Idealism. Lillian held down a shudder until it died. “That’s all very fine, but Frye has clearly outlined foreign policy plans. She has a stance on international trade. She has donors, too. With deep pockets.”

“I’ve got the labor unions,” said Saeger.

“Which are still in tatters. You’d be well advised to seek out some softhearted philanthropists who want a sop for their guilt.”

Saeger’s frown had been deepening as Lillian spoke. “I asked you here to help me. And this is what I get?”

Lillian had slipped, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to walk it back. “I am helping. You need to hear it from someone.”

“All right,” said Saeger, squaring her shoulders. “In my place, what would you do?”

If Lillian had brought a folder, this is when she would have opened it and spread the papers. “The wealthy despise you, and so do Tatien loyalists. Older folk are divided—some of them are nostalgic, some of them are suspicious. You’re playing on your youth; your Catwalk credentials; your ties to the unions, the workers, the poor.”

“And the Chuli,” Saeger said. “We blew those guard towers. The camps came down because of us, and we put guns in their hands.”

“The Chuli,” said Lillian, “can’t vote.”

“They’ll be able to once I’m in office; that’s a promise.”

Lillian held back a sigh of frustration. “I wouldn’t bring it up until after the inauguration.”

“That’s cheap,” said Saeger. “I’ve got integrity.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t win you an election. The appearance of integrity will do you wonders, but you’d better stay slippery until the polls close. Your numbers might be better than Frye right now, but she’s still got a solid base. Stealing some of them from beneath her will serve you well, but they won’t be swayed by voting rights for stateless nomads.”

“I don’t want to win on lies,” said Saeger. “I want to win on my convictions.”

“It would be wonderful if that was how this went,” said Lillian. “But those odds don’t invite a wager.”

Saeger shrugged, and Lillian saw a wall go up between them. “It worked for Delia, didn’t it?”

Lunch with Frye was a more dignified affair, and one she hoped would get her into less trouble. After all, it was her only option now.

Lillian presented herself at the agreed-upon time, clicking up the concrete steps of a town house on Fountain boulevard. A maid in a spotless apron led her to the parlor and brought coffee. Frye appeared shortly after the tray. Unlike Saeger, who had been ill at ease in formalwear and more comfortable in work clothes, Frye seemed equally at home in a tweed suit as she had a ballgown. The open lapels of her jacket showed a conservative collar of pearls.