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outright ask who had harbored the former marshal, she thought the subject of Alvar Kitsune would at least come up. Some offhand comment, allowing Emperor Tatsu to study the inebriated and unguarded reactions of his guests. When it didnot, she had to accept that Tyrus was mistaken. Love could blind one to a father’s faults, and in Tyrus’s case, filial piety was more than a duty. Sometimes one’s father truly was one of the most important people in one’s world. She knew that as well as anyone.
    Finally, the dinner came to a close, and the emperor invited his two guests to select a flower to brighten their quarters. That seemed a strange offer . . . until she realized that by “flower,” he meant “courtesan.” He chose his own companion first and left the two men still deciding. Once outside, he told his courtiers to leave him for the evening and headed to his quarters with his night’s companion.
    Moria peered along the wall, making sure the way was clear before beginning the journey to her own quarters. She made it past two buildings. Then she heard someone speaking.
    â€œI need you to go back to your quarters,” the man’s voice said, and she looked about, as if he were speaking to her, but the voice came from at least ten paces away.
    She peeked around the corner to see a broad-shouldered man in his fifth decade. Emperor Tatsu, who’d tugged the courtesan into a dark gap between buildings. He released her and pressed a box into her hand.
    â€œA gift for your trouble,” he whispered. “Go and enjoy your evening.”
    The courtesan stared at the emperor, a plaintive note in her voice as she said, “Your imperial highness. I thought . . .”
    â€œNo, child. Now go—”
    â€œHave I offended you?” she blurted, then stumbled over herself apologizing for interrupting him.
    â€œYou have not offended me,” he said. “I had no intention of taking anyone to my quarters tonight. I have business to attend to, and it was merely an excuse to end my dinner engagement. Take your gift and go. Quickly now.”
    The courtesan didn’t linger, but it was clear she would have preferred a night in his bed over any gift he might offer. Which piqued Moria’s curiosity. Clearly, given the number of women in the palace, the emperor was experienced in such matters. Was that the cause of the courtesan’s disappointment? That she’d miss out on a pleasurable evening? Or was it more a matter of position and favor—that by sharing his bed she’d gain status in the court? It was a fascinating subject, but not one she was likely to better understand anytime soon.
    The courtesan hurried off as best she could in platform sandals a hand’s-length tall. Voices drifted over from the dining house. One of the guests was leaving, having made his choice from the courtesans. Silk whispered, and Moria glanced down the gap to see the emperor poised at the corner, watching his guest.
    A moment later, the King of Etaria appeared, so tightly entwined with his courtesan that it seemed they’d begun the evening’s activities without waiting for the privacy of a bedchamber. As they staggered, giggling, past where the emperor waited in the shadows, Moria realized they weren’t so much entwined by lust as by necessity. The king was too inebriated to walk alone.
    â€œYour highness,” Emperor Tatsu said, slipping from his dark post.
    The king stumbled and the courtesan staggered under him.
    â€œAllow me,” Emperor Tatsu said, sliding his arm under the man’s shoulder.
    â€œYour imperial highness,” the king slurred. “I appreciate the assistance, but I’m sure you have some young steward better suited—”
    â€œIs that a hint that I’ve grown too old to hold your weight?” the emperor said with a laugh.
    â€œNo, of course not. I—”
    â€œIt’s true.” Emperor Tatsu gave an easy