“An armoured beetle,” he said, frowning at the box. “From Trindek.”

She stared at him. No. Surely not. “Are you saying you want to transmute it?”

As self-contained as he’d ever been, Morgan folded his arms. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Morgan…” She rubbed her forehead. Perhaps lack of sleep has muddled his thinking. “Transmuting flowers is one thing. But a beetle is—”

“So close to a plant there’s no discernible difference. You’d hardly call a beetle intelligent, or aware.”

“That might well be true,” she said slowly, “but why do I suspect the Council wouldn’t see it that way?”

“Since I have no intention of asking the Council to look, your suspicions don’t matter.”

Like her, he never meant to be arrogant. Sometimes the words just came out that way. “Morgan, do you intend to transmute the beetle or don’t you?”

“Yes and no,” he said, picking up a rook’s feather and threading it through his fingers. “I want to see if we can imbue these feathers with an aspect of the beetle’s armoured carapace.”

As a rule she could follow his thinking with ease… but not this time. “Why?”

“Because Trindeki armoured beetles are unique. Their chitin has been known to turn aside a Vharne swordsman’s blade.”

She felt her temper flare. Sometimes he forgot he didn’t walk this tightrope alone. “Don’t be clever with me, Morgan.”

“Because it’s important,” he said, and let the feather drop. “To me. To Dorana.”

An answer that wasn’t an answer. “In other words, you want me to take this on faith?”

“Take me on faith. Yes.”

As he’d taken her. How unkind of him to use that weapon. “And you won’t tell me why it’s so important?”

His sharp regard softened. “Not won’t, Barl. Can’t. Not yet.”

Uneasy, she looked at the box. Listened to the scrabbling. “I know it’s just a beetle, Morgan, but still… it’s alive. In a way all those flowers we’ve changed will never be alive.”

Morgan stepped close enough to touch her. Rested his fingertips on her shoulder, briefly. “You eat meat, don’t you?”

“Yes, to live! Are you saying—Morgan, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I need you to trust me.”

No, you need me to kill that beetle. To break our most fundamental law, with only your word as surety.

“I know you think you can keep the Council from interfering, but—” She shivered. “If you can’t, if they find out what we’ve done… Morgan, they’ll not spare us.”

He smiled. “When the Council learns of it, Barl, when the time comes to tell them? Those haughty mages will fall on their knees in gratitude, and weep. Even Sallis Arkley.”

She wanted to believe him. Needed to believe him. No, she did believe him. Why would he lie?

It’s only a beetle. Hardly alive at all.