The Emperor and Empress are moving slowly but steadily through the party, exchanging brief nods and smiles with most, a few words with some. They don't act as though they have a particular destination in mind, but they're unmistakably moving in Cordelia's direction.

She dips a small curtsey as they draw within a few feet. "Happy Winterfair, Sire. Madam."

Emperor Gregor's smile is a bare indenting of the corners of his mouth, but something about it bespeaks reserve rather than displeasure. "Happy Winterfair, Lady Cordelia. And Captain Maxwell." Another nod, this one to Duo; the Emperor meets his gaze, the look brief but startlingly intense.