A fleshy man in a yellow robe sat at a polished wood desk on the room’s far side. He sported a crop of salt-and-pepper hair slicked back with a shiny oil Anji could smell before the door had even opened. Rosemary to cover the scent of sweat. He thumbed through a few papers as the group filed in and took a sip from a silver flask before leaning back in his chair to survey them. A pair of latticed windows were opened to the city streets below, ushering in the distant sounds of a still-screaming crowd.

The Warden gestured for Kit to be deposited on the carpeted floor before the desk, and with a slight bow to the man on its other side, he and his handlers left the room.

The other Warden’s mouth bent down in a frown, his thick brow furrowed. He offered Anji a cursory glance and rose to get a closer look at Kit.

“You’re sure this is her?” he said, his nose wrinkling. He produced a gold handkerchief from his robes and pressed it against his nose. Anji felt an urge to slap him, but she remained stoic and still. He’d obviously worked with the Menagerie before.

Anji inclined her head. “Positive. She wasn’t near this close to turning when I found her. Fit the poster’s picture. Admitted to everything.” She sniffed for good measure. “Vermin was proud of what she’d done.” She finished her monologue with what she hoped was a silent exhale of steady breath. Her chest felt like it would explode with her heart thundering against her ribs.

The Warden clicked his tongue. Ambled back around the desk and sank once more into his chair, his eyes still fixed on Kit’s body.

“How did you find her?”

Anji pictured the Goat sitting opposite her, his shoulders shaking with mirth. She spared a thought for her friends, who’d met their ends by his hand.

“Two laundresses informed us of her desire to flee to Conifor should she ever escape the castle.”

The Warden leaned over his desk, then flipped open a slender silver box and fished out a thin cigar, which he lit. “Likely they helped her with the assassination,” he said, blowing out a plume of white smoke. He huffed a laugh. “Damned servants.”

“Their names were Kaia and Libby,” said Anji, clenching a fist.

If the Warden heard insubordination in Anji’s tone, he didn’t show it. He waved this last comment away like a fly pestering him and settled into his high-backed chair.

“Bounty was one million alive,” he said, sucking on the cigar. “Half for a corpse. Why did you kill her?”

Anji’s shoulders tightened. “She did it herself,” she said, gesturing at the body. “While I slept. Didn’t want to live like this, I imagine.”