“Let me guess, Brice,” Morgan drawled. He was clad in indigo silk, unrelieved by jewels. The colour heightened his pallor, and all the planes and edges in his face. “Maris ran to Venette, and Venette ran to you.” He laughed. “And now you’ve run to me, doubtless with a list of demands. We’ll make this quick, shall we? You cannot have her.”

Sighing, Brice clasped his hands before him. “Morgan, you—”

“Lord Danfey.”

Risking Brice’s displeasure, Venette took a step toward Greve’s reckless son. “Whether or not Maris should have involved me, Morgan, one thing is indisputable. Mage Lindin can’t remain on this estate. You must see it’s not… advisable. And quite apart from the social implications there is the brute fact that she’s a miscreant. She belongs in a cell.”

“She belongs here. You wanted her punished? She was punished. And now she is with me.”

“Which is surely some kind of punishment,” said Shari, “but not the sentence meted out by the Council.”

Morgan’s eyes were so dark they looked like polished obsidian. “The Council’s sentence was that she be bound until she saw the error of her ways. She has seen it.”

“So you say,” Brice said, with admirable restraint. “But that is not your decision.”

“Nor is it yours,” said Morgan, so haughty. “You forfeited your power over her when you chose to treat her differently for no better reason than she is unranked.”

Sallis made a spitting sound of disgust. “We’re wasting our time, Brice. Unbridled lust has overturned his judgement.”

“And unbridled arrogance long ago destroyed yours!” Morgan stared at them, his thin face twisted with contempt. “Who do you people think you are, to barge into my home demanding the life of a blameless young woman? You cannot have her. Whatever small mistake Barl Lindin made with Hahren is paid for and done. And if you think to force my hand on this, be warned. I will shout your injustice into every corner of this land. I will see you bound, I swear it, with unbreakable chains of your own making. Have you forgotten that in Dorana we have two Councils? And that the General Council is the voice of the unranked… who outnumber us?”

Shari broke the shocked silence with a disbelieving laugh. “You are threatening us? With a rabble?”

“No,” said Morgan, thinly smiling. “I merely remind you of an uncomfortable truth. But if you’re eager for a rabble, Shari, then all you need do is persecute Barl Lindin. You’ll have your rabble then. I promise.”

Another silence. Then Brice sighed. “Lord Danfey—”

Morgan folded his arms, so proud. So unapproachable. So like his dead father.

“Don’t bother, Lord Varen. You can keep your Council seat. I have no further use for it. I have no use for you.” He flicked his fingers, and behind them the foyer doors swung open. “My thanks for your condolences.”