ONE YEAR AGO

  Ashur Moonfire strode through a portal into the heart of North Shoken. His wife, Clara, stepped out beside him, and they continued down a stone path toward the Helmspire. This tower predated the Concord by several centuries. Standing almost a mile high, it loomed over the city like a silver blade, dwarfing the tallest skyscrapers back home.

  Clara’s gaze swept over the tower, tracking its impossible height until her neck craned back. “Compensating for something, you think?” Her smile actually reached her eyes, which was always a bad sign. She’d been using those despicable creatures again, dulling her wits and curbing her ambitions.

  “I’ll do the talking once we’re inside,” Ashur told her.

  “Fine by me.” Clara adjusted her long blue shawl and brushed a strand of golden hair from her forehead. “I have business with the Shipwright.”

  All around them, clan standards billowed in the evening wind, supported by retainers on steel poles. A red and yellow serpent marked the passing of Clan Raizen. A blue wing for Clan Zell, a golden lotus for Makori, and a silver airship for Sanako.

  Most guests wore long-sleeved robes and dresses, including the lesser clans and retainers. But the Masters of the Great Clans left their arms bare to reveal the twisting patterns of their Veilcords.

  The crowd funneled beneath a massive stone archway into the spire’s main vestibule. Statues of gleaming jade loomed on either side—enemies of Clan Kazaru, frozen for eternity by their signature technique. Most were Masters or Grandmasters in various combat poses. However, three Mystics stood at the forefront. A silent threat to anyone who challenged the Concord or its Regent.

  “Charming,” Clara muttered.

  Ashur stayed quiet as they took a sharp right, away from the throne room toward a series of marble lifts powered by gravity mana. After several minutes of waiting, he and Clara boarded the left platform with several lesser clans.

  Ashur might be a Mystic, but no one knew that secret. Not even his own wife.

  The lift rose through the shaft without sound or sensation. When the doors opened again, they appeared to be standing on top of the Helmspire. But the lifts had barely climbed a hundred stories—barely half the tower’s total height. This had to be a trick of dream mana.

  Clara must have realized the same thing, because she glanced around with a curious expression. “First a garden of corpses, now a false sky? Here I thought the North Shokenese were practical.”

  “This practical.” Ashur glanced around the illusionary garden, where false wind carried real scents: wine and spiced meats from the tables, along with a faint scent of summer rain. “Anyone can come and go from an ordinary rooftop. Here, the Iron Regent controls everything.”

  A forest of red and violet trees rose from the gaps in the stone basin, their leaves shimmering like gems in the evening sun. Rivers wound between the trunks, all flowing from a massive fountain at the center. Guests wandered along the paths between tables, their voices mingling with the faint clatter of dishes and music.

  Dorashi City stretched on for miles beneath the spire, a mix of ancient pagodas and modern skyscrapers. The capital seemed to fill the entire province, from the snow-covered mountains in the west, to the sun-gilded peaks in the east.

  They followed the other guests over a curved wooden bridge toward the center of the basin, where dozens of long tables surrounded the massive fountain.

  There, at the center of it all, stood Kazaru Lano, tenth of his name, Keeper of the Concord, and Iron Regent of North Shoken. The man wore the colors of his clan, a black tunic with plates of jade armor on his chest and shoulders. The Iron Helm sat upon his head, ancient steel shaped to cover the crown and temples with two massive spikes protruding from the top.

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  Kazaru Naro, the Jade Prince, stood beside his father on the stone dais. The younger man wore his hair long and unbound, falling in black waves over his jade pauldrons.

  Naro caught Ashur’s eye over the rim of his golden goblet, then he leaned over to whisper in his father’s ear. The Iron Regent followed his son’s gaze, and Ashur felt the Mystic’s power like a physical weight on his soul.

  Ashur and Clara waited patiently for several moments, watching the other guests find their seats around the basin. Finally, the Regent and his son descended a stone staircase on one side of the dais, stepping through the crowd.

  “Here they come.” Clara turned toward Clan Sanako’s table, pausing just long enough to whisper in Ashur’s ear: “Try not to start a war.”

  Ashur found a quiet spot beneath the canopy of a red tree. A sound ward snapped into place around him, muffling the noise of the banquet. The Iron Regent and the Jade Prince joined him a minute later.

