.

That threatened to drag Corinne into a black mood. But the thought of Lady Snow—the opportunity to talk to Soon-mi—Corinne had a way to distract herself. “Can I ask you something—something personal?” Which was the direct approach, but Corinne didn’t know any other.

Soon-mi tilted her head in an expression of curiosity.

Which Corinne took as an invitation to go on. “During Shadow Court, there was a party hosted by Lord Kosuri.”

“Kimie hosted a number of parties.”

“This was an early one, and all anyone wanted to talk about all night was the fact that Dahle Roderich didn’t attend, and the question of whether they were fighting.”

“Ah yes.” A bit of the bored look Soon-mi had been wearing when Corinne first arrived crept back into her face. “I remember that night.”

“There was a point—you and the Swan ambassador were talking. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but…”

“But you did.” Soon-mi gave a little smile, removing any hint of reprimand.

“But I did. The two of you were talking about—just briefly, but you mentioned—a name. Lady Snow.”

Soon-mi’s expression sharpened with interest and she leaned in towards Corinne. “And just what do you know of Lady Snow?”

“Not enough,” Corinne admitted.

“Oh Corinne.” Her soft voice was practically a purr. “How full of surprises you are.”

The room was suddenly much warmer than it had been. “I was just wondering what you knew. About her.”

“If you’re looking for an answer to the mystery, I’m afraid I don’t have one to offer.” Soon-mi had returned to a conversational tone, releasing the intensity that had been between them. “I’ve speculated, of course. Everyone has.”

Softly, Corinne asked, “Do you think she can be trusted?”

“Can anyone?” Soon-mi countered. But at Corinne’s frown, she relented. “If you’re worried someone might find out about…your association with her. Assuming there is an association to be discovered. Don’t. Whatever game it is she’s playing, I’ve never heard of her betraying the confidence of her guests.”

Which hadn’t been Corinne’s concern at all. But she couldn’t ask any more specific questions without talking about the demon. She wasn’t brave enough to talk about the demon. So she simply said, “Thank you.”

Soon-mi nodded, and, with a sweep of her long jacket, stood. “And now, I’m sorry, but I have other business I must attend. As delightful as this has been.” She winked, and Corinne felt warm again. “I’ll see you around, Corinne.”