“O Sippa, lady of the moon, watch over your city, for we are beset by darkness in the night and need your light to guide our footsteps. Protect us from the evils of the world until we return to the safety and comfort of your breast.”

The alabaster statue of the goddess towered over Byleth as she whispered the supplication in the inner sanctum of the Moon Temple, where only royalty and the high priestess were allowed to enter. Though not as grandiose as the Temple of Amur on the other side of the Street of Gods, this shrine was larger than most palaces. It had been the spiritual heart of the city since its founding, whatever the Sun Cult might choose to believe.

When she was a girl, she hadn't paid much attention to the priestesses or their teachings, which had seemed out of touch with the real world. Yet as she grew older, the gods seemed nearer to her every day, especially the patroness of her city.

Lady goddess, tell me what to do. What advice would you have given my father?

She had been thinking about her father more and more in recent days. After years of hating him for throwing his life away, she finally felt she had begun to understand him. The throne was not as comfortable as it appeared from afar. Almost all the noble Houses had abandoned her over the past few weeks as her wedding day approached. Oh, they replied to her overtures for assistance with polite words, but she could read the truth behind the pretty phrases. They had been seduced by the Sun Temple. She was alone except for a handful of viziers and court functionaries.

With a sigh, Byleth bowed to the goddess and turned away. Mother Iltani stood in the doorway. Her bright white robe gleamed like polished alabaster. Though her face was lined with deep wrinkles, her smile was warm and vibrant. “Someone is waiting for you, Majesty,” she said. “In the nave.”

Byleth had known the high priestess of Sippa for most of her life. “Thank you. I'm done here.”

The priestess joined her at the center of the room and took her hands. Mother Iltani's fingers were thin and bony with paper-fine skin, but their grip was still firm. She looked up, and Byleth followed her gaze through the round hole in the ceiling. The three-quarters-full moon shone down on them.

“I've been praying for you, Majesty,” Mother Iltani said. “Right here every night, a prayer to the Silver Lady to deliver you from the forces that threaten our city.”

“I appreciate that. I hope the Lady answers, and soon.”

“She will or she will not. As I told your father many times in this very chamber, it is not for us to command the gods, but to listen and bend to their wishes. That goes for kings and queens as well as for the farmers in their fields and the cooks in the kitchen.”

“And what would you have advised my father if he was in my position?”

Mother Iltani patted Byleth's hands. “That even the tallest tree must bend before the storm, or be broken by its fury.”

But I'm not fighting a storm. I'm battling schemers and plotters who want to steal my throne.

Byleth kissed the priestess's cheek and left the chamber. She found Lord Mulcibar in the temple's main chamber, standing before a marble frieze. “I didn't think I would see you again this night, my lord.”

Mulcibar bowed to her and straightened up slowly. “Forgive me for intruding on Your Majesty's devotions.”

“I was finished anyway. I'm not much for kneeling and praying, even though I could use the divine assistance. What of our new First Sword?”

“I saw him back to his rooms at the palace. He may have celebrated his good fortune a bit too much.”

Byleth caught the evasive sideward glance. “You still don't approve of his promotion.”

“It is not for me to—”

“Forget decorum, Mulcibar. Speak plainly.”

He cleared his throat. “No, I don't believe it was in the best interests.”

“Whose best interest? Horace's or my own?”

“Both. Lord Horace is very powerful, but he's not in full control of his zoana. Furthermore, he doesn't possess the knowledge or political acumen to act as a proper First Sword. Lord Hunzuu—”

“Lord Hunzuu failed to protect his queen.” She lowered her voice as it echoed through the large stone chamber. There was no one else here, but you could never be too careful. “He was given a warrior's death, which was more than he rightfully deserved after the catastrophe in the desert.”

“That much is true. Yet Lord Horace isn't prepared to handle this responsibility. He has no allies and no protection outside of Your Majesty's favor.”

“What about you? I was under the impression that you thought highly of our visitor from across the sea.”

“I do. He is intelligent, thoughtful, and not at all what I imagined a man from the West would be like. However…forgive me, Majesty, but elevating Lord Horace to the zoanii caste will not solve your impending troubles.”

She sighed and rubbed her fingers together. “Am I that obvious, my lord?”

