Lira has come seeking far.

The age of kings and queens has passed, but China still remains. In some places, the world is still as beautiful as it once was. The winter approaches, and late fall leaves a wet slick on the ground. The capital of Hangzhou has long been sacked. It’s changed hands and been renewed again.

Lira pulls his coat up around his ears, its collar thick and sturdy enough to repel the rain, dyed in a soft, faded green the color of moss.

He is an occidental fey here in the land of emperors and gods, but Lira is proud and unafraid. He’s come to meet a woman, and so he’s found her in one of the restaurants, a place where he’s been directed in tourist-heavy Qinghefang. Even on this rainy night, pedestrians with umbrellas line the brightly lit, narrow alley boasting different attractions every few feet.

He meets her at a crowded, casual eatery where patrons sit and eat their noodles. They’re quickly seated at two stools at the crowded bar. Crimson and gold light shines down from above, filtered through paper lanterns. The rich, pungent scents of garlic and oil fill the air.

The woman in front of him, too, is a relic of the old world, though she fits into the new one almost seamlessly. She looks no older than twenty-nine. She’s dressed smartly, in modern businesswear, but there is a look of old dignity in her eyes. No one who’s lived through the centuries can fail to recognize it.

Zhang Tingting has served the Li clan for centuries. The time when she must occupy the station of a servant has long passed, but her choices are her own. She came here out of curiosity, and to represent the one whose banner has flown long.

Li Tian, the emperor of the old era, is long in the dirt. The nation has changed hands many times since then. Li Jiayi’s position has changed. She has faded from the spotlight and taken her place among the court that she herself has built.

Zhang Tingting wears a sleek black dress and blazer with her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. Her eyes are elongated, cutting an alluring line out toward her temples. They order drinks together, and Lira accepts the hot wine that is passed to him. He sips from it, letting it brace him against the cold.

He presses his drinking companion.

“Who will you throw your lot in with, in the war?”

“The phoenix court has no prejudice,” Zhang Tingting says placidly. She sips at her drink without concern. “From its inception, it has maintained ties with both of your occidental courts. Your interior squabbles are none of our concern.”

“Once, that might have been the case. But now? The witch that made peace between them is dead. The white court oversteps their bounds.”

Ah, so he’s one of them. That answers the question Zhang Tingting hadn’t bothered to ask about his allegiance. She isn’t putting on airs. She truthfully doesn’t care. The in-fighting of other nations’ yao is none of her concern.

“The last that we’ve heard, all of the major players are still alive, are they not? The prince consort who represented Vada-el is alive and well. The yaojing knight that represented the court of Domhan Mhín still serves their queen.” Zhang Tingting gives a tight-lipped smile. “Nothing has changed, as far as our administrator is concerned.”

“And when it affects her court as well?” Lira presses. “You know as well as I do that borders aren’t what they once were. The whole world has gotten permeable.”

Zhang Tingting finishes her drink and sets it down. “They are welcome to try,” she says, firm but unconcerned. “The eastern court still protects its own. Anyone foolhardy enough is welcome to test their luck against the snowfire imperial.”

Zhang Tingting collects her things and deposits a few bills on the counter to pay for her meal. She leaves without a backward glance, opening up and umbrella as soon as she exits the building and steps out into the rain.

This is very irritating to Lira, who had come here to secure aid. The phoenix court are famously elusive and entirely pompous. He sees that that much hasn’t changed.

Lira toys with the rim of his cup, running his fingers along the warm metal lip. It carries the warmth from the heated wine. There’s a small imperfection in the casting, a seam at one corner, that he snags his finger on briefly.

He huffs a sharp breath out through his nose.

His meal of garlic noodles is only halfway finished, and he leaves it, along with the rest of his drink. He didn’t expect his first attempt to be successful, but delays are unhelpful and best to be minimized insofar as it’s possible. He has other calls he can make tonight. There are other doors to knock upon, and he intends to exhaust every one.

Just then, the rain picks up. This restaurant is built out of wood in the style of old Lin’an. Instead of panes of glass, the windows open on a view to the streets and open air. Through the windows, the sound the rain comes thundering down. It’s truly ugly weather. No one but fools would go out in this.

Lira has just stood up, and he sits his ass back down on the metal stool with a heavy sigh. He raises a hand and calls out to the shop owner and orders a beer. It’s served to him in a glass. Although it was cold, it’s already starting to go warm from the instant he touches it, the glass sweating mightily in the ambient heat of the room.

With a touch of his hand, the cool, austere touch of frost creeps up the side of the glass, frosting it over in an instant. The bubbles inside the cup slow to a crawl as thin shards of ice bloom in the beer.

Lira gives up. He props his chin on a hand and hopes that the rain will let up soon.

Book Tie-In

The phoenix court of Li Jiayi first appears in The Fox and the Rose.