  “This is him?” Lano asked his son in a gruff voice. His beard was silver, and a web of wrinkles covered his tan face. Most Mystics opted for a youthful appearance, but not the Iron Regent. He’d ruled this land for two centuries, and he wanted the world to know it.

  “Ashur Moonfire,” Naro confirmed with a sweeping gesture. “Future Prime Minister of Espiria.”

  The Iron Regent raised his silver eyebrows, unimpressed. Then his gaze settled lower, piercing the flesh and bone of Ashur’s chest. “Is that veil meant for me?”

  Ashur hid his surprise. The Mystics back home still hadn’t deduced his true rank, but he should have known his wards wouldn’t hold up here. “It’s for my own people.”

  “Lies and deceit.” Lano snorted something like a laugh. “Is that your path to power?”

  “I call it discretion.”

  “And I prefer an honest enemy to a false friend,” Lano said.

  “That’s why I’m here.” Ashur flicked his gaze across the banquet where a cluster of other Mystics had gathered around the stone dais. The Blade Lord stood among them, along with the Shirin siblings. “Your precious Concord hangs by a thread.”

  The corner of Lano’s mouth twitched beneath his silver beard. “It may be a thread, but that thread is iron. We wouldn’t have a Concord if peace were easy.”

  Ashur took a slow step forward, lowering his voice despite the sound suppressor. “Kenzo Trengsen knows about the Archipelago. Two of his sons escaped.” He paused to let his words sink in, but the Iron Regent revealed nothing. If this were Espiria, Ashur might have probed the man’s emotions. But not here. Only a fool poked a sleeping dragon.

  “Now he courts the Ivory Fox,” Ashur continued. “What do you think will happen when those two spread the word? When the Fox brings more memories to the surface?”

  Lano narrowed his eyes at the implication. “I know what you’re doing, Moonfire.”

  “This isn’t a trick,” Ashur said. “I have ears in Trengsen’s fortress. I can show you the evidence of his rebellion.”

  “You offer this evidence freely?”

  “You’re all that stands between the Great Clans and Espiria,” Ashur said. “I’d rather not see you replaced by a wildcard like Kenzo Trengsen.”

  “I’ve seen many rebellions in my time,” Lano replied. “But the Great Concord has endured for two centuries. I won’t break it by jumping at shadows.” He inclined his head a fraction of an inch. “So keep your evidence, and enjoy the banquet.” And with that, the Iron Regent walked away without another word.

  The Jade Prince lingered behind, watching his father return to his guests. Then he smiled at Ashur. “He thinks you’re stirring the pot.”

  It was a fair assessment. Ashur’s peers had employed similar tactics over the centuries, sowing the seeds of chaos in North Shoken to keep their own land safe.

  “Why am I really here?” Ashur asked. “You must have known your father wouldn’t budge.”

  Naro brought the golden goblet to his lips. “Our master needs us to clean up this little rebellion before it starts.”

  Ashur hummed in consideration. “You don’t think your father can handle it?”

  “My father’s never been outnumbered before. And that’s exactly what will happen if the Ivory Fox goes digging up lost memories.” Naro’s gaze flickered toward the Sanako’s table. “She’ll start with the Shipwright. Then Thornfist and the Sandviper will follow him like they always do.”

  “So you want me to kill the Ivory Fox for you?” Ashur guessed. The Concord prevented the Mystics of North Shoken from fighting each other, but those rules didn’t apply to foreigners like him.

  “What if I did?” Naro swirled the wine in his golden goblet. “What if our master willed it?”

  Ashur studied the Jade Prince’s expression. This could be a test of his loyalty. Or perhaps Naro acted independently, trying to manipulate a foreign Mystic into doing his dirty work.

  “I’m his humble servant,” Ashur replied. Not a promise, just a statement of fact.

  “Good,” Naro said. “But you’re off the hook this time. Twilight will claim the Fox soon enough.”

  Ashur felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He’d never faced a Mystic from this side of the sea, and the thought of it made his chest tighten.. Besides, Naro had lured him here with the promise of peace. Assassination had its uses, but it also threatened to shatter that possibility.

  “Then why am I here?” Ashur repeated.

  “Your work is done for tonight,” Naro said. “So you can relax and enjoy the banquet. I’ll be in touch when the time comes.”

  “The time for what?”

  The Jade Prince smiled again. “I want you to kill my father.”

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