“Only to someone who has known you since birth. Forgive my candor, but your court will never accept Lord Horace as your royal consort, much less their new king. And, if I may, it would only make your situation more untenable.” He bowed his head. “If I have spoken too freely, please accept my sincere apology. But you are my primary concern, Majesty. Your protection and the continuation of your line.”

“Yes, yes. No one is questioning your loyalty, Lord Mulcibar.” She didn't look down at his lame leg, which would have shamed his pride, but she allowed the tilt of her head to convey that she was aware of it. “You've given more than anyone has a right to ask. Have you found out anything new about the crash?”

When they had returned to the city, Byleth charged Lord Mulcibar with discovering the author of the attack. No one knew the city's politics better than her father's trusted vizier.

“Nothing of note, Majesty,” he replied. “I've placed Lord Gilgar's family and acquaintances under surveillance, including his brother. I don't expect to find anything. House Mamaunothos had nothing to gain by Your Majesty's demise and everything to lose.”

She agreed privately. When they had returned from the crash, her first action—after bathing away the stink of sweat and river mud—had been to summon Xantu and force him to submit to a thorough mind-sifting. She'd found no hint of disloyalty in him, nothing that tied him to Gilgar's treachery. In fact, when she had informed him of the events on the riverbank, he had been genuinely enraged that his twin could do such a thing. But she was no closer to understanding why Gilgar would betray her. She had known both brothers since they were children. The treachery was a bitter knife in her breast.

“What about the other nobles?” she asked.

“They are restless, Majesty.”

“A result of naming a savage as my First Sword, without a doubt.”

“Quite possible. But I would have heard if any of the city's major Houses were planning an attempt on this scale.”

She turned to face the frieze. It showed a huge, round moon hanging over the city's skyline. She assumed it was intended to be soothing, but it made her feel lonely. “Forgive me, my lord. We both know who was behind both attacks.”

“You mean the Cult of Amur.”

“Of course. Who else has the means and the audacity to strike at the crown? I'd wager that slug Rimesh was behind it.”

“That is a bold accusation. One that should not be voiced in court without some form of proof. There have already been demonstrations in the public squares, Your Majesty.”

“Riots?” she asked.

“Not as yet, but the temple soldiers do nothing to quell the civil unrest. And so it grows. If you'll heed my counsel, now is not the time for a confrontation.”

“Then what? Shall I ignore that the menarch tried to have me killed?”

“I'm only suggesting that we proceed with care. Allow me to make more inquiries, gather evidence. If the Sun Temple was behind these attacks, I'll find out.”

“Fine.” Byleth wanted to pull out her hair, but instead she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We'll do as you suggest, for now. But time is running short.”

He bowed nearly to his waist. “I will do everything in my power.”

“I know you will. Come to me the moment you learn anything.”

“Of course. And there is one other matter I wished to discuss.” He took a breath. “This is a matter I am loathe to discuss with Your Majesty, but I feel I must.”

She didn't like how this sounded, but she nodded for him to continue. “Go on, my lord.”

“It concerns Lord Astaptah, Majesty.”

Byleth lifted her right eyebrow to let him know he was treading on dangerous ground.

Mulcibar cleared his throat, which turned into a choking cough. When he recovered, he said in a reedy voice, “Majesty, I fear you might have entered into an unsafe arrangement with his lordship. Please forgive an old man, but I swore a sacred oath to your father, to watch over you and protect you in all matters. I clearly failed in regard to Lord Gilgar, but I do not wish to fail again.”

Byleth studied her oldest counselor. How much did he know? Or was this all based on suspicion? What would he do if he learned the truth about her pact with Astaptah? “I appreciate your concern, my lord, but my dealings with Lord Astaptah do not fall under your purview.”

“As you say, Majesty.”

As the old nobleman started to leave, two soldiers in royal uniform entered the temple. They knelt when they spotted her. “Majesty!” one said.

Byleth opened a pathway to her zoana as she strode toward them. Since the crash, she had lost much of her trust in her servants, seeing a potential assassin in every face. “What is it?”

“The palace,” the soldier said. He was sweating profusely. “There's been an attack.”

“On the royal residence?” Lord Mulcibar asked. Byleth noticed that the old man had nonchalantly stepped between her and the soldiers. The gesture was touching.

“No, my lord,” the soldier answered. “In the First Sword's rooms.”