Ah, dear Venette, meddling yet again. Assuming her unrequested opinion was welcome. He turned, letting his eyes inform her how far she had misstepped.

“No vendetta, Lady Martain? When Lord Arkley and Lady Frieden have done nothing but belittle me from the first day of my appointment? When they have snatched at any and every excuse to call for my dismissal? Are you addled, my lady? Are you—”

Varen slapped the table. “Watch your step, Morgan. You forget yourself and the respect owed your seniors.”

“Respect is earned, not owed. Lord Varen, I do not accept the decision. It is my right to—”

“To hold your tongue before you talk yourself into real strife! As head of this Council, Danfey, I command your silence!”

“For pity’s sake, Morgan,” Venette implored, taking his arm. “Don’t let our falling out goad you into folly.”

He shook himself free of her. “Lady Martain, you hold yourself too lofty.”

“Morgan, that is enough!” Breathing heavily, Varen stood. “I am gravely disappointed in you. I had high hopes when confirming your appointment, but now I am forced to wonder whether Lord Arkley and Lady Frieden weren’t right after all!”

Venette stepped forward. “Brice. Please, don’t be too harsh. Remember that Morgan is under great strain.”

“You’d have him hide behind his father’s bedpan?” Sallis snorted. “Disgraceful.”

“That was uncalled for, Lord Arkley,” Varen said. Then he sighed. “Lady Martain makes a salient point. No man can be temperate when faced with his father’s demise. Morgan, I think it best we overlook this entire unfortunate conversation. Go home, where you’re needed, and stay there until—” He hesitated. “Until matters are resolved. It is unreasonable of us to expect reason from you while you endure such trying circumstances.”

Morgan swallowed. “My lord—”

“No, Morgan. It’s done.”

He was dismissed? Sent to his room like a schoolboy in disgrace? He looked at his fellow councillors’ faces. Saw angry sympathy, naked hatred, sorrowed despair… but no hint of a reprieve. Sickened, he realised what he’d done.

I’m a fool. I’ve let Sallis Arkley manipulate me.

Any anger he felt was at himself, most of all.

“And as for your unwise prisoner,” Sallis added, freshly gloating, “I think Mage Lindin must be—”

Protected. My lord, do not test me on this.

“She goes nowhere,” he said flatly. “The girl is kept well occupied with chicken shit and dusting. In my custody she gives this Council no trouble. And as I am still a councillor, despite your best efforts, Lord Arkley? I see no reason to alter the arrangement. Unless you wish to accuse me of some malfeasance?”