Csilla greets us at the door of the elegant house in Xihuo and takes us through to a grand, open-air room overlooking the inner courtyard, with its flowering bushes and its small pond choked with water lilies. Professor Baranyi is next to a wan-looking Mrs. Och on the settee. Esme and Gregor are standing. We arranged the meeting by tree pipit, and everyone is here but Bianka and Theo—who are not to leave the house in Nanmu—and Frederick.

“Where’s Frederick?” I ask, looking around for him.

“He did not want to leave Bianka and Theo unattended,” says Professor Baranyi.

I refrain from rolling my eyes at the idea that Frederick might be any kind of protection for Bianka, and I say: “Well, we’ve got news. Good and bad.”

“Start with the bad,” says Gregor, sitting back with a glass of shijiu. “As is traditional.”

“Pia is in Tianshi,” I say. “And she knows we’re here too.”

“You saw her?” asks Mrs. Och sharply.

“Yes. She doesn’t know where we’re living, but she’s here and she’s looking for us. That’s the bad news.”

“You’re all right, though?” asks Esme. She’s looking at Wyn, his bruised, swollen face.

“That happened later,” I say. “We’re all right.”

“You’re all right,” says Wyn, but he says it good-naturedly.

“The good news?” asks the professor faintly.

“We’ve found out who that girl in the monastery is. At least, I think we have.” I pause for effect, but nobody says anything. “Well, according to my source, her name is Zara, and she’s King Zey’s niece. The rumors about a royal baby smuggled out of Frayne after the Lorian Uprising were true, seems like. She’s here, and the Fraynish government already knows about it. There’s a delegation trying to get permission to get into Shou-shu or have the princess turned out.”

A short, stunned silence, and then they are all bursting with questions. I try to explain about Count Fournier and Jun. I can feel Mrs. Och’s eyes on me, and I know she’s probably furious that I’ve been doing all this behind her back, but I don’t care. I feel quite important, bringing such monumental news. Esme and Gregor keep exchanging this wondering, peculiar look, like they’ve just remembered something about each other that’s been buried a long time.

“I’d heard rumors about the princess in Yongguo,” says Mrs. Och at last, her chilly voice breaking in and silencing the others. “I did not know for certain they were true. Certainly, a baby girl was born to Zey’s brother just before the uprising. We all knew what was coming, and I helped arrange for her to be taken out of Frayne. But I lost track of her years ago. I heard she died of a fever somewhere in Ishti more than a decade back, but then talk about her surfaced again in the Far East. If it is true, it is good news indeed.”

“And King Zey is dying,” repeats Esme. She looks at Gregor again—a helpless, resigned look this time. He is clutching the bottle of shijiu to his chest like a child clings to a favorite toy. “Who is left?” she says.

“There are many in Frayne who did not join the Lorian Uprising but who have no love of Agoston Horthy,” he says fiercely. “Even among the aristocracy, there are those who would support a viable alternative to Zey and his ilk. And Princess Zara—if it is her—has a greater claim than some far-off cousin they’ve dug up.”

“Does it really make such a difference?” asks Wyn. “This king or that queen, I mean.”

Gregor pounds the table with his fist. “She is a Lorian princess!” he cries. “First of all, she has a right to the throne. Besides that, it would mean a sea change in Frayne, the change we fought for. Freedom of religion and thought! Imagine that! A Frayne that doesn’t spend all its resources hunting down and drowning witches? That doesn’t trample over its old traditions? Somebody who would flick off that murderous dog Agoston Horthy!”

“All right, all right,” Csilla murmurs, patting his arm soothingly, but he is not soothed in the slightest.

“How can you say it makes no difference?” he cries, pointing at Wyn, who puts his hands up in mock surrender.

“This count thinks she’s in danger, though,” I break in. “He’d heard of Gustaf, by the way.”

“Everybody who knew of the uprising knew Gustaf,” says Esme calmly. She never speaks of her dead husband, or the child she lost to Scourge around the same time.

We are all quiet for a moment. Then Gregor stands up. He is flushed and trembling, but not from drink or lack of drink. There is something in his expression I don’t recognize, have never seen. Like he might weep—and not in a drunken, maudlin way, but tears of real, sober, great emotion. He goes to the edge of the veranda and pours the whole bottle of shijiu out onto the ground. Then he comes back in and fetches three more bottles from the pantry and takes them and pours them out as well. Csilla begins to cry; she goes to him, and he folds her in his arms. They stand there weeping and clinging to each other, him rocking her in his embrace.

It’s an affecting scene, I’ll say that. I look at Esme, and her expression is odd, uncertain. Gregor has given up the drink before, many times. He always means it, and he always goes back to it in a matter of days. Csilla is the only one, besides Gregor, who ever believes it will last.

“And Ko Dan?” asks Mrs. Och, ignoring the dramatic scene. “Any word?”

I shake my head.

“This count Julia found has got connections,” says Dek. He can tell I’m on dangerous ground with Mrs. Och. “I bet he’ll turn something up for us.”

She nods. “Very well. You will pursue the matter with your new friends.”

“What about the princess?” asks Esme.

Mrs. Och folds her hands in her lap. “The princess,” she repeats, and then, unexpectedly, she smiles. “Why, we will take her back to Frayne and give her the throne.”