Tōru had kept his appointment for breakfast with Ambassador Tetsuo. As tempting as it was to put everything aside to focus on the Griffon matter, he knew investigations took time and patience. The Suri’s deaths didn’t change that shadow court was fast approaching, and the affairs of the clan didn’t pause for tragedy.

The once change Tōru had made was location. Instead of a private meeting in the Serpent enclave, they were in a small elevated garden near the center of the palace that offered a view of paths that led between the Imperial, Swan, and Griffon spaces. He wanted to know who was going back and forth, what messengers were being deployed. The nima swarmed around Tetsuo and him, a cloud of silence summoned by the combination of their gifts that would be impenetrable to anyone but Alexia herself. They were blurred to attention as well. People would see them, perhaps even make note of them, but their eyes and minds would slide on by without focus. Thus, they were as free to speak as any Serpent ever felt in public.

They had eaten and the table cleared. He and Tetsuo lingered in the pleasant morning air, as Tōru divided his attention three ways. His tablet was open on the table before him as he skimmed through reports; he was watching the people below; and he was listening to Tetsuo.

Conversation with Oshiro Tetsuo was much like trying to walz with a hummingbird. The ambassador flitted smoothly from topic to topic, never pausing, moving from one idea to the next with the speed and grace of a skater over ice. Fortunately, hu was more than capable of keeping up hus stream of observations, thoughts, and gossip without any help from Tōru, so Tōru could sit quietly, sipping his coffee, and picking out the relevant bits of information here and there as they occurred. He’d had years to become comfortable with this process of half-listening, dipping in and out when Tetsuo said something important.

Such as now. “Of course no one is saying so in public, but behind closed doors, Kuniko is fuming at the insult.”

The morning’s big news—that the Griffon were shutting the Imperial Marshals out of any investigation to do with the Executor—had come as no shock to Tōru. The Griffon had spent this entire interval loudly refusing help from anyone with anything, but the ripples and reactions should be revealing.

“The Swan take too much upon themselves, of course,” Tetsuo continued with barely a pause for breath. “The matter doesn’t touch on them at all, except that Lord Dahle is also Lord Marshal, but of course this is a Griffon insult and they’re always looking for that. I remember when her niece had a fling with that Kuang girl…”

Tōru let his attention slide away again as Tetsuo recounted the old grievance.

“…of course Lord Dahle remains a pinnacle of honor, but one must wonder if the marshals truly intend to sit on their hands, and oh look. Perhaps we can get word straight from the source.”

Tōru’s eyes snapped up to see none other than Yeijiro passing below.

Tōru felt it as Tetsuo opened the barrier around them. “Marshal Miyōshi!” hu called in friendly greeting, and as Yeijiro looked up, Tetsuo waved an invitation.

Yeijiro gave a slight nod, and then his gaze slid sideways to Tōru and he hesitated, freezing for just a moment. It was something Yeijiro still needed to work on—decoupling his body’s connection to his thoughts. After an interval of training, Yeijiro was getting better at controlling his face when he was prepared, but surprises still threw him off.

Tōru found it irritating, as he always did when people were slow to learn the lessons he had to teach. Especially when Yeijiro was so memorable. He was the maskless Serpent, the lone Imperial Marshal Miyōshi. He needed to be better at this.

Yeijiro did climb the stair to the elevated garden and bowed, before giving one more quick glance at Tōru—clearly seeking permission—and then taking the empty seat Tetsuo gestured him to. Tōru continued reading reports.

He listened with perhaps a slight bit more attention as Tetsuo drew Yeijiro into conversation. To his credit, Yeijiro handled the barrage of words and lighting-quick turns of subject with skill, his clever mind more than equal to Tetsuo. Tetsuo’s approach might often startle or confuse information out of others, but it would take more than that to trip up Yeijiro.

Unbidden came the memory of that night at the Black Orchid, at the very beginning of this interval. Of Yeijiro bound and trembling. Even then, his thoughts hadn’t broken. If anything, it had only seemed to clarify his genius.

A pity, truly. That Yeijiro was so young, so besotted. That he wore Roderich’s crest. Any one of those things made him poorly suited to the sort of games for which he might otherwise be perfect.

“A tragedy, this Griffon business, don’t you think?” Testsuo had finally wound around to hus real inquiry, dropping the question with casual ease over the rim of hus coffee cup.

Yeijiro’s eyes lowered briefly, sadness and concern clear in his expression before he caught himself. “A terrible tragedy. For the clan and for those who were close to the Lords Suri.”

A truth, politely spoken, that revealed nothing. Tōru’s first instinct was approval, even if he, too, was hoping Yeijiro would let information slip.

Tetsuo raised hus hand to hus heart in a seemingly reflexive gesture of sympathy. “Our hearts go out to clan and family. And even here, in our own court, so many have been touched. The Emperor was close to the Suri’s. As was the Lord Marshal.”

Yes, there it was. The edge of Yeijiro’s lips tightened. Anger on behalf of Roderich. But all Yeijiro said was a carefully neutral, “They will be missed by many.”

“Demons.” Tetsuo gave a shudder that was, to Tōru’s eye, more theatrical than necessary. “Horrible to think about. I have to wonder if anyone has asked the question yet.”

“The question?” The innocent tone in Yeijiro’s voice was too false. Yeijiro still struggled with even such mild dissembling. Fortunate for him, the clumsy attempt to draw Testsuo out would work because Tetsuo had wanted him to ask.

Indeed, Tetsuo leaned forward, hus voice just soft enough to sound conspiratorial. “Of course, the question of whether or not this was an accident.” He pulled back, lips pursed thoughtfully, visibly, as though the next thought were occurring fresh. “Surely that has occurred to the Lord Marshal. Surely there will be an investigation.”

Tōru had to check a sigh. That had been clumsily done. Tetsuo was underestimating Yeijiro, had overplayed it. In fact, Yeijiro’s eyes went to Tōru, a question clear on his face, asking whether Tetsuo could be serious.

A sudden burst of a laugh from Tetsuo drew Yeijiro’s attention back. “Oh I am sorry, Marshal Miyōshi, but that look just now. Consider me chastened. I promise to be more subtle in my attempts to pump you for information in the future. I look at the marshal crest on your shoulder and forget I am speaking to a Serpent.”

Yeijiro bowed his head. “Forgive me, Lord Ambassador. I meant no disrespect. And your assessment is a fair one, I’m afraid. I wear the marshal’s crest because I was a poor Serpent.”

“No.” Tōru spoke reflexively, nearly as startled by his own vehemence as the other two were. “Never say that. So long as you are loyal to your lord and your clan, you are an excellent Serpent.”

Tetsuo’s face was turned to Tōru so that only Tōru would see the telltale signs of an eyebrow lifting behind hus mask. Tōru chose to ignore it.

“I thank Lord Miyōshi,” Yeijiro said in a voice barely above a whisper. Stronger, he added, “And the Lord Ambassador for their time. I’m afraid I have duties to which I must attend, if my Lords will excuse me.”

Testsuo waved him away with a smile. Yeijiro waited, a barely perceptible pause, for Tōru to say anything, but Tōru was back to his reports. With a deep bow, Yeijiro left.

Tetsuo watched him go. “A pity,” he murmured, “that we lost him to the other side.”

Tōru said nothing, but he wondered. Roderich would do as he was told, leaving the Suri investigation to the Griffon. He was constitutionally incapable of acting against the letter of the law. But Yeijiro…

What orders had Roderich given him? How far would Yeijiro pull at his leash? After an interval of Tōru’s lessons, how well would Yeijiro be able to find his way around even a direct order?

Just how far would Yeijiro go?