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“Supposedly, he’s some kind of wunderkind. Invented a whole new set of agricultural spells. Very brainy.” The steam automaton’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “But also utterly heartless, and a coward as well. Or so it’s said.”

“What’s he doing on the balcony?”

“I have no idea. Magic? Maybe he’s protecting His Imperial Majesty from assassins.” With a final whistling toot, it turned away.

I supposed that would be an appropriate job for someone who’d attempted a bit of assassination himself. Had that been on the emperor’s orders, or was Dr. Pipt acting on his own?

The wizard gripped the balcony rail and sneered at the assembled masses in Cinnabar Square. He was the very picture of an evil vizier. People in that position have been a dependable source of villainous plans throughout recorded history—all the many Jafars and Yzmas and Wormtongues of the world. Seriously, never trust a man named Wormtongue. What advice had this vizier been giving his aging ruler lately?

Then Dr. Pipt stepped to the side, and the aging ruler himself strode out. This time, the crowd went silent and stayed silent as he surveyed them. Only the sporadic shrieks of the flying monkeys pierced the stillness.

There was no mistaking who it was; his air of command was palpable. He was on the shorter side, but powerfully muscled. A golden circlet shaped like a wreath of laurel was threaded through his thick white hair. If age had weakened him, he showed no sign of it. His ceremonial breastplate had to be astonishingly heavy. Steel plated in gold, inlaid with brilliant rubies and rare pink diamonds. He wore it as lightly as a linen shirt.

The Red Emperor. Osvald Augustus Maximus, first of his name. The Great and Powerful Os.

“My people—” he began, then immediately sneezed so loudly that the grand vizier turned in startlement.

I looked askance at Nicki, whose face was the picture of innocence.

The emperor cleared his throat and started over.

“My people. My rule over you has been long and prosperous. Under my guidance, our empire has grown and flourished, becoming a shining example to the world.” His voice rang out across the square, louder than seemed possible. Was it magically enhanced? Maybe that was what Dr. Pipt was doing. We hadn’t needed to shove our way so close after all. All those poor feet, trodden on for no reason. “We are unparalleled in art and science,” the emperor continued. “Unrivaled in wealth and prosperity. Undefeatable in military might. Envied by every other nation. All thanks to my reign.”

“Narcissistic little putz, isn’t he?” Sunbeam whispered in my ear as scattered applause sounded around us. I snorted with repressed laughter.

The emperor’s voice cut the applause short. “There has, however, been one imperfection in my otherwise flawless rulership. On one matter, and one alone, I have been remiss. So preoccupied have I been with my efforts on your behalf, so busy bringing the empire to ever greater heights, that I have never married. Never produced an heir. But this I vow to you—the empire shall not die with me!”

The applause for that announcement was tepid at best. Far less enthusiastic than I might have expected. Fully half the crowd came from nations the Red Emperor had conquered in living memory; they might have rather been hoping that the empire would collapse soon after the emperor did.

“Despite the entreaties of my counselors and the pleas of my people, I have delayed marriage again and again, always putting it off until the next season, the next year, until a time when my work had lessened. As I approach my seventieth year, I have come to realize that my work will never lessen. So I sought long and far for a bride, until I found a princess unsurpassed in every fine quality.”

Yudit frowned. “I wouldn’t want to be the blushing young newlywed who has to get pregnant by a soon-to-be septuagenarian,” she muttered.

“For who is more suited to be my wife,” the emperor said, “than the most beautiful woman in the world? I shall marry none other than Ilyana the Golden!”

I stood there stunned as the name was met with a round of thunderous cheering.

Was Ilyana destined to become empress? She hadn’t mentioned that when we spoke. But I supposed there was no reason she would have. We barely knew each other, after all.

The emperor held up a hand, and the cheers slowly died down. Very slowly. Whatever the assembled people might think of the Red Emperor himself, Ilyana was apparently rather popular.

“I wish I could say I was here to announce the date of our marriage,” he continued. “I wish that very much. But soon after Ilyana commenced her journey to the Crimson City, she vanished from the road. All signs point to her having been forcibly abducted. No word has been heard from her since.”

Angry mutters spread across the crowd. They didn’t like that. They didn’t like it at all. I didn’t, either. Why had there been no word yet? If she’d made her way to safety after I freed her, then surely an urgent message would have been sent to the emperor. It should have reached the Crimson City well before we managed to slog our way through both the swamp and the desert to get here. Was she all right? I felt a clutch of fear at the thought that something might have happened to her after we parted ways.

“The only possible conclusion,” the emperor said, “is that some enemy from outside the Red Empire hopes to prevent this union. Our foes are spiteful, and they are tireless in their plotting. No country has admitted to the deed. Until one does, we shall not rest. I have gathered the armies of the empire, and we will march into every foreign land whether they will it or not, scour every castle and prison whether they allow it or not, search every hill and dale in the wide world until Ilyana the Golden is found!”

He was answered with a deafening, full-throated roar of approval.

“I met her,” I said to Sunbeam as the ovation continued. “On the way here. She was in the genius’s dungeon.”

“What?” He’d forgotten he was pretending not to speak, and his voice was so loud that the rest of our group turned to us in surprise.

“I let her out. The news should have gotten here by now.”

“Let who out?” Lulach asked. “Illy…Illy-Anna the Golden? Was that her name?”

Yudit’s lips compressed to a thin line. “You’d think,” she said to Sunbeam, “that someone who took a risk like that would bother to mention it. Since someone else had to face the genius’s wrath the next morning, too. But that would require, you know, consideration for other people.”