Monza strained, every muscle trembling, but she was held helpless as a fly in honey. She heard Gobba grunting with effort in her ear, his stubbly face rubbing against her cheek, his great body warm against her back. She felt the wire cut slowly into the sides of her neck, deep into the side of her hand, caught fast against her throat. She felt the blood running down her forearm, into the collar of her shirt.

One of Benna’s hands crawled across the floor, reaching out for her. He lifted himself an inch or two, veins bulging from his neck. Ganmark leaned forwards and calmly ran him through the heart from behind. Benna quivered for a moment, then sagged down and was still, pale cheek smeared with red. Dark blood crept out from under him, worked its way along the cracks between the tiles.

“Well.” Ganmark leaned down and wiped his sword on the back of Benna’s shirt. “That’s that.”

Mauthis watched, frowning. Slightly puzzled, slightly irritated, slightly bored. As though examining a set of figures that wouldn’t quite add.

Orso gestured at the body. “Get rid of that, Ario.”

“Me?” The prince’s lip curled.

“Yes, you. And you can help him, Foscar. The two of you must learn what needs to be done to keep our family in power.”

“No!” Foscar stumbled away. “I’ll have no part of this!” He turned and ran from the room, his boots slapping against the marble floor.

“That boy is soft as syrup,” muttered Orso at his back. “Ganmark, help him.”

Monza’s bulging eyes followed them as they dragged Benna’s corpse out through the doors to the terrace, Ganmark grim and careful at the head end, Ario cursing as he daintily took one boot, the other smearing a red trail after them. They heaved Benna up onto the balustrade and rolled him off. Like that he was gone.

“Ah!” squawked Ario, waving one hand. “Damn it! You scratched me!”

Ganmark stared back at him. “I apologise, your Highness. Murder can be a painful business.”

The prince looked around for something to wipe his bloody hands on. He reached for the rich hangings beside the window.

“Not there!” snapped Orso. “That’s Kantic silk, at fifty scales a piece!”

“Where, then?”

“Find something else, or leave them red! Sometimes I wonder if your mother told the truth about your paternity, boy.” Ario wiped his hands sulkily on the front of his shirt while Monza stared, face burning from lack of air. Orso frowned over at her, a blurred black figure through the wet in her eyes, the hair tangled across her face. “Is she still alive? Whatever are you about, Gobba?”

“Fucking wire’s caught on her hand,” hissed the bodyguard.

“Find another way to be done with her, then, lackwit.”

“I’ll do it.” Faithful pulled the dagger from her belt, still pinning her wrist with his other hand. “I really am sorry.”

“Just get to it!” growled Gobba.

The blade went back, steel glinting in a shaft of light. Monza stomped down on Gobba’s foot with all the strength she had left. The bodyguard grunted, grip slipping on the wire, and she dragged it away from her neck, growling, twisting hard as Carpi stabbed at her.